“The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires.”
“The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires.”
Work for a cause, not for applause. Live life to express, not to impress. Don’t strive to make your presence noticed, just make your absence felt.
Being a teacher is hard work. Student teaching follows an extremely steep learning curve, and it is one that requires me to be completely humble. I enjoy the new routine, waking up early and looking forward to an early bedtime. I love being with my students at school, and I feel comfortable and completely at ease in the school environment. However, it is incredibly trying just to be responsible for many, many things all at once.
I appreciate the great feedback I am getting on my teaching, from all perspectives (my mentor, my own reflections, my student’s reactions, my colleagues’ discussions). It is just scary to be so transparent and have to make myself vulnerable to critique in order to grow the most, best.
While I am working on incorporating “Big Ideas” into my lessons, I must also focus on the big idea for me as a teacher. I want the students to love learning. I want to impart strategies that they can use to work together, as well as independently. I want to make learning meaningful for the students by facilitating discussion and exploration of real life events and objects.
Tomorrow is another day.
The science lesson before spring break, I planted marigolds and nasturtium flowers with my grade 2/3 class. I tended them over spring break and was excited to bring them into the classroom for the students to measure and observe their plant growth. Tonight, the night before practicum begins, I come home to find them all dead. I was away for two days on the sunshine coast and had asked someone to water them. Either there was too much water, or the sunshine was too suffocating for the sprouting plants. I panicked.
I had planned to observe these plants throughout our whole science unit, but it seemed like it was all ruined. I cried in dismay, frustration, fear, anxiety, and insecurity. How can I teach children about plants when I clearly knew nothing about them? How am I going to come up with a lesson to replace it?
Then I realized that this was a lesson in itself. Not just for the kids to learn about the importance of balance in moisture, air, sunlight, and soil composition. It was a lesson for me to learn, right before practicum even starts, that things can and will change in an instant. I need to be adaptable, and think about the learning moments that each mistake or bloop affords.
Deep breaths, here’s to my certification practicum starting in the morning tomorrow.