Category Archives: personal

The Best Part of Me…

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When I was younger, something I lacked was a shoulder I could trust to lean on. I carried the burden of my vulnerabilities like Atlas’ condemnation – of hurt, of trust issues, of self-hatred, of imposed solitude that tried to break me down and very nearly succeeded. But from this strain came a strength that I wish to give to my community. I will teach endurance. I will impart a sense of never giving up, holding on to hope and fighting for what my students believe in. My classroom will be a place of freedom and individuality – a place for them to learn who they are in that moment and be able to show the world, while knowing that they have the strength to withstand opposition.

My shoulders can carry the weight of my own world while softening to carry the burden of others. My students will learn compassion. While they will have strong beliefs that, at times, may conflict with the thoughts of others, I will teach them to sympathize with their peers and help when they can. In my classroom and beyond, they will know that they are to stand up for one another, for themselves, and to offer a shoulder to those in need. They will learn to feel what that person is feeling, hold it, accept it, and take some kind of action. Compassion has been proven to decrease bias toward others, decrease migraines and emotional tension, and increase grey matter in the brain. To be compassionate is to be mindful.

My shoulders can soften for the pain for others while reflecting the emotions in my community. How a student stands or sits will allow me to recognize when they are not okay. Hunched shoulders, constant shrugs and low set posture can point to insecurities and vulnerabilities. I will strive to keep them all standing tall by demonstrating how I stand tall. My students will learn empathy. They will learn to be critical thinkers, take the chance to look at situations from all angles to help choose the right path. Empathy will help me make connections with my student’s parents. To see where they are coming from when we speak about their child’s progress, to understand that there are limitations, to offer support where it is possible, to give suggestions when the struggle is present in the conversation.

My shoulders can reflect emotions while shifting and supporting to fit all needs. I will be flexible. The shoulder is a complex combination of bones and joints where many muscles act to provide the widest range of motion of any part of the body. A classroom is a complex combination of personalities, cultures, past experiences – and like my shoulders, I will need a full range of motion to work with the students of my future. A key piece to teaching, as far as I have learned, is flexibility.

My shoulders are my endurance. My shoulders are my compassion. My shoulders are my empathy. My shoulders are my flexibility. My shoulders are the best part of me.

The only time goodbye is painful is when you know you’ll never say hello again

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As I wove through the mountains on the Sea to Sky highway, singing along to the Wicked soundtrack with AC on high to cool us in the growing heat on route to Williams Lake, I was struck with the overwhelming realization – I have no school tomorrow. I will not see my Grade 7s off to high school. I will not get to listen to them talk about their summer plans, their fall plans, their anxieties and excitements about the coming changes. I will not be imparting wisdom into their spongey brains, or listen to their quiet victories as they finally understand the math I’ve been teaching them. I will not get to tell them, for the hundredth time, to stop underestimating their intelligence and perseverance, that they “got this” and can complete the assignment to the best of their abilities if they would just take it one step at a time. I will not greet them in the morning, sign their planners in the afternoon and mark their assignments all night. For a majority of them, I will most likely never see them again.

And this is only the first time this is going to happen to me.

It took a few days to let the end of practicum sink in. I didn’t think it would be such a mental transition. I thought that I would take all my stuff home, set my daybook on the dining room table with all the other junk I accumulated over the past 10 weeks, and feel the sadness that was sure to come as it does with any form of goodbye. And while I cried, especially reading over the heartfelt messages some of the students left me, it still didn’t feel real. But now, as I sit hours away from the school, I know there is no going back. At least not to the class that I’m now used to. Does it feel this way every time?

We are encouraged to cultivate relationships with our students to better the learning environment – “[t]eachers who experience close relationships with students reported that their students were less likely to avoid school, appeared more self-directed, more cooperative and more engaged in learning” (Rimm-Kaufman & Sandilos, 2016). I believe this is true, whole heartedly. While the rambunctiousness will still be there (no amount of connection with the teacher will ever abolish the natural behaviours of most children), they tend to be calmer when there is a sense of camaraderie in the class. Even if one of the comrades is the teacher. And yet, in cultivating these relationships, there is a level of attachment that is created between the teacher and the students.

One study, that I have not been able to track down, describes an account of a teacher whose class becomes such a tight knit community that they would defend each other, including the teacher, to anyone who seemed to be talking down about the class or didn’t fit in just yet. As oddly wonderful as it can seem (except for the part where the new kids were often shunned unless they fit in seamlessly), the end of the year had to have been somewhat traumatic for the students. It’s true that they would likely be carrying on into the next grade level with at least some of their classmates, but it would not be the same – it would not be that exact classroom, with that exact mix of kids and that exact teacher leading the charge. And the teacher would have a whole new group to get to know and create the community with. It had to have been difficult for all of them involved. Yet, the teacher plans to do this to some degree every year. How do you do this over and over again and not get worn down by how emotionally taxing it is?

Granted, this was my first class and we went on quite a journey together – we learned from each other, and they will always hold a special place in my heart. And I’m sure in the days to come, I’ll be busy enough to stop wondering what their doing in class, if soandso is struggling with their math and completing their work, or that one kid is still taking the longest route around the class to socialize with all their friends before getting a drink of water (the answer will always be yes to the latter. It’s just who they are.). Right now, though, as I wait to embark on the next chapter of this crazy year long journey, I worry that they’ll forget me when I know I’ll never forget them.

Bibliography

Rimm-Kaufman, S., and Sandilos, L. (2016) Improving Students’ Relationships with Teachers to Provide Essential Supports for Learning. Retrieved from: http://www.apa.org/education/k12/relationships.aspx

No matter the advancements in the world, humans will always have their nature.

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This was a bit of a tough weekend. I had a lot of time to self-reflect on my experience in my own elementary life and how what happened then can affect me now.

Like most people, I had a rough time in elementary school. In most of my education career, actually. I was one of the kids that got picked on by a lot of my peers, didn’t feel very supported by the admin or staff, and felt helpless a lot of the time because I didn’t really feel like I had someone I could turn to. This experience, at least in part, helped me decide to become a teacher. I thought that when I was a teacher, I would have all the answers. I’d be that advocate for the underdogs, that encouraging adult that really got to those students who needed to hear “it gets better. Trust me. I have been there”.

And then I realized that there is only so much a teacher can do. And even if you’re doing everything you can, the student isn’t always going to see how much you actually care that they make it through this. No matter what side of the conflict that they are on.

That was a bit of a shock for me. It made me reflect back on my time as the student in Grade 7, when I thought I was alone in the world with no one but my mother in my corner, and what good could she do for me at work when all the hardship happened in school? Did I have a teacher on my side, rooting for me to get through this? Was I blind and deaf to the encouragements, the little gestures of a smile or the softly spoken “how’re you doing”?

I can’t honestly give an answer to that. I only remember sitting in the principal’s office with my mother, the girl who was bullying me and her mother, being told that I was a liar, that I was making it all up and that “my daughter would never do such a thing.” I didn’t have proof. Her words didn’t bruise me. There was no digital footprint to recall as evidence in the infractions. But now there is.

Now, what you put on the internet is, more or less, there forever. Whether your intentions are innocent or not, the interpretation is up to the receiver. This also means that there is no getting way from it. At least when I was in Grade 7, I could go home and the taunting and name calling would only be in the memories that replayed in my head. Social media, texting and private messaging took the solace of home away. While there are some students who are not as submerged into the technological world, a majority have a cellphone in their pocket despite the no cellphone rule. It’s too easy to reach someone now. And it’s too easy to spread information and let it grow into something larger than yourself and that one person that you sent it to. You see, they sent that something to a couple friends, and those friends sent it to a couple of their friends who then sent it to a couple of their friends and so on. Suddenly, everyone knows your business and it’s not just the two in the original conflict. It’s you, the other person and their group of friends who are all armed to the teeth with incriminating information. I’ll state it again, whether your intentions are innocent or not, the interpretation is up to the receiver.

So what do you do as the teacher? You’re not on Facebook or Snapchat with your students. You don’t get the live feed and can’t squash this situation before it blows up. Unfortunately, it seems that the adults only get involved after everything has come to a boiling point. And that’s not what we want. We want to stop these things before they start. But we can’t. Not unless they come and talk to us and allow us to try and fix it before it gets too bad.

My reflections this weekend, all internal and deeply emotional, made me realize that a lot of your heart goes into being an educator. Like, most of it. You want what is best for your students, and when they are not getting that, you can feel like you failed them. I do everything I can, everything that is in my power, to help. But it’s up to them to ask for that help before I can give it.