“Any ideas for what I should write about this week?”
“I know. How about you write an article that portrays what you’re doing in a positive light that emphasizes that you like what you’re doing and that you want to continue with a job in teaching next year?”
Those sarcastic, sage words of advice from my best friend got me thinking: do all 12 of you who read this article think I hate student teaching, and all I use this article for is to complain?
Well, keep it to yourself and keep reading because I think what I’m about to write might actually be entertaining and enlightening. Maybe.
First of all, I know I complain. The fine folks at The Mirror wouldn’t let me keep writing if I went on about all the sappy stuff. Like how I feel that teaching carries out the Jesuit ideals I’ve learned at Fairfield. Or how I love the look in a kid’s eyes when he finally gets what’s going on.
So I tell stories about how 16-year-olds think it’s funny to draw me a picture of a “monster” that looks suspiciously like a part of the male anatomy.
I could also talk about the great hands-on experience I’ve been getting by working every day as opposed to an internship twice a week. There are glowing comments I could add about how the faculty, staff and students I work with are continually supportive and encouraging. But then again, I did just say “hands-on,” and that’s something a 14-year-old would snicker at. And so should you.
My fellow student teachers have been an amazing support system during the past semester as well. We stay up late together planning lessons, getting coffee and making portfolios of our work.
But instead of writing about how only another student teacher can understand the combined anguish and hope you feel when you have to send a kid to the dean for saying a derogatory phrase or acting out in class, I write about playing pool at Happy Hour and the things we say behind students’ backs.
My roommates and friends have come to understand that I can barely force myself to stay up past midnight anymore, and yes, I have complained about that to a degree. But I also have May 1 to May 22 to not take finals, not study, and sleep in every day of the week (among other things). So you won’t hear a word out of me then.
I should also be looking for a job, but senioritis is so deeply embedded in my bones that I ache at the thought of opening the classifieds. Student teachers will probably agree with me that April is the cruelest month, just as T.S. Eliot said. It seems that not only are we supposed to enjoy the last weeks of our senior year, but we also need to find a job or … what?
Oh, am I complaining again? Here, I was walking into Borders on Friday night and saw one of my students. He shook his head and yelled out “Ms. D! Quit stalking me!” to which his friend replied, “Hey, maybe you should stop stalking her.”
So thanks, best friend. Now you’ve exposed me for the sap I really am. On April 29 (my last day of teaching), I’ll be sure to avoid you at Happy Hour so I can cry into my beer in peace.
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