Have we really come to this point? Where we can’t seem to bear the sight of one
another; where we fear each other’s presence, and wonder if the next words
spoken will be out of bitterness and frustration? How is it that we got to this point? When did it all go wrong this year? I came to this school, wanting only the best
for you, and today, I fear that I have let you down in some way, and I’m trying
to figure out how. When I started
failing you.
I knew that we would have our
differences. After all, I am new here,
and our school hasn’t been consistent in holding onto their teachers. If I asked you to trust me, how dare I, for
how do you know I won’t leave at the split of the second? From your perspective, you don’t. I understand why you were hesitant in
welcoming me. You are many; there’s
bound to be personality rifts with some of you.
Nevertheless, it has been seven months, and we have stalled in some sort
of trench warfare in which neither of us no longer want to move. Both sides are just trying to survive until
the end of the school year, because we are tired of the disconnectedness concerning
the hopes and expectations of what academics is supposed to look like.
Seven months have passed and I
wonder if I taught you anything. Do you
remember the impact of two cultures meeting, how different cultures have their
similarities and differences, how international conflicts are more gray than
black-and-white, how it is important to be civilly involved; or do you
remember more the arguments, the constant fights when classmates would talk
back to me or to one another? I realize
that my class is hard, and the expectations are high. However, in saying that, did I encourage you
to go after hard goals and achieve something you never thought possible, or did
it crush your ambition to the point that you believed that there was no way to
excel in my class? I fear the
latter. I fear it so much, because that
was never my intention.
I could teach you all the dates and
events in the historical world, and I would have prepared you for the Jeopardy
show, or the standardized test- whichever you believe to be of more monumental
importance. Great, you would then be a
walking history trivia book. However, I
want more for you. I desired that you
would learn the circular lessons of time, as well find little parables from our
history, in such a way that you could see your community from a different
perspective, and be encouraged to impact it in a positive way. That the things that may have haunted you
socially, academically, economically, would become a distant memory that would
then become a faint story told to your children and grandchildren. History was never about the dead guys, but
the actions that became ripples that became waves in decades and centuries of
time. How we determine to ride the waves
when they come will determine how the water will land upon the shore.
Enough with the analogies. I am your teacher, and in the classroom, I am
at a loss of what I can do. College
never prepared me for the struggles who have, for the past that you have had to
endure. They never specified what would
be the proper and best methods to grade homework. On that note, grades are NEVER to be a
definition of your identity. They are
the measurement I use to see how well you understand the material taught in
class. However, they were never supposed
to be a measurement of your intelligence, your value as a student, or your
value as a human being. I apologize if I
ever communicated that to you. I didn’t
do it intentionally. However, it seems
like there have been many things conversed unintentionally, and all that
remains is bad blood and dirty water. We
both are at a place of odds, and easily and justifiably could point fingers
towards one another. With all honesty, I
have become frustrated with the disrespect that I have been shown in
class. Yet, I know that part of the
reason you speak in such a manner, is because you are frustrated with the
disconnectedness of your education in my classroom.
You are frustrated with the lack of
actual learning that you desire to have.
You are frustrated with teachers only seeing you for the percentage you
have in class, the level of your understanding and imagining that that all you
are is based from purely what is seen in the classroom. I see the frustration in your eyes. It started out as confusion, then
misunderstanding, and finally, you became fed up with everything. Personally, I wonder if it’s because you
believe that you cannot achieve the expectations I have set in class. I know that you desire to learn. Or else, why would you continue to come to
school?
My greatest fear is that I am not
the teacher meant for you. That there is
such a distinction in our identities, in our ways of understanding that we
truly are not compatible in communicating knowledge. I guess it’s time that I admit something to
you. I wanted to be a teacher since I
was a little girl, because I had a teacher stand up for me. Ever since then, I yearned to be like Mrs. Rowe
who saved me from the bullies on the 4th grade playground. I imagined that our classroom would be filled
with great levels of discussions, breaking in the depths of understanding the
world around us, so that we could benefit the things right on our doorsteps. I wanted to be the teacher that would inspire
you to go after all that you could.
Inspire you to take the gifts and talents you have personally been
fashioned, and find some way where you would be able to change the world. I wanted to be the one who would drive away
any darkened doubts that might haunt you around the corner, and encourage you
to challenge your difficulties, and transform them into triumphant victories.
But that hasn’t happened much. At least, for the most part of what I
see. Rather than concocting up ways to
save the world, we struggle to be received in the same room. Both sides wanting to be heard, yet not
giving the chance for the other to really speak. Admittedly, I’m sure I have been guilty as
well of this. I don’t know when it was
communicated, but I know that you have believed that I am only here to teach
you a certain way, to learn certain things, and as the cliché goes, “it’s my
way or the highway.” And what good has
that done for us? Nothing.
We continue to bicker, to fight, and
to strain for the power in the classroom, because we want to be heard. We want to be seen. We want to be known as the people we are
truly meant to be. Not based on a number
in a grade book, or how often we can answer questions in class, or how
eloquently we can write a paper. Sometimes
we teachers forget that the majority of society is not hardwired in such a
fashion where books become best friends.
There are other things that go on in life outside of the world of
school. There is family, sports,
relationships, dreams and aspirations….the list could go on…
I wish I knew you before I became
your teacher. I realize that I still
came as an outsider, but is it too improbable to hope that if I knew you before
you became my student, that I was an actual part of the community before I
taught at the school, then perhaps we would see more than we do now. We would see each other’s humanity, and truly
know one another as the complete, beautiful people we are. The anger we have been presently dealing with
has distorted our sense of understanding one another, as well as personally. We have adopted a form of decay in which we
are forgetting our true selves. Instead
of taking the time to learn from both sides, we stare each other in the eyes as
if we are anticipating the strategies of an enemy.
When did we become enemies? Or think that we should be? Student, child…you are not my enemy. I am not yours. I am your teacher, and I am for you. I know that I am not your favorite. To be completely honest, I’m not trying to be. I want you to learn. My concern is that you haven’t been able to
grasp any of the lessons I have taught these past seven months. I know that I’m not the best teacher. Others certainly have more expertise in the
areas of teaching and classroom management.
I’m sure the moments where you saw me breathe deeply, walk out of the
classroom asking for help from another staff or teacher didn’t boost your
confidence that I have the authority to teach you anything.
Trust
me. It doesn’t boost my confidence. Rather, with all the accumulated stress from
the past months – and let’s be clear.
How we have argued in class is only one component to all of the things
that have weighed on my mind concerning this job. I wonder if I am teaching you content-based,
all the things I need to. I worry that I
am communicating things at your level, and if we start falling behind,
wondering how I can better explain things.
I wonder how I may speak in such a manner that will draw your attention. I worry about OPI, and what would they say if
they saw the limited amount of knowledge I have in running a classroom. Please believe me, child, that some parts of
this job are only learned through practice, and not in a classroom. More could be added to my personal list. This does not make me an incapable teacher
(people don’t tell new mothers that they are unworthy to be a mother just
because they haven’t raised a child before).
Nevertheless,
being this far into the school year, can anything be salvage? Some would say that it’s impossible. Others may say that it’s better to just
leave, or to wade out the storm until next year. But my question is this, if we wait – what then
becomes of these last two months? If we
make no effort – all on the part of the administration, community, staff, students,
and yes, teachers, then I fear that the end of the year will only become worse
than the beginning. That another brick
has been laid in your walls of protection to spite all future educators,
because of what past academics have spoken to and failed to bring you
through. I hope that I wasn’t a teacher
that only allowed your heart to be hardened more so. I know we only have two more months. However, do you believe that there could be a
chance that healing between us may happen, and we can, even in the final
moments of the 2014-2015 school year finally connect?
