There are days like today, when I have a large expanse of time (specifically Spring Break!), that I reflect on teaching in a nostalgic, touchy feely, sort of way. This reflection is usually in my Good Teacher Mode: I’m rested, relaxed, and fed so I can truly appreciate teaching in a way I can’t when I’m in the thick of things. Good Teacher appears in the classroom on Monday after a three day weekend, or after a full nine hours of sleep, or after a morning off looking at other schools. Good Teacher kneels down at a child’s eye level and speaks calmly and directly while the child weeps hysterically over a lost toy. Good Teacher isn’t fazed by paste on a chair or a marker without its cap. Good Teacher calmly finds solution to the random bleating of “He CUT me in line!” or “She is NOT invited to my Birthday party anymore!” I find that my Good Teacher mode completely floats through the day, her blood pressure never sky rockets, and her head never aches. “Ah, those little people,” Good Teacher simpers while reading a book out loud, “They have so much empathy…what is empathy, class?”
All of this is in stark contrast to Bad Teacher. This mode usually pops up around Thursday or Friday–sometimes even as early as Tuesday depending on the week. Bad Teacher has been known to snatch scissors out of a child’s hand for fear they’re going to cut their fingers off in addition to the erasers they chopped off several pencils–and is than cut by the very same scissors. Bad Teacher mutters curse words under her breath, shouts children’s names in a stern manner as they careen naughtily off in the other direction while walking in a line, and sighs impatiently while a child innocently demands their shoe be tied for the millionth time. Bad Teacher has frantically snapped her fingers at a child to keep him from running off while walking to the gym to perform a concert for his parents–imagine Bad Teacher’s chagrin as the child calmly reflects, “My Mom snaps at our dog (snaps fingers in imitation), Here Jackson! Here Jackson!” Bad Teacher is painfully aware that her students are going about three times faster than she is able and that their energy is sucking her dry. Bad Teacher feels overwhelmed, panicked, and sad at the end of the day. Bad Teacher almost–almost– yells, “Oh GROW UP!” When a kid discovered underpants in the Lost and Found and made a big deal out of it. Bad Teacher forgets how small these children truly are, and makes quiet assumptions based on a grown up perspective: “Why can’t that kid realize she peed her pants? It’s so obvious…” or “Who CARES if someone cut you in line, we’re all going to the same place…what’s the big deal?” Bad Teacher feels unforgivable, personally offended, and tired–especially when a rumor circulates around the playground that she is “mean.”
With growing experience (realizing I’ve been doing this for eight months straight), I can recognize Bad Teacher Mode popping up. At times like this I realize I need to fall silent and observational. If I don’t pause to reflect, than I feel a drowning sensation coming on. In order to keep Good Teacher mode I’ve resorted to going to bed ridiculously early, eating snacks throughout the day to stave off hunger, and circular breathing. I suppose with time and experience a certain wisdom follows, an ability to float throughout the day without snapping. This is why I am amazed at the long term teachers out there who are full of grace and a certain ease. They’re totally unfazed by vomit, diarrhea, or when a kid starts screaming in the middle of class. I’m sure I have it in me (somewhere), but I also know my personality and I know that it’s hard for certain things to roll right off my back.
This is my last break before the end of the school year…hence, true reflection begins.