What I Unlearned from My First Semester as a Teacher
When reflecting on what I have learned this first semester as a teacher, my first instinct is that I have learned nothing. If anything, I have "unlearned" quite a few things. I have unlearned the impulse to control every situation. I have unlearned the idea that what I am meant to do will come easy and natural to me. Sometimes unlearning is more important than learning.
Unlearning the impulse to control situations is a difficult one for me. Over the course of my life, the people who are closest to me have repeatedly pointed out that I have the annoying tendency to be a "one-upper." If someone is talking about a fun trip they had taken, I usually bring up my exciting and exotic three-month stint in Europe. If someone has a difficult time, I have it worse. If someone has an opinion, mine is better. With seventh graders, however, this attitude does not fly. They simply do not have the cultural literacy to understand that my European excursion trumps their trip to TSU's Homecoming. Nor do they understand that teaching hormonal students is much more trying than John liking the same girl as Leon when John and Leon have been best friends for the last ten years. Much less do seventh graders possess the reasoning ability to see every single time when I am right and they are wrong. Now, I bite my tongue. I listen to what the students have to say, what they feel, and what they think. Unlearning to express my dominance over every situation is quite a difficult thing, especially when you are the most interesting, most tried, and most intelligent person in the world like I am. It is hard; it is worth it.
Unlearning the idea that what I am meant to do will come naturally to me has been a struggle. Somewhere, back in the recesses of my childhood memory, there lurks a memory that explains why I feel like I should not have to work very hard to be successful. I have no idea what it is, but it is there. In life, there are those people who seem to be awesome at whatever they do; they never have to work hard to make millions of dollars or to woo women or to be the best at whatever they do; that is not me. But I am so close to being that person I can taste it. I am good at almost everything I try, but I am not quite awesome. I was good enough at school to make it by with "A"s in my classes, but they were always on the lower end of the spectrum, never the top. In college, I had to have a 3.6 to keep my scholarship; I did not work very hard and I graduated with a 3.64. I always seem to be good enough, but never great. So because of this, this nagging idea keeps haunting me: when I find what I am meant to do, it will come easy to me and I will be the best at it, and if it does not come easy, then I am out. I quit. Going into the classroom, I thought teaching would be a breeze. I relate well to people, and I know my content; I will naturally be a good teacher. Then my fourth period class entered the room. Quickly, they triggered that part of my brain that told me, "I am not meant to do this. It is too difficult, too unnatural." It is not supposed to be easy, though. It is not supposed to be natural. So, I am in there. I give it what I can. And then I go home, and I live the other parts of my life, and I am okay that I am not a good teacher. At least, not yet.
Unlearning is just as important as learning. Sometimes our natural tendencies are our worst enemies. Although I am still unlearning the impulse to be in control of every situation and the idea that good things should come easy to me, I am unlearning them.
Unlearning the impulse to control situations is a difficult one for me. Over the course of my life, the people who are closest to me have repeatedly pointed out that I have the annoying tendency to be a "one-upper." If someone is talking about a fun trip they had taken, I usually bring up my exciting and exotic three-month stint in Europe. If someone has a difficult time, I have it worse. If someone has an opinion, mine is better. With seventh graders, however, this attitude does not fly. They simply do not have the cultural literacy to understand that my European excursion trumps their trip to TSU's Homecoming. Nor do they understand that teaching hormonal students is much more trying than John liking the same girl as Leon when John and Leon have been best friends for the last ten years. Much less do seventh graders possess the reasoning ability to see every single time when I am right and they are wrong. Now, I bite my tongue. I listen to what the students have to say, what they feel, and what they think. Unlearning to express my dominance over every situation is quite a difficult thing, especially when you are the most interesting, most tried, and most intelligent person in the world like I am. It is hard; it is worth it.
Unlearning the idea that what I am meant to do will come naturally to me has been a struggle. Somewhere, back in the recesses of my childhood memory, there lurks a memory that explains why I feel like I should not have to work very hard to be successful. I have no idea what it is, but it is there. In life, there are those people who seem to be awesome at whatever they do; they never have to work hard to make millions of dollars or to woo women or to be the best at whatever they do; that is not me. But I am so close to being that person I can taste it. I am good at almost everything I try, but I am not quite awesome. I was good enough at school to make it by with "A"s in my classes, but they were always on the lower end of the spectrum, never the top. In college, I had to have a 3.6 to keep my scholarship; I did not work very hard and I graduated with a 3.64. I always seem to be good enough, but never great. So because of this, this nagging idea keeps haunting me: when I find what I am meant to do, it will come easy to me and I will be the best at it, and if it does not come easy, then I am out. I quit. Going into the classroom, I thought teaching would be a breeze. I relate well to people, and I know my content; I will naturally be a good teacher. Then my fourth period class entered the room. Quickly, they triggered that part of my brain that told me, "I am not meant to do this. It is too difficult, too unnatural." It is not supposed to be easy, though. It is not supposed to be natural. So, I am in there. I give it what I can. And then I go home, and I live the other parts of my life, and I am okay that I am not a good teacher. At least, not yet.
Unlearning is just as important as learning. Sometimes our natural tendencies are our worst enemies. Although I am still unlearning the impulse to be in control of every situation and the idea that good things should come easy to me, I am unlearning them.
Labels: Educational Musings
1 Comments:
You're so creative and honest with this. I really like it, sweetheart. :)
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