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Stephanie S.

~ How the Teaching Profession Chose Me

Up until around sixth grade everything was great as far as school life was concerned. Fate would have it that my elementary school was a warm, secure, forward-thinking environment where the entire student body was a part of the “learning process”. We were allowed to work at our own pace and progress through the development of Language, Science, Math, History & Culture, Music and Physical Education. I could probably name something really interesting or cool about most of the faculty at that school.

Mrs. R took the Chorus to perform in Chicago, my sister went. Mr. B, the principal knew everyone my name; Mrs. P was just plain nice. It was a really great school. Regardless of students’ age, he or she was allowed to move forward or go back and remediate, as the individual student required.

In Kindergarten I began playing violin and by third grade was playing with the sixth grade honor orchestra.
If you could do the job, it was yours. If you couldn’t, they supported and encouraged you and helped you succeed in something.

We were given a new appreciation for literature as our teachers brought the words to life by actually having writers show us how it was done. Shel Silverstein visited our school. Watching him, hearing him in person, “I am being swallowed by a Boa constrictor…” Priceless memories, moments that shaped the teacher I am today.

This was just a plain old Public School. Any school could have opened up the world to its’ students the way that ours did.

Unfortunately, reality crashed in as the family left the city and landed in Podunk, America, population around 7,000 at the time. Bum-phukked-Egypt. This is where I learned about genuine racism and really mean people. Small town America has its merits, I’m sure. It just doesn’t do it for me.

Fast Forward, 7th Grade. 1st Hour – Mr. R – Wood Shop Class –
29 “licks” over the course of 16 weeks with his wooden paddle.
In the hall, just outside the classroom door,
“Bend Over. Hands on your knees. Anything in your pockets?” Me, “No.”
THWACK *THWACK* THWACK.
The sound echoed through the halls like the shot from a C02 BB Gun.
The room is silent as we re-enter.
Ah, what a great way to begin a new day of learning at your local small-town Jr. High.

3rd Hour – Mrs. B – Science – One-Time GOLF Coach.
Damn she had a swing that could light your ass on Fire.
“What? You didn’t write 100 sentences about the horrors of chewing gum in class?”
Me, “Sorry, I have high intake needs.”
“Now it is 200 sentences, or you can take 3 swats.”
Oh gee, I get a choice!?!

Were there any bright spots in those horrid days?
Here and there.
Bong loads and Pink Floyd were a nice way to unwind from that gawd-awful “school”.

Of course I was no Model Student.
To my detriment the system wasn’t really designed to support a kid like me.

Hm. A kid like me.
My family gave new meaning to the term dysfunctional family. One teacher who gave even half a damn could have made a world of difference. In hindsight I see that many of those Elementary teachers I knew early on did indeed make a difference.

I knew that there was much better in life than what this crappy school was offering.
It frustrated the hell out of me as a teenager having basically no control over any of it.

During a 10th Grade visit to the Principals office I recall telling Mr. B that he was only there for the $60,000 a year and summers off..Don’t tell me you care when you don’t even know my name.

That’s about the 2nd time I was shipped off to L.A….Dad.
Uh huh, now a school of 1400 in the San Fernando Valley. 11th Grade in this giant pond takes me to Alternative School -Yes! Magnet School in the Valley. Take the Test, “graduate early” and take on the world at 16.

Heavens to Mergatroid!

Where does one go from there?
Up one road and down another.
Trying some of this, doing some of that. Not really knowing which way is up can lead one down some dark paths and bright roads. All the while feeling this incredible need to Do Something.
Make a Difference. Break the cycle of insanity that was my life.
Peace, order, clarity..And Baby made 3.
When my son was born it all became so clear, so obvious. Make a plan, set a goal, never look back unless it’s to better my or anothers understanding.

Enroll in college, just the basics. 1st Semester I began part-time assistant teaching at a private school.
I just saw the ad and applied.

(Could a former juvenile delinquent, ex-stripper, one-time Sunset Strip Heavy Metal Bar Groupie, pot-smoking person like me actually work in a school?)

I’d worked a lot of different jobs from splitting logs to working at AM/PM…but Teach?

The very first day I knew. I felt without a doubt that I am supposed to do this. So I did and now I am, a teacher.

The best term for what I do as a certified educator is really Guide or Facilitator. I create/provide the most optimum learning environment that I possible can.
“The Teacher Sets The Tone of the Classroom.”

So, first comes the setting. Ambiance! Music, Marvin Gaye…Mozart. Candles. Tons of books.

Over $3,000 of my own money later and uncounted hours on weekends and after school, it is a kick-ass space for learning.
A place where anyone, any age, could come in and find something inviting or interesting. At any given time, 22 kids are actively involved in their OWN active investigation and exploration of as much of the world that I can cram (neatly!) into that room.

Autonomy is encouraged and I do not punish, period.
Every child can learn. Nobody is smarter than anybody. Everyone is smart in one way or another. (Multiple Intelligences)
Everyone learns in their own way and when teachers give kids the chance to find it, the kids learn.

Parents have cursed me, principals pissed at me, Emotionally Disturbed kids have spit, bitten and kicked me. I just try harder with the ED kid and forget the cursing parents and angry bosses.

With parents I listen, I try and be empathetic and/or sympathetic. Sad how many parents just don’t give a rat’s ass. Wonderful when the ones who do care show it. It shows on their children.
To those who curse me, I ask G-d to grant Me Serenity…

Overall, I love my job. I love learning and I love it when I see kids loving it too. I have the opportunity to make a difference and give kids the freedom to think.

I’m a part of the Machine known in most places as Public Schools. I’m infiltrating the other side under the guise of an elementary school teacher.

It trips me out on a regular basis that I am doing this job, that I am a teacher.

Interestingly enough, I never hated (wasted energy) those teachers who bullied others and me. I always felt sorry for them and still imagine that they don’t have nearly enough good sex.

peace

__________________
"See, in my line of work you got to keep repeating things over and over and over again for the truth to sink in, to kind of catapult the propaganda." —George W. Bush, Greece, N.Y., May 24, 2005 (Listen to audio)

 

crayon

That brings back some memories of school for me, mostly bad. I was a straight A student most of the time until I hit junior high school and realized most teachers really don't give a damn about you, especially if you are male (I'm female). If you ever get labled as a trouble-maker it's over and you might as well quit at 16, if they don't find a way to incarcerate you in a kiddy jail first. I have often wondered if there was a secret agenda to make a certain number of kids quit so as to staff the restaurants, motels, and factories. Or is it that the people in charge of educating our children don't really care?
I watched over the years as my younger brother and sister, cousins, and finally my oldest son were systematically forced to quit school. They have been threatened to attend until 16, because as they were bluntly told, we lose money for every student who doesn't show up each day. They have been forced to languish in in-school suspension for weeks with teachers refusing to let them have their work, either then or later, then gleefully flunked them and said it was their fault. There are resource officers (cops) in the schools who routinely arrest, harrass and intimidate the students. Mostly over minor dress code infractions and daring to speak out about their rights. The students in these schools are mostly hispanic and they constantly have to apologize for it. Anything written in spanish, old english letters or similar, or artwork depicting mexican people is considered gang related. Spider webs, clowns, cars, and anything that feels threatening to the mostly white staff is gang related if drawn or worn by a hispanic student. I have gone to the schools on behalf of my teenaged kids only to be told to shut up and comply or face consequences. What is a concerned parent to do? We can't afford to move out of this school district. I can only say thank God for people who care as you do. Be there for these kids and they will never forget you or the fact that you gave them a chance.

MrIMStoned

Cudos to you.

__________________
"In the end the Party would announce that two and two made five, and you would have to believe it. It was inevitable that they should make that claim sooner or later: the logic of their position demanded it. Not merely the validity of experience, but the very existence of external reality, was tacitly denied by their philosophy. The heresy of heresies was common sense. And what was terrifying was not that they would kill you for thinking otherwise, but that they might be right. For, after all, how do we know that two and two make four? Or that the force of gravity works? Or that the past is unchangeable? If both the past and the external world exist only in the mind, and if the mind itself is controllable what then?"

jebus

Man there should be more teachers like you, my science teacher was the type that didnt give a **** if you came, waht he said was "whether u come or not i still get payed but its up to you if you want to fail or pass" im not sayin hes a bad teacher though hes one of the best teachers ive ever had he helps you when you need it hes open to talk about anythign science realted and hes not a pot nazi.

My math teacher is sorta like u too hes their every morning liek half an hour before the bell and at lunch and after school for anyone who needs extra help and he actually helps you not just writes **** ont he board and makes u figure it out.

My grade 9 english teacher was a jackass i hated him sooooo much he would take the side of all the jocks because he used to be a hockey player too and he would only pay attention to them it pissed me off so much and he was a cocky bastard!!!!!!! alkbha;lkhba im glad i only have 2 years left lukly next year im gettin that same science teacher though so thats alright.

__________________
Mutilated lips give a kiss on the wrist Of the worm like tips of tentacles expanding In my mind, I'm fine, accepting only fresh brine. You can get another drop of this, yeah you wish...Laughing lady living lover. Ooo you sassy frassy lassie Find me the skull of Haile Sellase, I...Give me shoes so I can tapsy Tap all over this big worldTake my hand you ugly girl