10 step walk backward + identity crisis

Today was the first day of school in Minnesota, Chicago, and in DC and I’ve been waxing nostalgic all day long. I sort of feel like I’m having an identity crisis – when people used to ask me what I “did,” I had the easy, satisfying answer of history teacher and that gave people all sorts of assumptions about me that I liked and felt comfortable with. Now no one asks what I do, because they assume I stay home with my baby. Which I do, so it’s cool. This is another post for another time.

It is very easy to glamorize the past, but I am going to take a 10 step trip down memory lane, alternating between not-so glamorous and glamorous (who am I kidding? There is zero glamour in teaching).

Memory #1: (Chicago) The best lecture I ever gave was on the Spanish Armada, detailing the events leading up to it and its effect on modern Europe. I have a serious historical crush on Queen Elizabeth I and I almost had the kids believing that I was Elizabeth giving that rad inspiring speech to her soldiers. Not only were the kids taking notes furiously, they also applauded for me when I was finished. Clapped! They clapped for my Spanish Armada lecture.

Memory #2: (DC) I had freshmen first period – 7:15 am, when no learning should be taking place anyway. Getting these folks to smile, let alone vocalize anything, was pulling teeth. To teach the Chinese Dynasties, we sing them to the tune of Frere Jacques. Usually classes roll their eyes at me, their silly teacher, but sing anyway and like it. This class refused, REFUSED to sing. I sang that dang song, virtually alone, every day in class for two weeks.

Memory #3: (DC) I love teaching imperialism in Africa – lots to talk about. I spent hours and hours making up a simulation to simulate the Berlin Conference of 1885, when the European countries split up Africa. While it was going on, a kid came up to me and said, “This is definitely the coolest thing I’ve ever done in school.” I almost hugged him. But that would be inappropriate.

Memory #4: (Chicago) I am talking to a kid about why he has a D in my class and I really don’t like to be interrupted. I hear a kid say “Uh, Ms. Gardner.” I ignore. “Ms. Gardner!” (Louder) I ignore. Several kids join in, “Ms. Gardner!” I finally look up from my serious conversation to find that one of my students has ralphed all over my floor. This happened once every year in Chicago. I hate throw up.

Memory #5: (DC) During my unit on genocides, I made my sophomores keep a discrimination journal in which they had to write discrimination they either witnessed or experienced. Their journals were an incredible look into the real life culture of a high school and the subsequent discussions we had in class were some of the most meaningful conversations in my life.

Memory #6: (Chicago) A kid had a C in my class and his parents wanted to talk to me. I consulted my gradebook and found that the kid hadn’t done well on his assignments and he also hadn’t turned one in. Because I neglected to inform the kid’s father that he had a missing assignment, the father yelled – and I mean raised his voice – at me about how he couldn’t understand my irresponsibility. That was the last conference I ever had alone with parents. Always have back up.

Memory #7: (Chicago) After reading “Taming of the Shrew,” the culminating project was for them to choose a scene and modernize it to a different time period. My favorite was the disco one – these sweet 13 year olds even looked up 70s phrases! I laughed and laughed and laughed.

Memory #8: (DC) With very little warning, two students stood up and screamed at each other for 4 straight minutes in the middle of class. Ahhhhh! I just didn’t know what to do.

Memory #9: (DC) The last day of school of my last year in DC was my birthday. Some of my students brought me cupcakes and presents (including broccoli, my favorite vegetable) and we hooked up someone’s iPod to a speaker and had a dance party. (FYI: last day of school = go get your report card and run around the school like bandits. At least they were safe and sound and partying in my room.)

Memory #10: (both) Some of the hardest parts about teaching is staying up all hours of the night grading the same assignment over and over, realizing the kids are making the same mistakes over and over, and knowing that if you’re going to be a good teacher, you need to go back and re-teach. Argh.

Bonus: (I didn’t want to end on a bad one!) One particular day I didn’t feel like starting class immediately so I sat on my desk and we all started chatting and telling each other about our worst injuries. Hilarious -- and an awesome way to use five minutes. I think the thing I miss the very most is just talking to kids. They are funny, funny.

There it is! If you read this, I am super impressed. I think Tate could sense his mom was at a loss with what to do with herself all day, having gone from 60 to 0, adjusting to a new place, and reeeeeally wanting to teach some modern European history. So, the little dude showed me a new trick by crawling with his belly off the floor! He’s a very smart baby to know how to life his mom’s spirits.

PS. I made this for our front door with all of my new-found time. I totally copied it, but I kind of like it!