As of the last few weeks, something has been heavy on my heart. Not in a "I feel convicted about this and must confess" sort of way. More like "I have hilarious stories from 3 years ago that MUST be made public" sort of way. You see, sweet readers, while I may be in my fourth year of teaching (my goodness, that makes me feel of the elder persuasion), I was once a bumbling mess of a first year teacher. And yes, I mean BUMBLING - like, trip over bookbags (oh wait, that still happens), misspeak while saying "get out your sheets of paper" (gotta keep it G-rated on this here blog), and literally pull on my hair while yelling, "Just PLEASE LISTEN!" (sadly, yes, that happened).
The point is: I got stories. And these stories - they must be told. And while this is titled "part I," if I find that telling these stories actually brings up all sorts of terrible memories, there may not be a part II. However, if, as I suspect, I find that these stories continue to humor men, women, and children of all ages, there will be parts II-XIV. So pull up your bootstraps pal, for this could be a long ride.
I'll begin with my first "in front of the class meltdown." It's a doozy, I tell ya. You should know that this story takes place during my 6th hour. And if you have been a faithful reader for the past 3 years, you know that my 6th hour that first semester was horrid. HORRID. And that's not an exaggeration.
The day of the meltdown I had created a stupid lesson. I had the kids read all sorts of nonsense about F. Scott Fitzgerald and then write a paragraph about his life. Sounds all good and fun, right? Apparently not. My 6th hour moaned and groaned as I gave the assignment, but I thought, "Silly kids. They'll soon find out that this is the bee's knees." Oh friends, I was so wrong (about so many things that first year).
During the independent work time for this particular lesson, I remember zooming from kid to kid attempting to answer questions but failing miserably (you see, I hadn't learned yet that you should really attempt the assignment before asking the kids to do so...rookie mistake). The kiddos were so confused and I clearly didn't have an answer for them. And they kept talking! Can you believe it? Teenagers were talking after I asked them not to!? Oh the humanity!!! So I warned them that they better stop....or else..... I seriously had no plan B. So kept warning them thinking they'll get the hint. Sadly, they didn't.
Finally I said, "If you don't stop talking and do your work, I'm going to take the assignment from you and you're going to have to come in on your own time to finish it!!!" I didn't even think I meant it. But 20 seconds later, I had this strange out-of-body experience and I heard myself say, no, yell, "THAT'S IT! EVERYONE HAND FORWARD YOUR PAPERS. WE'RE MOVING ON!!!!" And internally, I was all, "Heidi (curse word, curse word, curse word), what are you doing!?!? You have nothing to move on to!!! You better think fast, you crazy woman, or this is going to get even more out of hand."
And the best part about the moment? I really thought I was teaching the kids a lesson. You know, you don't do you work, you're going to pay, suckers. You better call home and let mom and pops know you'll be staying after (insert evil laugh). Oh how wrong I was. Their response as they handed forward their papers? Cheers. Laughter. High-fives. I kid you not. Which, of course, only made me angrier.
By this point, I was literally shaking and sweat was pouring out of every pore on my body. But I took a deep breath, said a quick prayer, and did the only thing I could think of: "Kids, get out your books. We're just going to start reading." I honestly don't think I had even previewed the next story (first year, friends, first year). But my toolbox of teaching strategies was already empty, so that's where I went.
I'm sure the bell rang 10 minutes later, and I'm sure I'm the only individual in the class who even remembers that tragic day. Even so, it remains forever burned into my mind - the day I lost my cool and gave the kids exactly what they wanted - an excuse to stop working. Lesson learned: always have a plan B, for you never know when your alter-ego is going to take over the class and demand that we move on. Scary stuff, folks.
And that's just the beginning of tales of my first year. Stay tuned for part II, that is, if you want to read a part II...........
