I recently retired from teaching high school. Though life is still hectic, I’ve had some moments to reflect. Here are my ramblings from the trenches of when I was teaching. Here are my lessons learned
I teach high school. I am overwhelmed, exhausted, underpaid, and I have frizzy hair. One hundred ninety-three days of the year I get up at 4:34 a.m. I leave my house at 6:15 and do not take a break for lunch. I generally eat dinner between 4:30 and 5:00 p.m. and if I am not asleep by 8:30 p.m., I am truly unhappy. I have one pair of nice slacks and a few nice dresses. I often wear jeans to school, but I formal ‘em up by wearing a blazer or pretty top or sweater and heels—comfortable ones that contribute to my goal of 10,000 steps every day.
I’ve been doing this for thirty years. THIRTY YEARS. Not always the high school gig, but always teaching, from the moment I graduated from college at the age of 22. These are the true stories of the things I’ve learned.
Lesson #1: Time is Powerful
“Miss!”
“Yes, Tamiya?”
“Do we have to. . .” and “I don’t understand . . .” and “What about . . .”
Tamiya would suck the energy from any classroom she went into. Her questions were endless—a steady, unconscious stream, it seemed. Not a stream—a gushing, gnashing beast of a waterfall. It was a crutch that was as annoying for the other students as it was for me. Or maybe not. Having Tamiya in the room got everyone else off the hook for being asked questions.
“Think, Tamiya,” I said.
“See if you can figure it out yourself,” I cajoled.
“Try it yourself,” I admonished.
“But, do we have to write the date on top?” she asked. “Double-space?”
Who cares? I didn’t say it out loud. “No, Tamiya.”
“Miss! Is this right?”
I gritted my teeth and ignored her, concentrated on the student I was trying to help. Tamiya called again.
“What’s the word for—?” she shouted across the room.
I pointed to the clock and on the spot, made up a new rule that was a Godsend. Tamiya was instructed to look at the clock every time she wanted to ask a question. She was to wait for 10 seconds before asking ANY question. It gave me, the rest of the students, maybe even her, some breathing room. Little by little, it worked. Tamiya asked less questions about the things she could—and should—have figured out herself. She took up less attention. She did okay.
Time is powerful.
