I've been thinking a lot about failure recently, for pretty obvious reasons. I am bad at teaching (high school students). Whether I am a "failure" is a matter of semantics, but suffice it to say I am not matching my expectations or even approaching a point where I think I'd be ok with them. It's really hard to do this every day, to violently wrench myself from bed and drive to school, to feverishly plan and polish, and then to stand/sit in front of a few dozen students and make all kinds of mistakes. It's hard to work harder than I've ever worked, be more exhausted than I've ever felt, feel like I'm trying harder than I've ever tried, and still end up with me failing.
I have some successes. And I've been encouraged to write them down, to focus on them, to remind myself I'm not a terrible person. That can help. Somewhat. So, yes, today I did make some students laugh. Today, some students did learn some things they may or may not use. Today, at least one student really got into Virginia Woolf and learned something about feminism. Today, I taught my 5B class with no major incidents and, overall, good cooperation from my students (which is a feat).
But today I also told a student to "sit down and shut up" before I threw him out of class for not doing it. Today I argued with a student who wants to be a teacher and he claimed he'd either just start skipping my class or not responding to me when I talked to him. Today 3/4 of my class did not pay attention and/or were off task while we were reading. Today I was irritated and angry and stressed and frustrated and turned into the type of person I never want to be.
Tomorrow's another day, as Scarlett might say. And it really is. Tomorrow I try things differently, I go on and try to win back all of the students I've lost, tomorrow I keep trying to fight and grow and get myself and my students through. I have not given up. I have not stopped trying. But God, teaching and life are not graded on completion, and it's a lesson I'm constantly reminded of.
There will be a time, about 11 weeks from now, when this period of my life is over. I don't know how I'll cope. I'll be relieved, but I worry I'll have lost something essential. Or maybe I'll look at it like I look at today: small goods, small bads, not giving up but not feeling too good about it, either.
It is important to recognize that this too shall pass. The semester will be halfway over a week from tomorrow. I'll be 3/4 done with teaching. This too shall pass, and I will look back on this time with mixed emotions and forgetfulness and confusion and disappointment. Much like a broken relationship, I doubt I'll fully move on from this career-path until I successfully start the next one.
Yes, I've been defeated. But just like with my own past broken relationship, I've learned. I've learned that I can endure a lot: apathy, hate, my own failure, disappointment, the quintessential institution, a 70-80 hour work week. I've learned that I'm not good at leadership, at inspiration, at holding or attracting attention. I've learned that "playing it safe" just means you're setting yourself up for a life of endurance, not a life of enjoyment. I've learned that I can rely on others. And so much more that I'll keep learning over the next three months before the caterpillar phase winds down.
This too shall pass. When it does, I want to remember where I've been. But God, it'll be so much better from the rear-view mirror.
I have some successes. And I've been encouraged to write them down, to focus on them, to remind myself I'm not a terrible person. That can help. Somewhat. So, yes, today I did make some students laugh. Today, some students did learn some things they may or may not use. Today, at least one student really got into Virginia Woolf and learned something about feminism. Today, I taught my 5B class with no major incidents and, overall, good cooperation from my students (which is a feat).
But today I also told a student to "sit down and shut up" before I threw him out of class for not doing it. Today I argued with a student who wants to be a teacher and he claimed he'd either just start skipping my class or not responding to me when I talked to him. Today 3/4 of my class did not pay attention and/or were off task while we were reading. Today I was irritated and angry and stressed and frustrated and turned into the type of person I never want to be.
Tomorrow's another day, as Scarlett might say. And it really is. Tomorrow I try things differently, I go on and try to win back all of the students I've lost, tomorrow I keep trying to fight and grow and get myself and my students through. I have not given up. I have not stopped trying. But God, teaching and life are not graded on completion, and it's a lesson I'm constantly reminded of.
There will be a time, about 11 weeks from now, when this period of my life is over. I don't know how I'll cope. I'll be relieved, but I worry I'll have lost something essential. Or maybe I'll look at it like I look at today: small goods, small bads, not giving up but not feeling too good about it, either.
It is important to recognize that this too shall pass. The semester will be halfway over a week from tomorrow. I'll be 3/4 done with teaching. This too shall pass, and I will look back on this time with mixed emotions and forgetfulness and confusion and disappointment. Much like a broken relationship, I doubt I'll fully move on from this career-path until I successfully start the next one.
Yes, I've been defeated. But just like with my own past broken relationship, I've learned. I've learned that I can endure a lot: apathy, hate, my own failure, disappointment, the quintessential institution, a 70-80 hour work week. I've learned that I'm not good at leadership, at inspiration, at holding or attracting attention. I've learned that "playing it safe" just means you're setting yourself up for a life of endurance, not a life of enjoyment. I've learned that I can rely on others. And so much more that I'll keep learning over the next three months before the caterpillar phase winds down.
This too shall pass. When it does, I want to remember where I've been. But God, it'll be so much better from the rear-view mirror.
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