Tips for New Teachers
While teaching can be an absolutely amazing experience, it can also be completely and utterly crazy. Case in point: my experience teaching at Jose Rios Middle School on the small island of Guahan (Guam). After I graduated I thought about being a teacher, but wasn’t sure if it was right for me. I spoke to my grandparents, who work for the Department of Education on Guam, and their advice was to come to Guam and get emergency certified to teach. I went to visit them and subsequently found myself applying for teaching jobs, getting the emergency certification, and leaping head first into a situation I was far than prepared for. I graduated with a BA in Spanish and Anthropology, and no education courses whatsoever. But Guam needs teachers so badly, especially qualified graduates, that I was picked up immediately.
Everything happened quickly, and before I knew it I was the Language Arts teacher for a pack of one hundred sixth graders aptly named the “Jaguars.” I came into about the worst situation possible for any teacher, let alone an inexperienced one. It was fourth quarter and my kids had a substitute for a month at that point. Their previous teacher retired early, partly because he taught for so long, and mostly because he lost it. He lost control of the kids, and thus their respect. He couldn’t handle it anymore. Thus the kids were left fourth quarter with the substitute.
Then I came tripping along, positive and full of go get ’em energy. The kids were going to love me, I just knew it. And love me they did-most of the time. I was the new, young houli (white) teacher who let the boys come in and break dance at lunch and the kids play on her computer. I was cool and hip and I ruled, as they would say.
The positive energy dimmed during the first week when I realized my schedule. I got up at six, was at school by seven or seven thirty to gather my thoughts and prepare for the day, and began teaching at eight. I taught seven thirty five minute classes, which was frustrating. Government Guam installed a special reading program called Direct Instruction that took up the first two hours of the day, and cut the rest of the day’s classes into thirty five minute blocks. When you allow five minutes give or take for the kids to settle down, five or ten to take care of miscellaneous items like handing back assignments and setting the kids up for projects, you’ve only got about twenty minutes to go through an entire lesson plan or activity, and that’s when everything runs smoothly. School ended at three thirty and it was five o’clock before I went home. When I stayed at school to grade, I didn’t get home until about seven. Then I ate, relaxed for a bit, caught up on more grading, and went to sleep. Half of my weekend was taken up by planning the next week’s lessons, and then I would do it all over again.
Despite the hectic schedule, the first few weeks went well until the my novelty wore off, and this, combined with the end of the year psychosis that takes hold of kids near summertime, caused some problems. The closer summer came, the rowdier the kids got for all of the teachers. I wasn’t the only one who had trouble; others on my team were dealing with the same behavior problems and bad attitudes.
Most of the bad attitude on my end came from a few ringleaders that were the rowdiest of the lot. They had been in trouble numerous times, and had parents that either didn’t care if they got into trouble or turned a blind eye to their little “angel’s” shenanigans. I didn’t hate any of these kids; on the other hand, much of the time we got along great. But some of the time they were simply hard to deal with, and they knew it.
One especially bad incident occurred with my fifth period class right after lunch. They were especially hyperactive, and I pulled the disrespectful ringleader out of class to talk to him. We’ll call him Nick. Normally I left the door unlocked during class, so taking a kid outside for a minute or two while the others were reading or working wasn’t a problem. I talked to Nick for a few minutes, and then turned to open the door. It was locked. I looked at Nick, and his eyes widened and a smile sneaked its way to his lips as he realized what happened. I looked at the door again, kept the panic down, and knocked on the door. No answer. Then I banged louder. There was silence, and then the kids realized I was locked out. They began hooting and hollering and pounding on the desk for about five minutes, when finally the best behaved girl opened the door for me. Boy was I angry. Steam should have been pouring out my ears I was so mad. But instead of doing the expected and yelling at them, I smiled, laughed it off, and got on with the lesson. They were still a little rowdy, but I was able to complete the class.
What you have to understand is that the absence or presence of one or two disruptive kids can make the whole difference in the course of the day. You take out the rowdy kids and have a great day, but as soon as they come back, utter chaos will reign if you allow it. Many times these kids are natural born leaders and the classroom is the only place they have for exercising their talents, much to the dismay of the teacher. The other kids follow their lead, and this makes them key figures in classroom politics.
The only scare I had occurred the last week of school. The sixth graders had what they called their “crews” and many times fights broke out between the groups. Many of the boys were in them, and many weren’t. The boys who were in them weren’t always bad, just raging balls of hormones and testosterone that needed an outlet. I didn’t realize how dangerous that combination could be until I caught two of my boys with knives and a third with a sharp razor. Kids can be very careless, and young boys showing off to their friends can be the worst. This was how I caught my boys. One was showing his knife to a friend outside, and I happened to look over and see it. The second incident occurred at lunch when one boy I was particularly close to told me one of my other boys was carrying a knife. I confronted him and took it away. The boy with the razor passed it to a friend in class and I saw it happen. One boy I talked to said it was protection. From what, I asked. From a boy who had threatened to beat him up.
The experiences above were the only really bad incidents that happened, and overall I gained far more than I lost. I realized that while it was a great experience, I didn’t have the boundless patience that is required of teachers, especially for teaching middle school.
So you want to be a teacher? The best advice I can give is this: go for it. But know what you’re getting into. Realize that there is a huge difference between elementary, middle, and high school. Don’t leap in head first. Observe one class, preferably many. Take your time and research the position you’re entering. Learn about your kids before you enter. Talk to as many people as you can. And most importantly: make sure you are adequately trained, with at least some experience in classroom management. Alternately mind-blowing, insane, gratifying, rewarding, frustrating, and heart-breaking, teaching remains one of the most difficult and rewarding jobs there is.
