Disillusionment Phase

They say that the first year of teaching has five stages: anticipation, survival, disillusionment, rejuvenation, and reflection. It's safe to say that I skipped over anticipation. (See entry 1 and entry 2 for my reasons.) I'm still going through the survival stage, but I'm getting much better at grading during classes and planning at school as much as possible. Unfortunately, I am now a textbook example of the disillusionment phase. While I'm not so much questioning why I became a teacher, I am certainly questioning how good of a job I'm doing.

My seniors frustrate me beyond belief. After they finished their first essay, I was going to be nice and buy them treats. That night at Walmart, I chose to buy myself beer instead. After seeing some of these essays, I know that I made the right choice. We spent several weeks working on these essays, during which I read and thoroughly commented on each part (intro., thesis, body paragraphs, conclusion); they were given the opportunity to have two peer reviews; and I held individual conferences with each and every student. There should be no excuse to turn in less than 1 page I had several students think this was acceptable, but their grades reflected otherwise. Let's see how they do on the next essay without any hand-holding.

This was the longest week I have endured in my entire life, I'm pretty sure. On Monday morning, I sent two students to the office. I was going to give a quiz on Monday, but decided to postpone it till Tuesday. Two students (we'll call them Sally* and Laura) decided that that wasn't enough time for them* and decided that they would not be taking the quiz.** On Tuesday, I received a lovely note from Sally that I should teach third grade.

Wednesday was an absolutely perfect school day: lessons went well, I went out for margaritas with my colleagues, and my first-year teacher class was actually tolerable. Yes, things were great. After my night class, I checked my phone and saw that I had received a call from one of my colleagues and friends. She had told me that she would call me for more margaritas after my class, so I was super excited. Unfortunately, that's not why she called. She had called to inform me that a student at the school had committed suicide. Though I didn't have this student, I was supposed to have her next semester. I'm not sure if it was from similar past events or what, but I was/am horribly emotional through the whole ordeal.

I only broke down once (with students) on Thursday. At least I showed them that I was, indeed, human. Later on in the day, one of my advisees stopped in the hallway and asked if I was okay. She said that I didn't seem like my normal, bubbly self and offered a hug. Sometimes I love my kids.

Today went pretty smoothly, considering the circumstances. After school I had a student (we'll call her Cece) stop by to ask for help on an assignment. I'm pretty sure she now hates me because I won't give her an extension. Before you decide that I'm evil, hear me out. I gave the assignment on Wednesday (before the incident), gave them class time to write/ask questions, and gave them time to type on Thursday. Cece didn't ask me for any help or give any signs that she wasn't understanding the assignment until 10 minutes before class time was up on Thursday. I gave her a bit of tough love when I told her (in much nicer terms) that she wasted two class periods and should ask for help earlier on. Almost a week to write a 1-2 page essay (with two class periods to work) isn't too rushed, right?

That's enough ranting/raving for now. Sorry for the negativity - though it may not always seem it, I love my job.

Love always,
E.

* Yes, the same Sally from before
** Didn't I give them an EXTRA day?!
*** I missed the memo that quizzes were optional in high school. Damn.