The bad day: a reflection

For those who are not educationally inclined this may be an extremely boring post but feel free to torture yourselves. The plan- to explore my broken ego, fond out what went wrong and develop the ideal solution.

Since the first week in January I have basked in the renewed sense of direction and purpose I was feeling. Again, I was excited about the prospect of becoming a teacher. The students still seemed to think that I was cool and the positive vibes were everywhere.
Until…
Away for 7 teaching days.
I returned to the classrooms on Monday last and appeared to be at the top of my game (so to speak). I felt confident that the lessons I prepared to teach my grade sevens about Ancient Egypt was virtually perfect. I always anticipate the need to modify and adapt what I prepare for each class but I was certain that I was ready to go.

Wednesday: quiet, studious beings-the envy of the South pod. I was calm, serene, and very proud of how the lesson progressed.

Thursday: eager to participate, following along, starting to get excited about Friday’s mummified ‘Cornish game hen’ activity. Again, I was feeling very good about the way the students were responding and learning.

Friday: all hell breaks loose. Let’s be clear, Friday was my 3rd official day of teaching a 50% course load which = about 3 lessons.

First period: I arrive out of breath to the grade 8 classroom; the sponsor teacher is no-where to be found. I grab the nearest teacher to watch over my class as I “NO RUNNING IN THE HALLS” make a beeline for the mailboxes in order to retrieve the morning’s attendance sheet. Back to class, some wondering murmurs regarding the missing homeroom teacher. But, we are okay, Miss Wilson to the rescue. One more day to work on our novel studies- should require about 45 minutes….

Second period: French- yeah right. Still no sponsor teacher or substitute, ‘how long can I drag this out’ I wonder. Students begin to get restless, they are finished their novel studies, 12 of them need to use the bathroom, 4 more need their books out of their lockers, felt, duct-tape, steak tar-tar, you name it and they had to go get it. I stretch ‘Your sociograms, finish your sociograms” ‘Our what!!!’….’I’m finished my sociogram, my group sucks, this is stupid, where is Mrs. P, what do you mean you don’t know what to do with them?!’ the red stain of shame begins creeping into my cheeks.

Recess: the door closes and I lock it behind me, Mrs. B notices the anguish on my face and quickly swoops in with encouragement, smiles, and the kind of smart ass comments that only another student teacher could come up with. Hug, big breaths…

Third period: still no sponsor teacher but this time it is okay, I had prepared for this class in advance. Into a horseshoe, some notes on the bored (Freudian slip?!), some fairly smooth discussion, ‘back to your seats and write something interesting for my weekend reading’. Some minor groaning and confusion, ‘The substitute arrives- amazingly enough the room become quiet, pens can be heard dancing across loose-leaf…’

Forth period: she’s holding it together fairly well…until- the volume rises, bodies start moving so fast that I barely notice when they take off jogging down the hall ‘our teacher is lame and can’t control us and we love it!!!!yay!! Miss Wilson- yeah she sux, look at us go!!!!!!!!!!!’ Before I know it the second substitute shows up, all raring to go, but wait- he knows even less that the two other teachers do regarding the schedule and tasks for the day. On the upside, thanks to his arrival I now have time to bounce into the room directly across the hall and begin setting up for the mummy activity that I have been so stoked about.

2wenty minutes and counting 3 seconds at a time…

Fifth period:
How it should have happened…
-7 workstations made up of two desks placed together. On top of each station would be a black plastic bag covered with sheets of paper.
-materials on each desk= 1 pen capable of writing on plastic, one large zip-lock bag, I Cornish game hen in it’s plastic wrapper, one box of salt, and 4 pairs of plastic gloves.
-students would begin class by being seated AWAY from the workstations.

1. review the steps listed in our Egypt Unit books
2. groups of no more than four select a work station
3. each group member puts on a pair of plastic gloves
4. groups decide on the name of their mummy and write this name along the white strip on the zip-lock bag, pen is now put away.
5. with the help of 1 or more adult assistants, cut the tope of the hen wrapper so that the hen may be removed
6. one person from each group makes their way to the sink at the back of the room to wash the hen, they will then dry the hen with a piece of pre-cut paper towel that will get tossed immediately into the garbage can.
7. the hen will be returned to the table and placed into the plastic bag
8. each group will then measure (oh let’s say 2 cups of) salt and sprinkle it over then hen in the bag
9. seal the bag and place it on the top of the activity cart, which has been conveniently placed near the centre of the room.
10. the plastic bag covering the workstations should be folded up so that all of the soiled towels and garbage is inside and then throw it in the garbage.
11. remove gloves and put them in the garbage.
12. talk about the next steps: checking our mummies, adding salt to our mummies, what we thought about the activity so far etc…

How it did happen…
-seven workstations made up of four desks with all of the same materials as listed above EXCEPT no pen for recording the mummies name, and (this is a huge one) the plastic bag only covered half of the workstation AND it was not covered with paper towel for absorbing chicken juice.
-students began the activity by being very hyper (one would assume they were like 12 years old or something!)

1. I forgot to tell them to write the name of their mummy on the zip-lock: mistake being that when I reminded them to do it at the end, everything was contaminated in raw poultry sauce, including the pens that they used because they were too impatient for me to get to them to write it myself.
2. Second error: I was the only one with a knife to open the hens, that dragged it out
Oh did I mention I also didn’t go over each step-slowly and carefully before I had them open their hens? Oh, yeah big oops there. Anyway…
3. no paper on the table to absorb the juice that was in the wrapping, oh and no specific instructions about what to do with the wrap so it ended up on the clean uncovered areas of the workstation- yeah contamination begins
4. My voice is getting louder and louder, the speaker system I use is not working.
5. oh crap, hens in the bag, I didn’t just say “shake n’ bake” did I?????
…head would be buried in hands except for the chicken juice covering them
6. now, the salt, cover them with salt, not too much, not too little, nothing specific just don’t do it
7. seal the zip-lock bag
8. name of your mummy
9. wash your hands: yes that’s right all 26 of you at the same time~ but quietly okay.
Sometime prior to this I ran to my T.A. “I’m losing it (not my mind but complete control of the class and the pre-teens filling it”. My rescuer, she sets off in search of my sponsor.
10. We need to sanitize everything, the kids, the tables, the pens, everything
11. Miss M to the rescue
Within 10 minutes order had been restored, the tables were washed and returned to their proper places. The mummies were resting on the activity cart; the garbage cans were overflowing with paper towels.

The looks on their faces confirmed that they were well aware of the reality that many things had gone dreadfully wrong with the activity.
I listened from the sidelines as Miss M debriefed “what went right?” “what went wrong?” Before vaulting out the door I stood before my students, fighting to keep my voice from cracking…now that I think about it, I don’t even remember what I said to them. And then I left.

I have some pretty solid ideas about what I would need to do with this activity in the future. Unfortunately I am more inclined to avoid it altogether. My confidence has been extremely shaken. Sunday night I sit here dreading going back in there on Monday. I know that I have to stand up and start defining who I am as a teacher; by this I mean that the grade 8’s will not be roaming the halls with my confused permission, they will not waste our time, and they will speak to me with respect. The grade sevens I am not so worried about-I might be crazy but I am pretty sure that they felt some remorse; at the very least that is a small comfort.

In the eyes of peers I am humbled and stupefied, at least in my own mind. Under pressure I crack, there is no other word for it. But then I have to wonder, should I feel like shit for failing to be entirely competent on my third official day as a teacher? Why did I allow others to make me doubt myself when I couldn’t successfully teach 2 classes where I was not even supposed to be? And now, how am I going to get past all of that and get back to the place where I love teaching? I dread the idea that it could be all downhill from here.

Posted by Sheena at February 8, 2004 05:16 PM