We were trained in July and August, with coursework from Loyola University Chicago, and student-taught alongside permanent teachers teaching summer school. It was definitely baptism by fire, and while first-year teachers rarely feel ready to start the school year, we all (there were eleven other volunteers in my house) felt unsettled as we approached the opening day in our own classrooms.
Upstairs from me, there was a veteran teacher, John Minor, who was teaching seventh grade. We shook hands on the first day back for all teachers, and he offered something to me that changed the arc of my teaching career: "Come by anytime to observe me in my classroom. Copy me and make it your own." I joked with him about how copying is not allowed in schools. His response was, "Then make it your own."
I will admit that in the first few months, I was so overwhelmed with my own work that my prep periods were simply a respite from the day. They were a chance for me to catch my breath. But after the new year, in the early part of 1997, since I was still struggling, I made the time to get into Mr. Minor's classroom to see how he ran his room. I wish I had gone in sooner.
While I don't remember the specifics, I know I spent a great deal of time in the back, scribbling on a legal pad what I saw him do that worked in his classroom. When I got back to my room and my students, some of it worked, and some of it didn't. However, I took his advice and made it my own. It wasn't perfect, but I was not looking for perfect. I needed something different from what I was doing because what I was doing was not working. It wasn't working for me. It wasn't working for my students.
Fortunately, as part of ICTC, we had professional development along the way, in addition to what was offered at our own buildings. We had people come to observe us and share feedback from ICTC in addition to our building principal's observations. There was a great deal of support offered for a position in education that, while surrounded by students, is often lonely and isolated from other adults. It's hard to get better when you don't see what "better" is.
I am a far cry from that baby teacher from more than twenty-seven years ago. It is only because of teachers like John Minor who let me learn from him. There have been plenty of others who have shared wisdom, who have mentored, who have opened their classroom and office doors. I hope for this to be the norm for all levels of education, for teachers, and for students. Learning is a messy, clumsy process. Think about a toddler learning to walk. How many times does one fall down before mastering the balance and dexterity needed for that critical skill of life? That process is often characterized by tremendous support, family and friends, encouraging even the slightest improvement, the single first step by a baby.
Why should learning in school be any different? Yes, I know assessments are different, as they should be. For the last two weeks, I've written about the importance of grades and second chances. The process of learning is one that does not stop once one has "graduated into the real world." The number of times in a week that I reach out to a colleague in EGPS, a colleague superintendent, a School Committee member, legal counsel, an EG Town Official, or an educator from another state marks the moments when I've come across something that I've not encountered before. That's because the work of education is done by humans, on behalf of younger humans, who will make mistakes throughout the process. We can learn from others how to manage and navigate these unchartered waters.
A life lesson I first learned from John Minor.
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| Photo courtesy of www.learnfromothers.skillsforcare.org.uk |
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