“You’re full of s#@%.”
My career as an English teacher started off with a bang. Literally. It was that loud, head splitting clang of a door slamming shut behind you. I walked into my classroom empty handed. No textbook. No dry erase marker. No lesson plan. And of course, no idea what I should do. Although I had arrived at my new place of employment less than an hour ago, my principal wanted me to begin teaching. As in now.
But…isn’t there paper work to do?
Introductions to be made?
What grade are these kids in?
Can I pee first?
That first day was rough. It was awkward. I was nervous. The kids were excited and fidgety. Despite the fact that the contract I had signed stated that we would be teaching classes together, my co-teachers were nowhere to be found. I would later learn there were different versions of my employment agreement floating around, which meant my contract was useless…at least the copy I had.
But that’s not the point. The point is that I survived. I learned how to manage my students. I learned how to stay sane. Eventually I developed a repertoire that I used day in and day out. My routine worked. It worked well. So well, in fact, that I stopped planning altogether.
I quickly became jaded. I learned early on that no one paid attention to what I did in my class. No one evaluated my monthly lesson plans. After the second month on the job, I realized that I could simply delete the word October and replace it with November. Nothing else. No one read them. No one could read them. I was the lone foreigner at my school.
In short, I learned that I could simply get by. And that’s exactly what I did.
BUT…
Just getting by isn’t what a teacher does. Not caring isn’t how a teacher thinks. Not preparing isn’t how a teacher values his students. An arrogant know-it-all in the classroom isn’t a teacher. I thought that because I knew far more English than anyone for miles, I could relax and not give much thought to my job. We owe our students much more than a minimal effort. I let mine down. I thought I was the greatest thing to ever happen to those countryside Korean students.
I hope this isn’t you. But it was me for a time. My students never said it, but surely they were thinking it: “You’re so full of s#@%.”
What about you? Have you ever stopped caring? How did you snap yourself out of it?
