Confessions of a Fourth Year Teacher

Ah yes, another bittersweet end to yet another year of teaching. I would have to say that it is truly bittersweet because I am glad that it is all over, and I no longer have to deal with a specific handful of disruptive, disrespectful, irresponsible and/or immature students. BUT what I will be missing will be that even smaller percentage of the students that I was really able to build relationships with, guided them with everything that I knew about the arts and helped mold them into young adults. Now, they will have to independently continue on their path of life without me.

Perhaps it is the feeling of no longer being needed that gets me depressed. Or perhaps it is the idea that I didn't get enough closure with some of the kids - dang, not even a goodbye. I also sometimes think way too much into some of this stuff, as this career definitely messes with your head and emotions. Because, teaching isn't just some nine to five job, but it is a way of life. You do not stop becoming a teacher once you leave your classroom, but you are a teacher in mind, body and soul no matter where you go. There is a also a part of your mind, body and soul that you give up when you are a teacher, when you let the lives of your students come in and mesh with yours once you build that relationship. I guess this is why I feel so down and out at the end of the year. I'm not sure what it is related to, whether if it is due to sympathy, empathy, sadness, dedication, loss - but I do know that I can recall the first time that I ever really felt something for a kid. When I was an aid in a self contained classroom, we had a female student that ran away from home and started hanging out with these adult men near Myrtle Beach's boulevard. We had only heard rumors through her classmates, such as they claimed that they saw her or that she was involved in a pornography ring. All I knew was that with each passing day of this girl missing and perhaps even dead, I would continue to feel worse and frightened for her. I couldn't understand these sudden emotions, as I still thought of teaching as "just a job," but I would actually start to go home at night and think about this girl and sometimes tears would build up thinking about what this poor girl could be going through. This helped me to see that teachers aren't just there to implement some standards, but where deep relationships develop that will last a life time. After a few weeks, the girl was found by the police and returned to school where her classmates greeted her with mocking applause and laughter, but I will always remember the first time that I ever felt something for my students' safety or success.

Safety and Success are always the two things that I tell the kids that I care the most about them during our beginning of the year talks. But there is definitely one student this year that I have worked with more, ensuring that she was successful and that she was "safe" in one fashion or another. There were three eighth graders that I felt like I really bonded with this year. Each was extremely talented, had great senses of humor and each of them were able to be with me for both semesters. But "Mary" was the only one that had been with me since she was in the sixth grade, and the only one that dragged me through consistent dramatic turmoil. I saw Mary as an extreme perfectionist and someone who frequently put herself down. I used to think that she was displaying some classic cases of attention seeking behavior. She probably was the greatest artist in the school, but would frequently say that her work sucks or that she sucks at life. Such words were extremely upsetting and disconcerting to hear, and I initially played them off as "ah, she is just fishing for compliments and trying to get people to tell her otherwise."

Things were a little bit different this year. Her behaviors were becoming more and more frequent, along with breaking down and crying. I tried to help her with whatever I could when she would get into these spells. My heart would really go out to her when I would her hunched over a beautiful piece of artwork, stained with the droplets of her tears because she was panicking from too much work at school and extracurricular activities. It seemed that no matter what she was going to do, it had to be done to her high level of standards - but at what cost? I only wish more of my students displayed at least A TENTH of this girl's motivation and abilities, but I guess that was what made Mary so unique and special. Amongst these fits of self loathing and giving her every different possible suggestion or nugget of advice that I could think of, there was nothing that would halt the crying or change her attitude. I even opened up to her and revealed things from my personal life and teenage years that I would never reveal to any of my other students, just to get some connection or understanding through to her. She would still just yell "NO," disregard all of my suggestions, or even sound more and more arrogant that whatever I suggested was just foolish and she retorted with harsh sarcasm. Before I knew it, I had spent several classes attending to the needs and attention of Mary and making sure that she was okay. During that time, I also had a good twenty some odd other children that I was inadvertently neglecting because I would feel even worse if I just got up and left Mary without much denouement over the conflict at hand.

After noticing how unfair this was to my other students, that all of my suggestions for Mary weren't working and that my referral to the guidance counselors only back fired on me, I decided to seek outside help and inform Mary's father. After a nice long conversation with him, he totally understood everything that I was going through. He even joked to me and said that the ways that Mary acted at home was almost like having a second wife, and that at times, she was an arrogant, attention seeking, spoiled brat that just needs to be put in her place by not playing into her "game." It was one of the greatest parent conferences that I ever got. Unfortunately, we did still have a few days where she would shut down and cry. I felt so bad for her that I just wanted to pat her on the back, but instead I would tell her that everything would be okay and that I was always proud of her. In the end, I know Mary helped to make me into a better teacher by building up my patience, helping to diffuse situations and knowing when to "let go" so that the student could make their own choices for their behaviors. It was also nice to hear when she needed my help to get into an arts program, that she informed me of how much I had inspired her and that I always believed in her. As a teacher, those little words of thanks or knowing that I helped to make a difference in the life of a child are what keep me going.

Besides saying good-bye and missing my kids, I like to sit back and reflect on everything else that happened this year. Most exciting would have to be the fact that I got teacher of the year, even more exciting considering that I only got it by my fourth year. It was so nice to hear that my colleagues believed, supported and recognized for all of my hard work. I remember the day that they announced it on the morning news program, where I was so excited; I screamed out loud with my most ferocious heavy metal scream that it scared a boy near me. After the announcement, I made a crown out of paper and decorated it with Mel Brooks' legendary slogan: "It's good to be the King." I wore my crown throughout the day, and at one point asked a roaming group of girls to go back to class. The biggest girl in the group told me, "Get your hand out of my face!" I then redirected her with a private conference, where I can now recall how silly I must have looked when demanding this student take me seriously - I was all red in the face from anger but with a paper crown decorated with glitter and buttons bouncing around on my head.

But on a personal level, I was also going through a lot of other issues. I am VERY fortunate to have such a loving, caring and supportive wife and family; but for some reason or another, I was really suffering from some anxiety. I would have an extremely hard time falling asleep at night. I tossed and turned, wondering and worrying what issues I would face tomorrow, what lessons would I teach and how would the students react to them. I was also facing some issues of depression. I felt extremely down and out and powerless when a student would tell me off, talk back to me or be utterly disrespectful. I would try to bury it down and not let it bother me. I did not wanting to burden administration with excessive referrals for what I felt like were small issues, but the stuff would resurface and be constantly on my mind for hours. I thought that washing away the day with cheap alcohol would help. I also found that I really didn't care about what I ate anymore, especially after getting into such great shape for my wedding. But the booze wash-a-ways gradually turned from "just Thursdays" or, only drinking with company, only to turn to the mentality of "hey the dogs are here, I can always drink with them." There have been quite a few days this year when I have thought to myself and wondered if I am in deed an alcoholic. After analyzing and re-analyzing specific situations, I realized the alcohol never prevented me from getting my stuff done, but I knew it was time that I would have to look for outside help. In fact, on the day that I was announced teacher of the year, my sister called me up and asked what I was doing. As to which I jokingly replied with a hint of shame in my voice, "I'm picking up my new prescriptions for Xanax and Zoloft."

It took me some time to realize that I didn't really need the stuff and thought that I had no true reason to be suffering from depression since I did have a happy and wonderful marriage with my wife, came from a loving family and I loved the fact that as a teacher, I could build a relationship that touches a life forever. Once I was off my meds, my next step was that I desperately wanted to get the Horry County Teacher of the Year spot as well. I poured my heart out into the essay, more so than any other piece of writing that I had ever completed. While writing the essay, I noticed that I hadn't really accomplished that much so it was a bit difficult expanding on some things such as community involvement or awards. I also had to take everything that I had been learning from my Coastal classes, which were previously just there to help me obtain my teaching certificate through PACE, but now more importantly, the recent decision to obtain my Master's in Technology Integration. For the essay and throughout the year, I applied what I learned from the Gifted and Talented arts program at Coastal by hosting a Fashion Show with costumes entirely made out of newspaper and we were covered by the local news. I introduced my students to the Art Olympics, which was a lot of kinesthetic art games that we got to play on our last day in the classroom. The Gifted and Talented program also gave me the confidence to have a field trip with the kids. In November we went to the disappointing Waccamaw Tribal Grounds (where the best part was getting lunch at Wendy's) and in the spring, we visited the Burroughs and Chapin Art Museum, followed by a picnic at the Myrtle Beach State park where the kids ran around on the beach. The arts summer camp, also helped me to continue my participation and presentation at the SC Art Educator's Association and host my own staff development at school. Finally, the G & T camp inspired me to have our second annual Art and Poetry Forum with Carrie Baker. We had such low numbers of entries, so he got Mary to dress up like me and shoot a promo promising homemade ice cream and prizes for the winners. The students this year had to make a piece of art that showed us how they felt on the issues of immigration, civil rights and/or community involvement by using non-linguistic representation. I thought it was so awesome knowing that a student, who has gay parents, won a prize for telling the school how she felt about gay marriage in her poem.

My other classes helped me to increase the achievement in my students, analyze data (blah!) and learn new types of technology, but one class that had really changed my own personal life and achievements would have to be in the Coastal Area Writing Project. What initially appeared as a free class for six graduate hours, turned into my regained appreciation of writing since college. CAWP helped me understand that writing is an art form and that all good writers are also good readers. The required text for the course was Stephen King's On Writing. It totally opened my eyes and got me really determined on getting my writing out there, and that I was going to read more. I used to only read the collected stories of my super heroes in graphic novels and trade paperbacks, but after reading King's book, I immediately got a library card and started to read for pleasure. I stopped listening to my IPod in the car, and instead got books on CD. King's book also taught me that I needed to be disciplined; I have maintained a reading and writing quota of reading for about twenty minutes prior to school every day and writing five pages on Sunday. After getting my quota together and sticking to it, I have read a dozen or so books and I have been working on my novel through the year. As of now, I am about two hundred and fifty pages in and nearly completed with my first draft. I have also completed about an eighty page memoir from my younger days, but not sure if that would be publisher worthy.

Besides getting back into writing, CAWP showed me a great lesson on grid drawing, which my students took to the next level when whole classes collaborated and made gigantic grid portraits of Mr. and Mrs. President, Sonya Sotomayor and even the "Nature Boy", Ric WOOOOOOOO Flair, who proudly showed off my student's work on his Facebook page so that all of his fans could see. I also learned about Storyline, which is kind of like make believe hands on activities that cover one LARGE unit. I applied my new found knowledge onto my worst class of seventh graders. My scenario was all about the Holocaust, which they learned about in their Social Studies class. I read them a chapter out of the award winning graphic novel Maus, and we then went through smaller activities that covered setting, conflict and character development which would prepare students to create their own graphic novel. All of these discoveries and experiments helped me to become a better teacher when I learned how to solve the problems of motivation and trying to better understand what the kids want. I didn't want to fight constant battles of them roaming around and horse playing, so I gave them assignments that promoted movement, hands-on learning and collaboration with their friends.
But after all was said and done, it turns out that I didn't get Horry County's teacher of the year, I didn't even make it to the top ten despite all of the hard work I put into my writing. I was pretty bitter and sick to the stomach upon finding out, especially when they wouldn't even reveal my score on the essay. I like to think it is because I am still not that experienced, oh, and I think I mentioned something about standardized testing was merely a pissing contest between teachers - but OH WELL, I spoke my mind. I also did not win the Teacher category at the first annual Horry County Technology fair; even though I spent days utilizing my film editing experience to create presentations and even developing my own philosophy on technology integration. However, I did learn some new and interesting programs and web sites that I would like to use next year. In the end, just like I told Mary when she was upset that her artwork didn't win the next division for being a representative of Horry County, it isn't about winning, but what is learned along the way and how our struggles make us stronger, smarter and more experienced. Besides the awards and recognition from my peers, one of the greatest gifts of all that I received this year was a framed drawing of the Green Lantern done by one of my students who had been with me all year. On the back she writes: "Mr. G, if it wasn't for your class, I wouldn't have started drawing the way I did. That in itself is an amazing gift, and I'll always remember that. Thank you so much for the inspiration and encouragement." And it is these experiences that are my most memorable ones from year four.