Let's Begin (First Post)

Like Eddie, last semester was my first semester teaching, and when I say it was my first semester teaching, I mean that quite literally. Prior to last August, I had never stepped into a classroom with the intention of standing at the front. I had no experience with student teaching. No experience with subbing. No experience as an aide. The closest thing to teaching I had experienced was leading a few bible studies in college and teaching my nephew how to build a spaceship out of Lego pieces.

So when I was offered a position as an eleventh grade English teacher with an additional post as head golf coach, I was amazed. Not only did I have a position in the grade I wanted to teach—students who have matured enough to be interesting, sans the Senioritis—but I also had a coaching position. The icing on the cake, however, was that the position was in the same district I spent my entire life in: kindergarten through twelfth grade.

I entered my first day of school with the cocky arrogance you’d expect from any millennial. I was back at my school in my town. Some of the teachers I had were still teaching the same classes, so I already felt like an insider. No need to make connections to better my social ranking. Heck, some of the text books in my window had their inner covers inscribed with the names of some of my best friends. (I even found a podium in a fellow teacher’s class that I helped build in drafting during my senior year.) I thought: what could these kids possibly do to make me feel unwanted in one of the few places I actually called home?

Now that I think about it, it’s kind of funny how quickly things changed. To put it bluntly: before the end of my first week, I was in my AP’s office, tears running down my face, deeply concerned I had made a very terrible decision. I distinctly remember saying the phrase, “Nobody told me these kids would be like this.” Of course, if you told new teachers how the kids actually acted, the only applicants you’d bring in would have to be junkies or masochists.

It’s been almost six months now since I was blubbering about not having enough time to grade papers and call parents and write lesson plans and teach the old lady down the hall how to use email and…and…and…

I’ve gone from a child tossed overboard by his father and told to, “Swim,” to treading water for a bit, to doggy paddling, and I’m finally feeling like I’ve accomplished actual movement. I’ve learned many lessons and acquired many stories, just as I know Eddie has done the same. This blog will be our attempt at putting those lessons and stories, and everything in between, in writing. Let’s see how it goes.