As I gathered all my things (striped LL Bean canvas bag, lunch, books) to head up the hill from my car to the classroom, I was also gathering my wits about me, as my dad would always say. I was physically and mentally gearing myself up for the week. As I hastily set about the week, little did I know that the events of that morning would provide me a substantial boost. In fact, those events have motivated me to this very minute to keep on pushing to teach and grade and plan and discipline.
About 15 minutes into first period, my principal came to my door. She waited there, observing the classroom's activities briefly. She had a calm look on her face, as she often does, and she said softly, "That's alright, just go on doin what you're doin, and when you have a minute, I will talk to you outside." By her demeanor, I could tell it wasn't anything bad. But curiosity darted though my mind as I paced to the door.
"Your test was exactly what I was looking for. That is exactly what I hoped for from the teachers here. It was rigorous. It tests the kids' real abilities. Can I use it as an example this week at the faculty meeting?" She asked as she gave me the good news, concisely and coolly.She was referring to the 9-weeks' final exam all teachers had to create and submit for her approval.
I was bursting with joy like a water balloon on a hot car windshield. She even proceeded to give me a hug. Now, that might sound terrible and corny to a lot/ most other corps members, but that is just the kind of encouragement I respond to and thrive on. "Words of affirmation" is what has kept me going through college, high school, middle school, even all the way back to elementary school. Her simple words of affirmation made me feel capable and important at the school, when plenty of days had (and still have) me second guessing my affect or usefulness at all.
She concluded her short congratulations with, "You won't be here [meaning teaching the subject I am currently teaching] long. Hopefully, you'll soon teach English II." I don't know if that would be possible or not, but I definitely would be interested in that opportunity: smaller class sizes, for one! If that did happen, it'd probably be next year. All I can say is, I approach my job with so much more cheerfulness and excitement now ... I am so motivated to give a test that is worth my students' time, that really gets them to think, and that pleases what the leadership (who I respect and admire) and their expectations/hopes.
This one simple, positive interaction with my principal made me feel like a part of the Forest Hill "family," as she calls it. If the staff were a machine, I would feel like I have a defined function and I know how to do it. It feels good to know how to do your job, and to get gentle nudges every now and then that indicate that you're doing it right and well. I certainly worry sometimes that I am not doing ALL that I can or should be doing. But such worries need to be brought into equilibrium by the realization that doing the important things well, like assessing (and classroom managing), and not killing yourself over minutia, is enough.
About 15 minutes into first period, my principal came to my door. She waited there, observing the classroom's activities briefly. She had a calm look on her face, as she often does, and she said softly, "That's alright, just go on doin what you're doin, and when you have a minute, I will talk to you outside." By her demeanor, I could tell it wasn't anything bad. But curiosity darted though my mind as I paced to the door.
"Your test was exactly what I was looking for. That is exactly what I hoped for from the teachers here. It was rigorous. It tests the kids' real abilities. Can I use it as an example this week at the faculty meeting?" She asked as she gave me the good news, concisely and coolly.She was referring to the 9-weeks' final exam all teachers had to create and submit for her approval.
I was bursting with joy like a water balloon on a hot car windshield. She even proceeded to give me a hug. Now, that might sound terrible and corny to a lot/ most other corps members, but that is just the kind of encouragement I respond to and thrive on. "Words of affirmation" is what has kept me going through college, high school, middle school, even all the way back to elementary school. Her simple words of affirmation made me feel capable and important at the school, when plenty of days had (and still have) me second guessing my affect or usefulness at all.
She concluded her short congratulations with, "You won't be here [meaning teaching the subject I am currently teaching] long. Hopefully, you'll soon teach English II." I don't know if that would be possible or not, but I definitely would be interested in that opportunity: smaller class sizes, for one! If that did happen, it'd probably be next year. All I can say is, I approach my job with so much more cheerfulness and excitement now ... I am so motivated to give a test that is worth my students' time, that really gets them to think, and that pleases what the leadership (who I respect and admire) and their expectations/hopes.
This one simple, positive interaction with my principal made me feel like a part of the Forest Hill "family," as she calls it. If the staff were a machine, I would feel like I have a defined function and I know how to do it. It feels good to know how to do your job, and to get gentle nudges every now and then that indicate that you're doing it right and well. I certainly worry sometimes that I am not doing ALL that I can or should be doing. But such worries need to be brought into equilibrium by the realization that doing the important things well, like assessing (and classroom managing), and not killing yourself over minutia, is enough.
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