Teaching Odyssey

Written by Guest Contributor:  Justin Moretta

      

      

       I am an unemployed teacher. I graduated in May of 2011 with a master’s degree in education. Acquiring said master’s degree cost my wife and me approximately $30,000. This monetary sum is significant. However, the true cost of my pursuit of a teaching job is the hours I’ve spent preparing and the emotional rollercoaster I have been on for the past year.

       My preparation to become an educator included hours of studying educational theories from Horace Mann to Spencer Kagan. I learned about differentiation, scaffolding, AYP, formative assessment, Bloom’s taxonomy, benchmarks, rubrics, and countless other educational buzzwords that would allow me to speak the language of teachers and administrators. Experienced teachers taught me important lessons about things like backward planning and classroom management. I was made aware of terrifying statistics about child abuse, drug abuse, and teenage (and pre-teen) pregnancy. The classes were often boring, repetitive, and lacking in pragmatism. The classes that were useful and/or interesting were just frequent enough to keep me engaged.

       Those few gems, some interesting and kind classmates, and my monetary commitment kept me enrolled and engaged long enough to reach my next challenge, student teaching. The first level of student teaching is mostly observation. Like most people, I hadn’t been in a high school class since I was a high school student. I immediately began to identify with the students and it took some time and effort to look at the classroom with the perspective of a teacher. With that new perspective I saw how difficult it was to engage 30 teenagers in a lesson. Thanks to a wonderful cooperating teacher, I also saw that it was possible, and I knew that it was a challenge I wanted to tackle.

       The night before I had to teach my first lesson I kept imagining all the nightmare scenarios that might play out. I was sure the kids would recognize me as a fraud. That they either would just ignore me completely, or worse, that they would attack me and make me look like an ass. The first 20 minutes or so were a blur. Then, my heartbeat slowed a bit and I realized things were actually going according to plan. The kids were listening and participating. I had somehow managed to keep the panic out of my voice and limited the amount of sweat on my brow. I wasn’t any Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society, but the kids enjoyed the lesson. What’s more, I enjoyed the lesson and I knew that I wanted to do it again.

       The next step in the process was full-time student teaching. I would be in charge of several classes for a longer period of time. My time would be split between a high school and a middle school, approximately 6 weeks at each. The high school assignment was first, and I was sent to a misery factory. Everyone in the place was depressed. The teachers, the administrators, and especially the students entered the building everyday as if it was the first day of a life sentence. I was assigned two 11 th grade classes and one 10th. They were all a struggle to work with, but one 11th grade class was nearly impossible. The cooperating teacher informed me that it was the worst behaved class she had experienced in 25 years of teaching. She told me that I would be allowed to observe her teaching the class for a week and then take over on the following Monday. After two days she literally threw her hands up and informed me that I would be taking over the next day. On my first day with this class, in response to some request for quiet or attention, a student told asked me, "Who the fuck are you? You aren’t my teacher. Why would I listen to you?" My response was something about the fact that I would be his teacher for the next few weeks and that he had better pay attention or his grade would suffer. He laughed and walked out. After the class I asked the cooperating teacher if I should have written him up and/or sent him to the office. She informed me that the administration frowned on issues like that being brought to their attention and that it was better handled inside the classroom. She did not offer any suggestions on how to handle the situation in the classroom.

       Eventually things settled down a bit. I was able to get the students to listen and participate in lessons and started to make some progress. That’s not to say that there weren’t still issues. During a reading of "Coming of Age in Mississippi", just as the narrator is telling of the beatings she received at the hands of segregationists, a student stood up in class, declared, "I have to fart" and then let go an emphatic fart for all the world to hear.

       Just as I had learned how to deal with these distractions and get the classes back on task it was time to leave and move on to my second student teaching experience. This time I was placed in a small, affluent middle school. I was given two 7th and two 8th grade classes to work with. Upon entering the classroom for the first time I was horrified to see the students hovering around the teacher’s desk and in many cases literally clinging to her. The students loved her and she ate it up. She was far too permissive and creepily involved in their social lives. She knew who everyone was "dating" and she readily dispensed relationship advice. She also did altruistic things for the kids. For instance, she brought in a nutritious lunch everyday for one student whose parents were either unable or unwilling to provide it. Anyway, this all added up to a great love affair between the students and the teacher. I was there to replace the teacher, at least for six weeks. It did not go well. I battled the best I could for six weeks and, with generous scoring, may have earned a draw.

       During this time I was applying for jobs all over the place. I was living on Long Island and applying there. I was also applying for positions around Boston and Buffalo. The only real interview I was able to land was at a suburban Buffalo school. I went in brimming with confidence, and considering it was my first teaching interview I thought it went very well. The principal went so far as to tell me he had a number of candidates to interview, but I had set the bar very high. I left feeling certain that I would be brought back for the second round of interviews. I was not brought back. The principal informed me that I had given a great interview, but others had given equally good interviews and also brought years of experience to the table.

       Those words would become a haunting refrain throughout my search to land a teaching job. I have lost out on jobs in three other school districts because I lack classroom experience. One assistant principal went so far as to tell me she wanted to hire me, but the principal felt compelled to go with someone who had experience at the grade level.

       Each of those disappointments has been a bitter pill to swallow, but the job that I allowed to slip through my fingers is the one that truly plagues my mind. The initial interview was a joy. I connected with the department chair, and we clearly had a rapport. I was sure I would be asked back, and this time I was correct. The second round of interviews consisted of delivering two mini lessons to a group of students and staff who would act as the "class". Without going into details about why, my lessons flopped. I had worked hard on the plans; I was excited and confident heading into the classroom, and I almost immediately realized that things weren’t going well. The students weren’t responding the way I hoped. The teachers in the room looked bored and/or disappointed. I did my best to add energy and enthusiasm to the room, but nothing seemed to work. By this time I had taught hundreds of class sessions, (in the fall I was hired as a long-term substitute and had my own class for 4 months) and I had never felt so lost in front of a class.

       After the lessons the teachers and the students asked me questions about the lesson and how I felt it went. I tried to put a positive spin on it. I pointed out the highlights of the lessons and tried to convey how strong I felt my lesson plans were. What I wanted to do was to explain to them that I wasn’t sure what had just happened, but that I really was a good teacher. That this was a fluke. That every classroom evaluation I had ever been given was overwhelmingly positive, and that if they gave me my own class they would really see what I could do. Of course I couldn’t say those things. I was left knowing that I had blown it.

       For the next two days I waited around for the ax to fall. I knew it had not gone well, but I would allow myself to hope that others had failed as well. Maybe they would see my passion for the job and my skill at planning and decide they had to have me. Maybe my initial interview went well enough that it would carry me through. I would vacillate between these hopes and the certainty that I had failed. It was an agonizing wait.

       Finally, the email came and I was informed that they would not be bringing me back for the final round. All the emotions that had built up over the months of pursuing a position and especially the last two days of waiting exploded in my head and I was lost. I blanked out for a few minutes. My wife and my dog were there trying to comfort me, but it was of no use. I walked away from them and once I was alone I just collapsed. To get so close to something I had worked so hard for and to let it slip through my fingers was too much to bear at that moment. I felt like my brain was on fire and I could not control my emotions. It was the most visceral experience of my life.

       I have not fully recovered. I replay the lesson all the time. I think about all the things I could have done differently. I think about how different my life could be if I had landed that job. In my mind, everything would be perfect if I had just gotten that job.

       I would like to tell you that my resolve has been hardened by these rejections, and that I won’t give up on my dream. However, I don’t know if I can continue down this path. I don’t know if my ego, my wallet, and my sanity can take much more of this. I have written the happy ending to this story in my mind a thousand times. Reality, however, keeps getting in the way.