First week of teaching

Well, I survived my first official week of teaching. I say survived but I had a mini breakdown last night.

I don't know if that's related to being back at school, being triggered by a memory or merely because I was due to start my period. Incidentally, I have started my period...

In truth, I think it was a combo of all three.

I always keep things locked up but being back at school doesn't really leave time enough for me to cry. I'm not someone who can cry openly in front of people. If that happens, it means I have been caught off-guard. Last night I felt crap and started crying. But once I started I couldn't stop. It was one of those moments where everything raced through my mind. I started to remember stupid things which don't matter but for some reason in that moment they meant the world. I don't understand how people voice their "stuff"* out loud.

In my self-diagnosis (not telling people your "stuff", it becomes inevitable for you to become your own therapist; not necessarily how therapy should work I don't think) I have realised that my inability to tell people things means that I grow impatient with people who can, which is wrong. I have become so independent in taking care of myself in specific ways that when I see other people complain of their "stuff" I am uncomfortable about it. The truth is that I am the problem.

You should be able to unleash your "stuff" with the people you love. Otherwise what are they for. I think that I am a coward for not doing this. And yet knowing that I am coward is not enough for me to even admit on this blog what "stuff" is happening at the moment.

Yesterday, I watched "Take this waltz" and one of the characters said:

"I remember when my niece, Toni, was a newborn, I'd babysit her and sometimes she'd cry, like babies do. Nine times out of ten I could solve the problem, I could figure it out, but...sometimes when I'm walking along the street and a shaft of sunlight falls in a certain way across the pavement and I just want to cry. And a second later, it's over. And I decide, because I'm an adult, to not succumb to the momentary melancholy and I had that sometimes with Toni. She just had a moment like that. A moment of not knowing how, or why, and she just let herself go into it. And there was nothing anyone could do to make it any better -- it was just her, and the fact of being alive, colliding."

I feel the same way. I will be on the train or I'll be walking and I'll see something in the window and I will feel like I just need to cry. Today I was walking somewhere and a few leaves feel from the tree I had just walked under. Isn't that just so utterly and intrinsically poetic. There is something so beautiful about trees shedding their leaves. And they float so gently to the ground. Maybe that's just me being soppy. Or maybe it's the shedding. Maybe that's what I envy the most. (self-diagnosing again?)

Until next time,

T

x



*"stuff" being a reference to everything that plagues our mind/heart

Last day of teaching...

So it was my final day today. I had P1 with year 10s and it wasn't terrible. They gave me a bunch of flowers at the end and a card which they had all signed. It was really sweet. My year 8s all told me sweet things before I left which was also nice. It was a good day.

I felt sick though throughout the day. It is always after the chaos that it hits. I feel like an avalanche of emotions is going to pummel me this summer.

In our group chat, someone said that we shouldn't underestimate what an amazing achievement this is and because I need to aim to be more kind to myself, I am trying to internalise this. I have achieved something great. In 9 months I have become a 'teacher' (although I don't actually get QTS for a month or two I think). Teaching is not for the faint-hearted. It is not a way out or an answer. It is hard work and you make the decision every day to carry on doing it. There are days when you can and days when you can't, days when you're numb and days when you're in between.

I have made it through. And that is no mean feat. Last September, I couldn't see me standing there at the front of a class and now I'm at the other side.

Hi-5 T!

You did it.

This is why we teach

I had my last lesson with my year 7s today. It was P6, after lunch. A lot of the girls were quite early and one of them walked in with her arms outstretched saying, "Misssssss". I stood there and I remember panicking, thinking "is she, oh crap, yeah, she's going to hug me". I stood there with my arms pinned to the side feeling incredibly awkward but also so moved and touched. A few of the other pupils hugged me too. As someone who doesn't instinctively hug, it really highlighted for me why I teach. It was a lovely moment. I know that they will forget me soon enough and I know that they'll move on, but in that moment where they realised that it was my last time teaching them, they were sincere in their sadness.

I have had a lot of tough lessons that I forget my good classes. I want to remember this. When times get hard T, remember that they're just kids. They are only ever kids.

They are complicated, troubled and messy but then so are you.

Today wasn't too bad.

What role are you playing?

I was thinking yesterday about roles and how we are all playing one or another.

It began because over this past year, I have developed the firm belief that becoming a teacher is acting out a particular persona. It is yet another role on the earthly stage of life. I have spoken before on my blog about how teaching = acting. But yesterday I realised that we are all playing different roles.

As a teacher, when I step in front of the pupils, they see me as a teacher. They see me as a dispenser of knowledge, a member of the school staff. They don't see me as a human being. Not straight away. My uncle is a doctor and it occurred to me that where I see him as a human, a family member, his patients see him as the person who is going to get them medically. If we saw people who we come across in our daily routines, as humans and not as the role that they are playing, then the world would stop. We'd accept that our food arrived late to our table because the chef was having a bad day. We wouldn't hate politicians as much because they are imperfect like us. We would not mind if that store does not have our size because the salesperson is having a hard time right now and can't afford to buy clothes. We would pay more for services because we would truly realise that the person who is providing the service needs to survive like we do. We would be empathetic and it would make us more understanding but I wonder, would things get done. Would we become too complacent? Does the pressure of fulfilling our roles just mean that we are collectively playing our part? Is this how we survive?

Part of me is realising that it is through these roles that we are productive. If pupils saw me as their equal, someone who was in pain like they are, they might find it harder to respect me as their teacher. It may seem narrow-minded but I think that throughout this year I have been trying to figure out a new persona for myself that is different from my usual 'nice' one. I can't be 'nice', 'understanding' and empathetic' all the time. Sometimes, I need to demand respect- or I will be forever trying to get kids to give in h/w and they will forever be giving me excuses. Empathy needs to come with expectation. I am not just me anymore. I am me the person and me the teacher.

As I write this, I realise how it is restrictive and draining. What if you don't like the role that you are playing? What if the role stops people from seeing who you are? Maybe kids need to see their teacher as human in order to respect them. It's a difficult question.

I have no answer for this- just pondering...

Laptop thoughts..

It is 11:43 PM. I am sitting on bed, typing on my laptop in darkness. A bright white light beams from the power button on my printer at the other end of the room. Shadows of my open door sit at the top of the stairs, leading down into the rest of the house where almost everyone else is sleeping. I received an important email today. This evening. Life-changing, in a way. I'm pretty sure that in the months to come I shall want to remember this moment. Or perhaps I won't. That's the problem with time. It is always leaving. I won't know until the time comes. 

When I first saw the email, part of me was relieved. It was something I was sort of waiting for, in the back of my mind. I wasn't panicking about it but it was something that I imagine I would panic about later down the line. The second emotion was definitely fear. I attended a lecture this week on adolescence. One of the things which stood out to me was when the speaker mentioned that teenagers and young adults can be fearful of failure, which we'd sort of expect, but they can also be fearful of success. The speaker also mentioned that adolescence is a period that is lengthening-- some people don't move on from adolescence until their mid-twenties. That leaves me in the space of adolescence. It's weird because the lecture was pitched at new teachers understanding their pupils and their experiences of being adolescents. For me, though, I realised that I am still very much making that transition. Getting that email made me feel fear because it was a great sign of great things to come. But that's a terrifying concept, especially for someone who doesn't feel at all prepared for it emotionally or psychologically. I feel like I am the adolescent the speaker was talking about. Fearful of success and in the middle of making a transition from one stage of life to another. 

Why is it that when we are young we want to grow up and when we grow up we want to be young? Why can we never be in the moment? I don't know how to be an adult. I don't know how to feel about being one and I don't know how to move into that space? What does an adult sound like? What does an adult do? What will I lose?

What hurts the most is that I am happy about the email, but I am too focused on failing. I don't know how to stop myself from feeling like I am going to fail. I don't know how to accept the happiness and embrace it. I am worried that I will be lulling myself into a false sense of security. Perhaps I am preparing myself for failure. Perhaps experiencing is believing and I'm still in the stage of disbelief. 

I mentioned in a previous post that being a PGCE students requires cheerleading on one's behalf. 

Here goes:

I can do it.

I can do it.

I've already done it.

I will do it again.

I can do it.

And if I can't, it's okay. 

The centre will hold.

Surviving and not surviving the first term.

One of the things about the PGCE course is that it goes by slowly. Every moment seems to be protracted. And yet time whizzes past. I have completed an entire term at my first placement. Already. I can still remember walking into reception the first day. I remember the nerves. The anxiety. The awkwardness. I still feel those feelings now.

But something changes.

Everyone around me is being offered a job. How did we get here? How did we arrive at this strange place? I want to get to the end. Reach the finish line. I want to get through this year in one piece. I don't want to think about the future.
I want to be selfish.
I want to be a child.
I want to be unrealistic.
I don't want to face reality.
The thought of applying for a job terrifies me.

It's hard to explain, but it's not just the teaching part that scares me.

It's the department meetings, team briefings and other x, y, z meetings
It's being a part of an entire staff of teachers.
It's having a form class and being responsible for them.
It's teaching GCSE students and having an impact on their future careers and job prospects.
It's having to liaise with others on a daily basis.

It's being a part of a large group of people and not knowing where to fit in. It's the feeling of really wanting to be the best possible version of myself but always second-guessing myself.

I know it sounds silly. I feel like this is a given by now. I only ever seem to write when I am at odds with something (most of the time I am at odds with something or another).

This year is more than just me learning about teaching. I feel like this year I need to develop my confidence. I need to become everything that I have the potential to become. I need to stop belittling myself.

Of course, that is easier said than done.

December blues and other worried colours

So it's December. 

There's one more week until the end of term. 

My previous update on my PGCE was almost a month ago, when I first began teaching. I began with starters and small activities. I have since taught whole hour lessons. 

It's been hard and, well, just insert any synonym for difficult here.

I have noticed a few things:

I am constantly pretending. 

Constantly pretending. 

And I don't mean that in the sense that I feel like I have lost myself or that I am pretending to be someone else. It's more nuanced than that. I'm realising more and more that I have to feign confidence in order to have confidence. A teacher told me this week that I seem to be sharper and more direct in tone but I don't feel different. I still feel nervous. I still feel anxious. I am always worried. And I still feel inadequate. I suppose the hard part is that even when it may seem like I have had a good lesson, it never feels like it. So I find it hard to tell if I've made progress. This is a wider issue I have. You would expect compliments and positive feedback to gear me up a notch, encourage me. Instead, I feel like I am still trying to convince myself.

How does one do that? How do I convince myself?

Another issue I have is the planning and the understanding of teaching as a profession. As much as I love uni, in the real world, as a teacher, I need to prepare kids for GCSEs. That is an enormous responsibility. I'm terrified that I won't be able to give pupils what they deserve. There is so much to consider in the planning of a lesson that I worry that I am merely going through the motions and that once I am on my own, I won't be able to do it. I am absolutely terrified about being a member of staff and having to interact with so many teacher on a day to day basis. I am good at pretending that I am confident but I hate feeling anxious all the time, especially in staff rooms. I still feel out of place sometimes.

It's like I am a muggle, entering Hogwarts for the first time. I am excited and I know that I could fit in. I know that I do fit in. I have been invited. I got the letter. I went to buy my books. I have a pet owl. I have the robes.

But I don't have the language. 

There are places in the castle that other people know about.

I always forget the password to the common room.

I feel weird when sitting in the Great Hall. I talk to lots of people but I don't have my Ron, Harry or Hermione. 

I am adrift. 

If I was advising someone else I would say, 

               "Don't worry. You will learn about secret places in the castles. You will find a Hermione.                      She will help you with your exams. You will get better at remembering the passwords."

but life sucks and like most people, I ignore my own advice.

It's silly to worry, I know. But I am constantly second guessing myself. 

We shall see how I feel in January.

x

T

Dipping my toes in-

For the past month or so, I have been hovering around the back of various classes. These are the classes which I will eventually be taking over. So far, however, I have been mainly observing and walking around the classroom. 

This week, I ventured to the front of the class for the first time. 

Classrooms are strange spaces. There are so many dynamics to it. I didn't notice until I began my placement how many different spaces there are in one classroom. There's the back and the front of the class but there's the space amongst the students also. Sitting at the back feels the most safest. Walking around the class, speaking to kids at different tables is slightly more difficult, but it still feels relatively safe. Moving to the front of the class, however, is a whole other kettle of fish. It's a scary place. It's terrifying. This is the space where all eyes are on you. This is the space which theoretically is mine- MY space. 

It doesn't feel that way though. I taught for only 10/15 minutes at the beginning of a lesson but I felt exhausted afterwards. And numb. I felt so numb. As if I wasn't actually there when I was teaching. Like an out of body experience. I couldn't remember anything about my part of the lesson after I was done. I immediately tried to rid myself of the memory. But I know this is stupid. Rationally, I know that it wasn't terrible. But I still lack so much confidence. 

Each day is a challenge for me. I consider often, the possibility of leaving the course. Of giving up. I know I can't give up. I know that I need to keep going. But I can't imagine the end right now. It feels like it won't happen. Like I won't get there. So I tell myself to not think that far ahead. To take it all one step at a time. One day at a time. One lesson at a time.

So, I have dipped my toes into murky waters... We shall see how I fare...

Beginnings and worries and fears and anxieties and..... I don't know if I can do it.

I have tried to write this post so many times.

Here goes- 

I've started my PGCE course. 

I've been at uni for a few weeks and now I'm starting my first placement. I'm absolutely terrified. TERRIFIED. 

I keep going through these highs and lows. At first my brain tells me I'll be fine. That I can do it. But then I picture myself standing in front of a class and I just have this image of water passing through my fingers and the kids not listening to me. Then my brain shuts itself down and I retreat. A bit like how a hedgehog turns back into itself. And then my rational self tells me that I'll have to confront the fear. 

I have these constant thoughts about quitting. I keep saying that I don't need to put myself through this. I tell myself that it'll be ok. But every time I think this, it gets slightly better. 

Of course, the moments are fleeting. Uni has become a haven. A safe place. The tutors are like a warm, comforting blanket on a cold day. I had two days at my new school and went back to uni feeling panicked. Being around the others in my group, however, made me feel less scared and more hopeful. Sitting here now though, the fear is creeping back. 

People always talk about how hard this year is. I'm seeing it already. The hard bit for me is trying to identify if I can do it. Can I do it? 

I'm worried about the teaching element. I'm nervous about having to find a place in a school where I'm the 'new' one. I have to navigate the staff room and other places in the school where I'm not already someone who belongs. In general, I'm having to create spaces for myself and assert myself. This isn't something that I'm used to. In fact, it goes against my entire being. It freaks me out.

The hardest part is deep down I know I can do it. I know that I could be a good teacher. But that's not enough. Knowing it isn't enough. I have to learn how to be a great teacher. I have to figure out how to manage a class so that I can teach. 

In summary:

Level of hope-           1%

Level of fear-          99%