Weird Stuff That Happened to Me During a Five-Day Study Marathon

I have spent the last five days days living, breathing, and fantasizing about teaching. I've literally been surrounded by piles of books and papers representing the various projects I'm working on. I've read, I've thought, I've written. What a sense of fatigue I feel right now as I realize all the hard work I've done isn't enough--I still have so much to do and so little time. Oh, well. Now that I have reentered the land of the living, and look back at the last 5 days, I see some truly weird and wonderful stuff that happened while I was away:

1. I went from knowing nothing about rocks to now feeling confident about my knowledge of sedimentary, igneous, and metamorphic rocks. I fell in love with the rock cycle and even designed a game for science students. In it, each pair of students starts out as a certain type of rock and then things happen and they get transformed into other types of rocks. Once they take their journey through the rock cycle, they immortalize the trip through writing their memoirs.
2. I rekindled my love of how transformative literature can be and how it can be used to teach, to give hope, and to heal. I've begun to wonder if I should ditch my plans to become a middle school math teacher and instead pursue humanities.
3. I learned that gardening is really not about plants. When I hit the wall on Saturday afternoon, I went out for 3 hours of gardening. I don't know what happened, but it all seemed like a religious experience. Maybe it was the music I was listening to (Beethoven piano concertos), maybe it was the fact that I was chopping things down, maybe it was the fact that dusk began to fall. I don't know exactly what it was, but I suddenly became so aware of how much I ached to help kids, to empower them to see themselves as capable and able to impact the world in a positive way. Please, oh please, let me get a job when this is over!

LIke a Phoenix, Rising From My Own Ashes

The atmosphere is the room was pure electricity. I was focused and energized. The kids were deeply engaged and filled with a sense of wonder. My field instructor looked on with approval and thought: Wow, she's a natural teacher. My first official observation was pure magic.

Unfortunately, this magic was pure imagination. It's how I visualized the lesson over and over. It's the way I wanted it to be, the way I thought it could be. The reality was so devastating, so unlike what I dreamed of. In the "real" version, I was so nervous that I became totally oblivious to the kids--I'm not even sure I knew they were in the room with me! Because I wasn't connecting with the kids, I missed the fact that my lesson was falling flat on its face--pacing way too slow, me getting mired in detail and derailed by student comments. The introductory activity should have been 5 minutes, but it was still going after 20 minutes. I knew something was wrong, but I was so removed from what was happening that I couldn't see my way out, so I kept plodding on.

When it was all over, I was beyond upset. Of course, my teacher and field supervisor were supportive and gave me some useful feedback. Outwardly I tried to appear to take it all philosophically, but I felt done in. I heard the voice in my head: if you were really teacher material, you wouldn't have done this poorly. I went home, seemingly unable to process it all.

The next day, something extraordinary happened. When I awoke, I felt like an entirely new person. I had apparently done lots of reflection while I was asleep! Suddenly, I totally "got" the feedback I was given the day before and, more importantly, knew what I could do to improve. I embraced my "fail" and decided it would be my friend, it would be my teacher. When I went to school, I began to see things through new eyes, and I felt strangely more confident as a teacher. The mistakes I had made really helped me define who I wanted to be and how to get there. I have risen again, wiser and more powerful than before.

Two Little Stars in a Sea of Circles

Jim (not his real name) was late handing in his math homework. I had graded the other students' homework and most did very well. As I began to grade Jim's paper, I did what I normally do: I circled the incorrect answers. My heart sank as I circled and circled and circled--the first 12 problems were incorrect. I kept on grading and, suddenly, I saw a correct answer. It gave me such an emotional jolt that I quickly made a star next to the answer. To my amazement, the next answer was correct as well. Another star. Normally, I don't star each correct answer, but I did this time. It turned out that those two stars were the only stars in a sea of circles. I looked over the many incorrect problems to see why he had missed them and realized he was quite confused about the topic. I'd need to work with him and I was not looking forward to him seeing all the circles. There was so much we needed to cover. Where would I begin? How could I build his confidence? The two little stars seemed to call out to me: begin with us, they told me. And so I did. When Jim and I sat down to work together, I began with the stars. "You did a great job with #15--tell me what you did to get the answer." As he talked me through his process, which was mathematically solid, I had the impression that we were constructing a foundation--something solid we could build on. We both saw that he had done some competent math, and so it became comfortable to bring up the problems he did incorrectly. We talked about how the incorrect problems were different to him and were able to pinpoint areas of confusion. His attitude seemed open and hopeful. I felt the time we worked together was helping both of us to move forward. Thank you, little stars.

Not Blogging on a Snowy Day

This is our second day of "vacation" due to school cancelations brought on by snow. Should I feel guilty about how thrilled I am to be home instead of in the classroom?? Well, no. I have been thinking about the kids and missing them, BUT, I find this "forced" slowdown of my hectic life to be utterly delicious. I'm not required to think profound thoughts , I'm not required to hold an intelligent conversation, and I'm not required to engage in educational activities. In short, I'm

r-e-l-a-x-i-n-g, and it is so renewing! So how do I handle our professor's request that we blog about the science readings due today? (Wow. Talk about a rude interruption!) This request will require me to do the very things I've been taking a break from. And, then, once I start thinking and talking about the science readings, who knows, I might then start working on a lesson plan for my main placement. And where will that lead? In short, my "mind break" will be over and done with. Of course I could blog about the science readings and do my lesson plan after we're back to our normal routine, but won't I miss an opportunity to get "caught up" while I have the chance? Hmm....