Teacher Man

The day Frank McCourt died I picked up his memoir about teaching in the New York City public schools. I hoped I'd learn about him and perhaps also learn something about myself...

Frank McCourt, in his enthralling memoir, tells a poignant, raw, and honest story. After reading the first few pages of his book, I realized I would have put it down had I not just went through my first year in the trenches as an urban public high school teacher. His words made sense. His fears, his failures, his successes (albeit rare), his frustrations all hit me so hard. The first words of chapter 1, “Here they come. And I’m not ready. How could I be? I’m a new teacher and learning on the job” (11), brought me immediately back to my first day of teaching.

I was nervous, unbelievably hot, palms sweating with anticipation, fear and exhaustion. When the bell rang at 8 am, it hit me. I was a teacher. But, the problem was, I had no idea how to teach or what to expect or how to handle 160 teenagers, their hormones and emotions raging wild. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind: What was I thinking when I believed I could actually do this? Was I crazy? How will I survive this? What if they are terrible to me? What if I fail? And fail? And fail?

The second my first freshman—eyes wide and nervous—entered the door, tentatively, the questions disappeared and I realized there was going to be no time to be fearful or nervous. If they can tell I’m nervous, I’m done for. So, be confident, excited, firm. Here we go…

McCourt’s first chapter brought me back to my first days teaching. His words ring so true for me. He writes: Professors of education at New York University never lectured on how to handle flying-sandwich situations. They talked about the theories and philosophies of education, about moral and ethical imperatives, about the necessity of dealing with the whole child, the gestalt, if you don’t mind, the child’s felt needs, but never about the critical moments in the classroom. (16)

McCourt’s observation is so true. But, in the educators of teachers’ defense, how can they teach teachers how to deal with these critical moments in the classroom if every teacher, every classroom, every student is so wonderfully different? There is no guidebook to dealing with these unique issues, problems, and obstacles because one cannot possibly know how to deal with them until one has experienced it for oneself.

For weeks, I lay awake at night in my bed fearing how I would deal with certain situations—fights, racist or hateful comments, resistance from students or problems with co-workers—and I realized that Teach For America’s training, although well-intentioned, could never truly prepare me for that. I had no idea who I was in the classroom until I stepped foot into a room of 30 anxious, eager freshmen.

No one taught me how to deal with the fight between two 200 pound sophomores—both with serious behavioral and emotional issues—that nearly broke above my petite 5 foot 2 frame the second day of school. What was I thinking trying to get between Victor and Tyrone as both of them shot steam out of their ears? What if one of them lost it and lashed out powerful punches in the midst of their rage? I was not thinking any of this. My only thought: I will not tolerate this behavior in my classroom.

“Get out! Both of you!” They looked at me, as if thinking, “What is this short white girl going to do to us? She can’t do shit.” Again. “Get out! Victor! Tyrone! Go to the deans. You will not act this way in my classroom.” They left. On their way out I noticed they were laughing.

Were they testing me? Perhaps. Did I fail at handling the situation rationally and calmly? Of course. My heart rate shot up to about 200 beats per minute, my voice became loud, and I probably came off as panicky. But, I got them out of my room. Amid failure there was a glimmer of hope for me.

No teacher training program could have prepared me to deal with the shenanigans of the first few days, weeks, or even months of school. I was on my own to struggle, to fail, to learn. After all, how can anyone teach you how you’d react if a student, like one of McCourt's, threw his bologna sandwich halfway across the room?

For 5 weeks-- and about 19 hours each day-- last summer Teach For America taught me “how to teach”: unit planning by backwards design, lesson planning, scaffolding and differentiating, effective literacy instruction, etc., etc. This was not the teaching I’d need to know how to do just yet. I needed to how to stay afloat, how to remain calm when a student yelled “fuck you I won’t read this shit,” how to deal with making one thousand- no less- decisions every day (each one vastly different, of course).

How could anyone have taught me how to react when Victor and Tyrone went at each others' throats in the back of my classroom that sunny day on the 3rd day of September 2008? I could have pictured myself calmly and confidently walking over to phone the deans, but in reality, I had no idea. You can’t, not until you’re thrown right in.