End of One, Beginning of Another (part 7)

Frying Pan. Fire.

I heard once, in reference to teaching school, that some men 'lead lives of quiet desperation'. I never really understood this until I started feeling desperate myself. And then it all became terribly, frightfully clear! 

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But I must back up a bit. No one really knows if they will be good at this, so Elementary Education gives budding teachers lots of opportunities to try out their skills upon the Resistant. It began for me as a 'Sophomore Helper' in a first grade class. My, but there were a lot of small people in there. 33 squiggly, noisy, clamorous creatures who did a pretty good job of running things without me.

The teacher of this bunch ran a tight ship, don't get me wrong. But she sort of did it whenever she felt like it; not minute by minute. So they had their moments. When it got terrible she just grabbed her paddle to make an example of someone. Then things would calm down for an hour or two. It was all a mystery to me. What would I use? 

Another experience in a 3rd grade classroom offered a unique approach. The teacher's lectures about behavior were laced with implied threats. She warned them that there was a trap door 'somewhere in this room' that would spring automatically if a naughty student haplessly wandered over it. I was shocked but glanced out at the assemblage, and saw that they believed her. They did not move or peep, for fear of the dread hole beneath.

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In the first grade class, I was to teach a lesson on my own at the end of Term. The teacher would be there but I would teach it while Dr. Strowbridge observed. It was a Science lesson, and began with me lighting a candle as part of the 'anticipatory set' (do those words strike terror within any other teachers out there? I ask you). 

The 33 sat and listened and watched the candle. At a certain point after the candle went out, a student dropped his book. It sounded like a gunshot, and I automatically jumped. To my horror, the class laughed. Then another student wadded up some paper and threw it. More laughter (perhaps now would have been the time for the paddle..). But by now, others were becoming restless, and I realized that we hadn't discussed what to do without a paddle. The clock on the wall stood absolutely still, and I was sure the hour would NEVER, EVER END.

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It finally did end, but I don't think I'll talk about it here. The teacher never once intervened, and later said she thought I needed a 'dose of reality'. 

Dr. Strowbridge walked me to my bicycle. "Well you had a real fine start," he said as he reached for his cigar. He pointed out some positives, and then added, "What does that teacher do when the class gets rowdy?"

I stopped and looked at him.

"I thought I saw a paddle on the wall in there," he said.

"Umm, yes," I replied with some hesitation.

He blew smoke. "In that case, I think you'll find your own methods. From what I saw you do in there, they'll be good ones."

"Thank you, sir," I said as he climbed into his car.

I don't know what he saw me do, but something in his face made me think it would be better than a trap door or a paddle. 

Maybe it was confidence.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dcjohn/74907741/">dcJohn</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/">cc</a>

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnkay/3677014419/">Images by John 'K'</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/">cc</a>

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/number657/7073058725/">number657</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/">cc</a>