Week one of teaching is in the books. A lot happened. Here are the stories I want to remember most.
1. Let's start at the end. After students had left for the weekend, I spent my Friday afternoon organizing student's folders, responding to emails, calling parents, and grading papers. I was hungry. And tired. And my legs hurt. Finally, at six, I left my room, barely able to carry my bike down the stairs. As I came down, I noticed three students playing basketball on the school's new outdoor hoop. Despite my fatigue, I couldn't resist. I wheeled my bike toward them, asking them if they wanted to play twos. I always enjoy surprising people with my deftness on the basketball court, but I've never enjoyed it more than that Friday. After taking a couple dribbles, I could feel a novel respect. Before I was just another teacher, but on the court, I was suddenly just like them. After two quick (but close) wins, I had to call it on account of hunger and exhaustion. As I prepared to leave, one student yelled to me, "Hey what are you doing this weekend? Got a girlfriend?" They laughed and laughed as I rode away.
2. Tuesday was my first day of school. On that day, before I'd seen a single student, I felt an intense, jittery anticipation. At five minutes before school was to start, I was assigned to the side entrance of the school. I was supposed to hold the door open as students entered the building, marking the beginning of a new year. I tried to walk confidently to this side door when the time came, but inside I was nothing but nerves. I stood before the door, my eye on the handle that I would use to usher in a new phase of my life. Blood pounded in my temple. My pulse raced. I pushed the handle and opened the door that separated me from...not a single student. They had all used the main entrance. Most melodramatic moment of my life.
3. On the third day of school, a student was being disruptive, speaking over me and classmates constantly. I sent her to the hall. When I went out to speak with her, her arm was thrust firmly, proudly in the air. You don't have to raise your hand, I told her, because we're having a conversation. She kept her arm poised straight above her head, palm open, as if she had the answer to my most difficult question. You told me to raise my hand when I have something to say, she said, and I always have something to say. She returned to the class and kept that hand in the air for the last thirty minutes of class, and her shoulder muscles are probably still sore.
4. It's five o'clock on a Saturday. I had hoped to plan at least two lessons by the end of today. I have planned none. And I'm writing this.
5. I gave a seven-question quiz on Friday. The first question read: What is the name of the teacher in this class? The fourth question read: What is one rule in Mr. Londberg's class?
6. A student asked why time goes by so fast on weekends but so slow during school. I said I know the answer, and then proceeded to talk about Einstein and relativity and how when we look at the night sky we're seeing the past. I concluded with Einstein's quote about relativity. This was in my first class, and I ended up talking about it with all of my classes. What does this reveal? Just this: That I didn't have enough planned for that day.
7. I printed out The Red Wheelbarrow and shared it with students. I told them that if they discovered the trick to the poem, they wouldn't have to take next Friday's quiz. I know that such incredible incentive spurred it, but the enthusiasm and dare I say ferocity with which they studied that poem nearly brought me to tears.
8. I mispronounced about one-third of my students names on the first day. I was laughed at each time, and with more enthusiasm as I went.
9. I had a dream about teaching on the third night. I woke up and pleaded with my mind to never do that shit again to me. The next night, I had my second dream about teaching.
1. Let's start at the end. After students had left for the weekend, I spent my Friday afternoon organizing student's folders, responding to emails, calling parents, and grading papers. I was hungry. And tired. And my legs hurt. Finally, at six, I left my room, barely able to carry my bike down the stairs. As I came down, I noticed three students playing basketball on the school's new outdoor hoop. Despite my fatigue, I couldn't resist. I wheeled my bike toward them, asking them if they wanted to play twos. I always enjoy surprising people with my deftness on the basketball court, but I've never enjoyed it more than that Friday. After taking a couple dribbles, I could feel a novel respect. Before I was just another teacher, but on the court, I was suddenly just like them. After two quick (but close) wins, I had to call it on account of hunger and exhaustion. As I prepared to leave, one student yelled to me, "Hey what are you doing this weekend? Got a girlfriend?" They laughed and laughed as I rode away.
2. Tuesday was my first day of school. On that day, before I'd seen a single student, I felt an intense, jittery anticipation. At five minutes before school was to start, I was assigned to the side entrance of the school. I was supposed to hold the door open as students entered the building, marking the beginning of a new year. I tried to walk confidently to this side door when the time came, but inside I was nothing but nerves. I stood before the door, my eye on the handle that I would use to usher in a new phase of my life. Blood pounded in my temple. My pulse raced. I pushed the handle and opened the door that separated me from...not a single student. They had all used the main entrance. Most melodramatic moment of my life.
3. On the third day of school, a student was being disruptive, speaking over me and classmates constantly. I sent her to the hall. When I went out to speak with her, her arm was thrust firmly, proudly in the air. You don't have to raise your hand, I told her, because we're having a conversation. She kept her arm poised straight above her head, palm open, as if she had the answer to my most difficult question. You told me to raise my hand when I have something to say, she said, and I always have something to say. She returned to the class and kept that hand in the air for the last thirty minutes of class, and her shoulder muscles are probably still sore.
4. It's five o'clock on a Saturday. I had hoped to plan at least two lessons by the end of today. I have planned none. And I'm writing this.
5. I gave a seven-question quiz on Friday. The first question read: What is the name of the teacher in this class? The fourth question read: What is one rule in Mr. Londberg's class?
6. A student asked why time goes by so fast on weekends but so slow during school. I said I know the answer, and then proceeded to talk about Einstein and relativity and how when we look at the night sky we're seeing the past. I concluded with Einstein's quote about relativity. This was in my first class, and I ended up talking about it with all of my classes. What does this reveal? Just this: That I didn't have enough planned for that day.
7. I printed out The Red Wheelbarrow and shared it with students. I told them that if they discovered the trick to the poem, they wouldn't have to take next Friday's quiz. I know that such incredible incentive spurred it, but the enthusiasm and dare I say ferocity with which they studied that poem nearly brought me to tears.
8. I mispronounced about one-third of my students names on the first day. I was laughed at each time, and with more enthusiasm as I went.
9. I had a dream about teaching on the third night. I woke up and pleaded with my mind to never do that shit again to me. The next night, I had my second dream about teaching.