Do you ever have those days that are so outrageous you wonder if you’re dreaming?
That was yesterday.
Rachel and I both had our last observation for our University supervisor who works at Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University. Here is how yesterday went down…
I woke up extremely nauseated. I had to make the decision to email my professor and reschedule my observation, or get through it and go home after. I should have rescheduled, but I didn’t. I went through with the observation. The hour before my lesson my stomach was getting progressively worse. I was mad at myself for not rescheduling, but at that point our supervisor was already with Rachel and there was no turning back.
Earlier that morning my mentor teacher had told the students I was not feeling well and that they needed to be on their best behavior. When my supervisor walked in, I took the stage (not really, but it felt like that) and my mentor teacher left the room. As I began to start my “discussion” about the sky at night, I could tell this was going to be a challenging lesson. The students were yelling to each other non-stop and a couple of the most well-behaved students came up to me and asked to use the toilet(restroom). This was especially frustrating because they know not to ask during a lesson, and they had just gone right before so that they would not have a reason to ask. Not a good start. The first 15 minutes of my lesson consisted of every “teacher move” I could think of to get them quiet. I was appalled at their behavior. At one point I was forced to give one of my favorite students a second warning which meant he had to go to the passageway (hallway) as punishment. I could not believe what was happening, but he fought with me about it! He tried to negotiate-"Can I just go sit at my desk or by the wall?"
Since he wasn't listening, it got all the other students wound up. I lost control of the whole class.
They all started yelling at the boy things like...
“You don’t question a teacher.”
“Listen to Mrs. Harney.”
“Go, that is your second warning.”
"Ma'am said leave!"
“Mrs. Harney has a sore tummy.”
“Mrs. Harney has a sore leg.” (What?! That wasn't even true…)
“Mrs. Harney is trying to be a teacher.”
GOOD GRACIOUS! I wanted to cry and yell and laugh. I’m sure my supervisor wondered when I had time to get married in the midst of dealing with this rowdy class! That’s a joke, but I have mentioned in other posts that the children forget that I am a “Ms.” We work on it every day, just as we work on their behavior, but obviously certain things slip their cute little minds.
So, I am sure you are wondering what happened?
At this point I started laughing. I was laughing and fanning myself with the worksheets to keep from crying. I took a few deep breaths and sent the girls to their tables while I tried to get control of the boys. Once everyone was seated I began to give instructions, which apparently meant that everyone should start shouting out and running around the classroom.
I used more “teacher moves” like handing out stickers to the good children, and clapping, and every other management tool I had been taught, but they simply did not work. So then I told them I was getting angry, and I gave them three seconds to sit down. I told them, there is only one of me and 24 of them and I asked them politely to please work nicely and listen.
In response, a student shouted,“No, there are 23 of us, because Jamal isn’t here.”
I ignored him. (So that I wouldn't lose my mind or say something I would regret.) I explained the writing assignment and after I finished, right on cue, half the class came running up asking me to spell words. Some of them even decided it was an appropriate time to hug, squeeze, and hang on me after I had told them to stay seated and raise their hands if they had questions.
I was mortified.
When my supervisor asked to speak with me, he said the lesson was fine and that they were an active bunch.
Basically, he let me off easy. Deep down I was ashamed and frustrated that it looked as if no progress had been made with this class. The perfectionist in me wanted a second chance, because the truth is that I have seen a major improvement in them since my first couple of weeks. You would not have known it from this lesson. I could just feel the judgment from my non-existent UGA professors-“Why couldn’t you manage your class?” "It must be something YOU’RE doing wrong."
But it wasn’t. At the end of the day-kids are kids. They have their good days and their bad days.
Would it have been ideal for them to be angels on the day my supervisor came? Yes. Would it have been nice to see them care about my observation or the fact that I was sick? Absolutely.
But they didn’t. And I love them anyway.
All you can do is laugh.
When you give it your all, and it still does not go as planned, then you have to let it go.
Something this experience has taught me is that it is okay to fail. How else do we learn?
As I am sitting in bed recovering from my stomach virus, I can't help but wonder if this is how God feels about us. Sometimes the things we do and the mistakes we make must be frustrating. He probably wants to chuck a book at us or yell and scream, but he doesn’t. That is not in his character. Instead, he sent his son to die for us so we would not have to live in our mistakes. We get a second chance with him all the time.
If I can get a second chance, then I need to be offering that to others. I’m not saying it is easy. My feelings were definitely hurt yesterday, but I have to remind myself that they are only first graders. They deserve a second chance and a third and a fourth. That is what makes the good days that much sweeter.
You can thank Google for this adorable picture. I hope it brightens your day! Remember to just keep on laughing.
Happy Wednesday!
Love,
Casey
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