I need to correct somewhere between 40-75 persuasive paragraphs. I need to go through three times seventy-five sheets to collect data for the First Nations unit I have begun. I feel little to no credibility teaching this subject, even though I feel a very strong desire to be credible.
I would like to blame the university for my lack of credibility. This internship has caused me to question what I have been doing for the past three years. Have I learned? Yes. Have I learned how to be a teacher? No. Have I learned how to use the curriculum? No. Internship is about putting a student who will either view herself as credible or not credible (both are dangerous positions) in front of budding, breaking, atheist, sensitive, spiritual, self-minded, individualistic, questioning, obeying minds who may not even know English as their first language, to give little to not help in planning (here is the curriculum -- now DO IT!), with expectations of not only trying to simply teach, plan, and mark, but also to reflect, and improve, and -- on top of that -- to involve yourself in as many extra-curricular activities as possible in order to get your name out there, because, after all, the school system is political, and if you want a job, you need to do much more than simply teach.
I have stopped eating meals because I need to work through them. Other interns tell me they feel they are "not doing enough," that they are "bored," that they are "thriving," that they are "doing very well." Am I doing very well? I don't know. Are the students learning anything?
Last night, in the car, I put on some music. Daniel was driving. I put on some new music (Alt-J, a student recommended it). My head absorbed the harmonies and I actually exclaimed how lovely it was to be listening to this. This expression. This blending of instruments and voices, this creativity. (I didn't say all that.) After sleeping in (till 9:30, and I felt guilty about that, even though I needed much more), I tutored some kids for an hour and a half, and came back to a disaster of a home. When I am stressed and busy, I like to pride myself in not showing it externally. I just start skipping meals, feeling more sleepy, and stop cleaning the home.
I love the students. I honestly do. I think about them, all the time. A student of mine stayed after school with me for almost 2 hours, just because she wanted to talk. Other times, after school, kids come into my classroom and just talk to me. I care about them.
I just want a day where I can lay on the couch with my husband.
Where I can go grocery shopping and not be thinking about what planning I'm not doing.
I want to browse a few stores. I'd like to run errands.
I'd like to feel as though I could even consider hanging out with a friend.
I began nervous, then I realized that I'm in the perfect career, and now, with this business causing such claustrophobia and moments where I will literally start sweating thinking that I need to figure this out, I question. I've envied the students, I've been annoyed at the students, I've though that this is not the career for me if I cannot even take a breath without knowing that I am behind.
It will get easier, they all say.
For now I will damage my hearing and possibly the speakers and clear out the clutter with harmonies. Then, two minutes later, I will get back to that which is my life: eat, drink, sleep, correct, plan.
This won't happen to you but when I started teaching (junior high in rural Alberta) my hair started falling out, I noticed. I also noticed that at parties I'd start talking about teaching work and I couldn't say anything casually--it all seemed so loaded. It's a tough job, that's all. (Oops, I said "touch job" at first, which of course it isn't.) An important one. We need good teachers, which you'll be, I don't doubt.
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