Teacher's hands

Monday, June 18th—my first day as a teacher. It didn’t feel much like teaching because we started by giving them a test. We call it a diagnostic, and it doesn’t count for a grade. It actually includes all the material that we’ll be teaching this summer, so it’s supposed to gauge where the students are in the process. Math builds on itself wonderfully, so once we know what they know, we can figure out where to go from there.

My students!

I have 4 students. One came a few days late for a good reason, but she will have some catching up to do. Another one is very smart, but she doesn’t think so. We’ll have to work on her confidence. Her friend doesn’t seem to be that invested, but that’s what I’m here to help. My last student, bless him, is behind the others. He has so much on his plate without adding math homework to it. He pays attention, though.

The coolest thing I have discovered about the actual work of being a teacher is getting teacher’s hands. I use the overhead projector to deliver my lessons. Thus, I have to clean off my projector and transparencies of the various colors of pens I use. I always used to think the ink on my teachers’ hands was odd and a little gross. Now I realize not only that it is inevitable, but that it represents so much of who teachers are: the teacher’s hands hold the future of these children—their learning, their hope, their inspiration. I am proud of my teacher’s hands.

First week of teaching down; three to go. Actually, it’s closer to 148 weeks, including the future 2 years I’m facing. I’ve gotten some great ideas from other math teachers here. They made a specific effort to put together some of the games and tools they use successfully in their own classrooms. I’m running on little sleep (5 hours at the most per night), and I’m still having to write lots of coherent lesson plans. Then I get to shake myself awake the next morning, give my lesson and pretend to be energetic. Uff. How do people keep this up?

Answer: the weekends.