At FLMS

At the end of last school year I was miserable.  I was not enjoying my job.  In fact, I was failing at my job.  People would kindly (though possibly insincerely) tell me it wasn't me it was the kids, it was the parents, it was the tests, it was the environment, etc.  That didn't change the fact that several years in a row I was not effective (no matter how hard I tried).  Test results would come and I'd go into the bathroom and cry.  No doubt I worked hard, but it didn't work.  

So I sought help.  I contacted old professors.  I talked to local professionals. I read articles.  And I still didn't feel good.  I felt like I had wasted my scholarship on a career I would never be good at or enjoy again.  

Then one night I helped my brother with math.  For six hours straight.  And he was able to graduate high school on time in no small part because of that.  The weirdest part was I mostly enjoyed it (even though my brother and I don't get along very well).  

I decided to give it one more college try.  I'd get certified to teach math and find myself a job.  I'd leave the school where I loved the people, but couldn't succeed for somewhere new.  Getting certified was easy.  I'm a good tester and love math.  Harder was finding a job.  My county made it extremely difficult to get a transfer.  Then came a call for a school I'd never heard of in a county I wasn't that interested in. 

When I got there my heart dropped a little (I'm ashamed to admit).  Another mostly broken down old building.  I don't know why I have the tendency to judge a school by its cover, but I do.  I interviewed and felt pretty confident that I'd get the job.  After a few more tangles with my previous job there it was.  A job offer.  My last hope.

This is my classroom before I actually had stuff on the bulletin boards. 

And I LOVE it.  I love these kids more than perhaps any other class. (I don't know, my first class was very special).  I'm concerned about their personal worries.  I want to know what little (and big - see previous post) things are troubling them and potentially keeping them from achieving.  I feel so sad when they don't succeed.  During the weekends I think about them and hope they're happy, warm, and fed.  I'm a little worried about Christmas break because of my time away.  And I have passion for my subject! I get excited to teach things and I'm seeing eyes light up and it's wonderful.  

And some stuff still sucks like data meetings and state tests and dealing with seemingly stupid requirements from VDOE.  And my job is hard.  It's hard and tiring every single day.  But I didn't fail.  I didn't waste my scholarship.  This is not the end of my life as a teacher.  And perhaps for the first time in a VERY long time I feel like it's actually the beginning.