Though there is still a bit over a week left in 2018, the teaching year is officially done and dusted. This year has been a wild ride made up of deep troughs and steep peaks and I think I am becoming more deft in navigating both. While I know that I have much still to learn, I have grown so much more in this last year than I thought was possible. Much of this is thanks to my faculty: a collection of intelligent, strong-willed and hilarious women whom are so well-loved by the kids we teach. I have also learnt a lot from my family, friends and my lovely bloke, who have had to endure a whole heap of shit as I’ve stumbled my way through the year. The bulk of what I have learnt, however, has come from the kids I teach: a gaggle of intelligent, hilarious, lovely, ridiculous and occasionally cantankerous weirdos.
I’ve loved this year. I’ve hated this year. I’m changed because of this year.
“She gets PAID to do this!”
Picture it: it’s February, the hottest part of the year, it’s last period on a Friday afternoon and I have Year 7 for the first time ever and it’s… pandemonium. All we had covered in the lesson was our expectations for the year and they’d listed all the things you would expect (listen while others are speaking, come to class prepared, always do your best, etc.) and then, as if to demonstrate that they appreciated irony, they yelled and screamed and carried on like a pack of banshees. I stood there, feeling defeated before I’d even had the chance to begin when suddenly a very conscientious little girl piped up with “STOP IT! She’s trying to TEACH US!” The reply was raucous: “It’s fine. She gets PAID to do this!” I realised with shock for the first time that this was my circus, these were my monkeys and, yeah, I was paid to do this.
Of all my classes this year, Year 7 taught me the most. From them I have discovered that I am nowhere near as patient as I had first estimated and I yell a fair bit more than I would like. They have also taught me that someone (or a group of someone’s) can drive you up the bloody wall and yet you will be ready and willing to do it all over again the next day. There were very few times where I found myself wishing that I didn’t have to see Year 7 and although they didn’t believe me when I told them, I’m gutted not to be teaching them next year.
“Hey Taylor, do you want to do [insert any labour intensive/time consuming job you can think of]?” “Yeah! Sounds mad!”
I’m a Yes man; there’s really not much that I’ll turn down if asked to do it. In many ways this has been a wonderful quality to have in the first year: I’ve attended Year 7 camp, conducted entry interviews for our incoming class of 2024, ran Orientation activities and attended a number of professional learning opportunities both in and out of school. In other ways, saying “yes” to anything that comes my way has been my greatest curse. Taking on swim school in the same week I was scheduled to do an intensive spot of professional learning and taking on homework club BOTH Friday afternoons in a cycle were among the sillier choices I have made this year – that being said, if I were to start the year again, I think I would do it very much the same.
As silly as it is to say, being the Yes man has helped me to stand out, and to get to know people outside of my immediate circle. It has taught me that, while people appreciate the things that you will do for them, sometimes you have to draw a line and remember that you are a person with shit that needs doing too. By assisting others I have gotten better at recognising when I need help and though I am not quite to the point where I will actively seek it, I am generally happy to accept it when it is offered. In 2019 I am sure I will continue to say yes to anything and everything while my faculty teases me relentlessly, I am okay with this.
“What’s today’s fact, Catherine?”
This year I have been very thankful for the 7am crew, a collection of beautiful weirdos who get to work at 7am and set discuss the things that happened in the morning which would determine what kind of day we were going to have. Did Jo and I see Cutlet (a pug) or Bruce (a St Bernard) walking whilst we drove to work? Was the fact in Catherine’s ‘OMG Facts’ calendar deemed a ‘good one’? Did Sarah have enough peanut butter to make her breakfast? Did we receive a daysheet that didn’t have our names on it? If the answer to all of the above was ‘yes’ it was going to be a good day. If the answer was no, it was dubious to say the least.
Regardless of whether or not the day was destined to be shit, however, the crew have made work fun. They’ve become true friends and I genuinely love them. It’s the silly little things, like the ‘OMG Facts’ calendar and the puppies we see on our way to work that make me so happy to have found my people. This year I have been able to fully embrace what it means to be a nerd because all the people I work with are also huge nerds.
My hope for everyone beginning their first year of teaching is that, above all else, you end up in a faculty that makes you feel supported and cared for. Not only are my workmates my friends, they are mentors and (sappy though it is to say) family. These people have seen me at both my best and my worst and I’m looking forward to doing it all over again next year.
2018 has been a massive year. It’s so far removed from everything I was told to expect when I was at university and I’m reminded of sitting in my staffroom in tears way back in term one. My head teacher sat me down and said to me that studying education at university was a little bit like being given a concrete slab and being told “There’s your house!” This analogy has stuck with me ever since. I still don’t think I’ve built my house, hell, I don’t even know if I’ve built the whole frame just yet but I’m chipping away at it bit by bit.
What I know is this: every day I learn something new from the people that I work with and so admire, and in doing so, I (hopefully) become a better teacher. For now, my whiteboard markers are packed away and I don’t have to write any lessons plans for a little while yet and for that, I am very grateful. It’s time to rest, recharge and get ready to do it all over again.
Until then, be good,
Miss Tracy.
thoughts from the first year 