Confessions

I once came upon a blog titled "The Confessions of a First-Year Teacher."

I found the title so appropriate. This is so humbling a job [as is, I assume, any job] that most of the talk related to it is comprised of confessions.

For example, "I confess, I had no idea what I was doing, but I pretended like I did in front of the kids."

Or, "I confess, I felt like teaching that child a lesson the old-fashioned way!"

Or, here's one I actually thought today:"I confess, my favorite part of the day is reading to the kids, because I don't have to plan anything for it!"

We can say that the unofficial title of this blog is now, "The Confessions of a Student Teacher."

So, I might as well start confessing.

Confession #1: I cried at school this week.
[I'll stop the attitude-infused tone of voice I've been using for this post now, because this is a good story that I want to tell from an unmasked heart.]

So, I started teaching the Oregon Trail this week, among a couple of other things.

Wednesday, I ended the day with a half-hour lesson on pioneers. Try as I might, I could NOT arouse interest in the students; and they were NOT getting what I wanted them to get.

The hard part is this: it wasn't their fault. It was totally mine.

I barely managed not to cry until the kids and my cooperating teacher had left and I was in my car. Then, the tears just burst out. I felt like a failure.

That night, I worked and re-worked the following day's lesson, determined to overcome my failure and redeem the moment. I stayed up late ensuring that I had a well-planned lesson. By the time midnight rolled around, I felt excited to teach it, and I called it a night.

Fast-forward to the next morning: due to the late night, I woke up late and rushed out of the house. I no longer felt the same excitement I had felt the night before. I just felt crummy. I hadn't had breakfast. I hadn't packed a lunch. I hadn't had time with the Lord. And I felt like crying!

"No!" I told myself in the car. "Don't cry!" How could I show up to the school with a splotchy red face? Somehow, I didn't cry. But I did pray. I acknowledged my weakness and inability and asked God for His strength, His grace, His joy.

Once at the school, I mustered a smile to greet my cooperating teacher with but then escaped the classroom as soon as I could. I was still ashamed of my performance the day before. I just didn't want to talk to him about it.

So I headed over to the neighbor teacher's classroom. I often do this. She is a kind woman who has welcomed me and dropped by several times just to share some Oregon Trail resources with me.

"Are you having fun?" She asked me.

"Yeah." I said.

I must have sounded unconvincing, because she just smiled and kept looking at me.

"Well," I said, "it's both/and."

Oh, boy, why did I have to say that? I already felt the tears welling up.

But she nodded, expressed her understanding, then proceeded to give me just the words of encouragement I didn't know I needed.

"You know, you really are a great teacher candidate. You are! I've seen you. You're steady and consistent, and the kids just love you, and...what's going on, honey?"

Against my will, the tears had come.

She just hugged me, gave me a tissue, talked teacher-stuff until the tears stopped, and sent me on my way with more resources for the Oregon Trail.

Bless her heart! God used her to give me just the encouragement I needed.

The rest of the day, I saw God's strength, God's grace, and God's joy at work in me.

I was able to talk about the failure lesson with my cooperating teacher, and he offered some valuable advice. We also had a good conversation about the importance of relationships to the teacher-student equation.

My lesson for the day didn't go perfectly, but it was much better.

And, this time, I ended the day laughing.

Praise God! He is faithful to pull us through. He will never give us more than we can bear. His joy is our strength.

Confession #2: As hard as it is, I'm loving this.
Enjoy some photos from this week's activities.