Firsts

Today I had to get real with my students. I’m talking about REAL, real, REAL. Following me? Let me start at the beginning – the VERY beginning.

The first day of school fell on a Thursday. I was ultra aware of how nice it was to start out with a two day week. Students are on their best behavior, they are exited to see each other, and, if you’re a ninth grade English teacher, the students are scared to death, quite frankly.

“Hello, I’m Ms. Putorek. Welcome to 9^th grade English. Before I even tell you about myself, there are some serious norms we need to set for the rest of the year.”

My classes were pretty wide-eyed those first two days. I actually only got asked my age twice. TWICE. I was thrilled. I was asked if I was married a couple times, but for the most part, they all just seemed interested and intrigued. I imagine their minds were working as though they were trackers – you know, like night-vision goggle trackers in Sci Fi movies? I was the moving target that their brains were trying to make sense of.

-NEW

-YOUNG

-DID SHE JUST SAY “CHILL?”

-TEST HER? DARN IT. SHE CAUGHT ME.

-HAWK EYES

Etc., Etc.

Now it is Wednesday of the second “week” of school, and boy does it feel like a hump day. More like a mountain day, honestly. I have been testing them for two days straight, and here’s what they don’t tell you in high school. Teachers hate testing more than students hate testing. No, I’m not lying. It’s honestly the worst. It’s tedious, boring, and exhausting.

We went to an assembly today. When I was in High School, assemblies drove me nuts for the exact same reason that the assembly today made my blood boil. DISRESPECT. It goes beyond annoyance for me. To me, talking when a presenter – of any kind- is speaking is unfathomable. And then I looked around and starting listing out MY students that were being rude. The list was too long. And I was even more distressed to see that my Honors students, athletes, and natural leaders were all in the middle of the nonsense.

Those kids were probably very concerned that my face would never smile again.

I want them to know that I already think so highly of them. They are capable, energetic, and overall, very kind. They just needed a huge reality check…and consistency when it comes to holding them accountable. When some teachers enforce the high expectations, not much gets accomplished. When the entire school holds kids accountable for their actions, there is change. I had a serious talk with my last class of the day, and the other classes are getting “the disrespect talk” tomorrow.

I don’t say this as though I am some Guru, know-it-all teacher, but rather to say teaching is already the most profound, entertaining, draining, and emotional thing I have EVER tried. I am constantly reflecting, – “could that be better?” “Is that a rigorous question?” “Was I too mean?” – and it is emotionally draining.

Another emotional downfall of this career is the absolute influence you have on the students you serve. I have already had several instances where my heart felt as though it was breaking into a million pieces. One boy got the nerve to tell me that his “family is kinda going through this money thing right n….”

“Say no more. Here is your composition notebook. No big deal.”

I wanted to tell him he owed me no explanation. He owed me no apology. And yet, he wanted to do both, and that breaks my heart.

I was talking to my mom on the phone the other night and we were talking about…well… everything. I told her that I can’t imagine teaching for 60 years, and I think she got concerned.

“What, you’re already tired of it?” she joked.

I reassured her that teaching is still what I want to do. **(As you read this, mother, just know I won’t have time to edit the post, as I am busy trying to educate my students. The English teacher who doesn’t have time to edit her blog – that should be some kind of sick joke).

What I mean by not imagining myself in the classroom for 60 years is that it takes an immense amount of energy to teach. (All of you teachers out there are nodding your head and grinning, so I hope you understand the next thing I’ll say, too). Another thing teaching takes is a healthy amount of naiveté and dreaming. People tell me I’m too unrealistic when I set lofty goals and high expectations for my students. “She’ll learn after her first couple of years,” the veteran teachers all cluck to each other when they think us “newbies” can’t hear them. (By the way, I literally LOVE every teacher at my school. I cannot imagine working amongst finer teachers in the whole world). I wish everyone had a little bit more of my unrealistic-ness. (Oh no, I’m making up words now)! I wish that the education system of this country had a fat, heaping, steaming dose of fiction – or whatever people want to call the expectations and goals my students are totally capable of achieving.

And, hey. Maybe this is one of those posts that I look back on and laugh at some day, but if I could write a letter to my future self, here’s what it would read:

“Ms. Putorek, (future me),

I hope that every day you wake up and look in the mirror and remember every child who made your life better just by being in it. Remember Violet, and Kelsey, and Happy, and Hannah, and Travis, and ALL OF THEM. Remember what they believed before someone taught them how to doubt. Remember that they had no choice involving their circumstances in life – they just got handed a deck of cards. Their cards are piled in all sorts of ways, and sometimes, it seems, their deck is stacked with more obstacles than most. Don’t pity them; encourage and support them. Drink a red bull, strap on your “tool belt” of books and love and pencils, and don’t let anyone EVER tell you “they can’t do it.” Don’t doubt yourself, but most importantly, don’t doubt them.

Good luck,

Younger Me. ”