Now They Are 'My Students'

By Cindy Reitzi

This year, I’m considered a “new teacher,” and so I went through extensive orientation with the Madison school district and with my individual school. A lot of paper, a lot of speeches, and a lot of bureaucracy. Still, the whole process made me feel more prepared. Toto, we’re not in substitute teaching anymore.

This year, somehow, it is the right place, the right time, the right circumstances. Before the first day of school, I felt a mix of apprehension, nervousness, excitement, optimism, and joy. I felt like an earnest Canadian Mountie who wants to do a “good job” mushing into the unknown. I have stood before thousands of strange teenagers and “guest taught.” I have taught long-term and in the summer, but usually not at the beginning of the school year. It’s very different. These are my students. For a whole year. I want to do this right. I want this to work.

I am one of those people prone to what I would call “earnest syndrome.” I take teaching very seriously. I worry about not “cheating” my students of a good education. Great trust is placed in me. Their 9th-grade English education is in my hands. They need to learn to read and write under my watch. I want them to love literature and writing, even if they hated it before. I want them to feel safe, comfortable, and welcome in my class. I am a ridiculous idealist.

Unfortunately, my earnestness in the past made me too serious, and then I didn’t always enjoy the remarkable students I had. This wasn’t good for them or me. I was so hell-bent to teach them the research paper or something else, that sometimes I alienated them. Out of all the experiences I had, that made me feel the worst. This year, as a small promise to myself, I vowed to enjoy my students’ company, to let loose my sense of humor, and to laugh at myself more. Yes, teaching is serious business, but it can also be a great pleasure.

As a new teacher, there’s a lot of nervousness about what to expect and what your school and district will be like. I am familiar with Madison but in a different capacity. Still, if the orientation I went through is any indication, I feel welcome here.

Just as teachers need to show they value their students, school districts and communities need to show they value their teachers. Administra-tors and district representatives were willing to be open about their own experiences in teaching and strongly emphasized that we take care of ourselves physically, spiritually, and emotionally and connect with other teachers and family.
They also exhibited a strong sense of humor, always a good sign. Some advice principals gave for success in teaching included, “make sure your skirt is zipped” and “wash your hands a lot so you don’t get sick.”

When Art Rainwater, our superintendent, spoke to us about his first day in teaching, not only did he emphasize the importance of our union, but his own mishap on his first day. The time he started teaching was pre-union and there were no prep periods for teachers. Like us, he had earnestly prepared his lessons to teach math. On the first day, he enthusiastically presented his very first lesson. Five minutes later, he discovered he had run out of lesson plan and had 55 minutes to go. Not only that, but he had the same plan for six more periods of the day! He has come a long way since then.

The message I got was that we will make mistakes and that we too will develop and evolve as educators over time.

For new teachers and teachers of completely new students, this period of time is mystery until the first day. Even veteran teachers tell me everyone feels a little anxious before school starts. Before that first day, I was nervous, like I had never taught or stood before an audience of teenagers before. Somehow I knew that experience as a sub would help me, and that my instincts would kick in, but still, I didn’t know whom I was teaching.

The day before school started, I was in K-mart and the checker, a student from another school, recognized me. I clicked into chat mode and started joking with him. (“What do you mean you’re not going on the first day because classes are shorter. You’re a senior. You’re supposed to be a role model for the younger children.”) My instincts kicked in. I walked out saying, “I can do this.” But still, I wanted to see my students’ faces and know what was before me.

The first muggy day came in my not-air-conditioned classroom. For the first time, I searched my students’ faces – their wondering, pensive, nervous, bold, guarded, assessing, shy, challenging, bored, and (by 7th hour) wilted faces. Unfamiliar, yet familiar. Then I smiled, and I knew it would be all right. I was in my zone.

Posted October 9, 2001