| By Amelia Weber 
Amelia Weber is vocal director at Platteville High School.
She began her teaching career in September of 2004. | On every classroom wall in America, one will undoubtedly find
the mechanical contraption that takes over our lives from the
moment we say "Good morning, class." Ticking away, it
dictates our every move from the first day to retirement. It may
look innocent, but round or square, an ordinary classroom clock
can prove as daunting to a young educator as teaching during homecoming
week. We are taught that time management is a large part of classroom
management, and that being a good teacher means being one with
the clock. During student teaching, my cooperating teacher encouraged me
to keep careful track of time, and I remember scrawling each rehearsal
time on a sticky note. He instructed me to begin rehearsal right
after the bell and to always allow one minute of cleanup time
before the final bell. In spite of these times never being more
than two feet from my face, I always felt like that clock fooled
me, speeding up or stopping at will. If we were repeating individual
German syllables for a Brahms piece, the clock moved like molasses.
In the midst of an amazing musical moment, the bell, which is
not in tune with a single piece of music on Earth, would ring,
interrupting our magic. Initially, my battle with time was discouraging. I often found
myself completing only part of my rehearsal plan, and playing
"catch-up" during each rehearsal that followed. I felt
I had tried everything: talking faster, looking at the clock more
often, and even frantically skipping ahead in my lesson plans;
all to no avail. The constraint of time was taking the enjoyment
out of my teaching, and I did not know how to regroup. Then one fateful day, the normally functional clock in my classroom
went crazy. It stopped at half past the hour, and did not budge
until the hour, when it would zoom its way through 30 minutes
in a matter of seconds. The choir and I stared with amazement
as the minute hand flew, and we all laughed. From that point on,
my attitude about the use of time in my classroom changed, and
I felt liberated from that insistent clock. After this liberation, I devised what I call a "thirds"
lesson plan, which requires me to prioritize tasks for the time
allotted rather than cramming all of my tasks into a given time.
My daily lesson plan has three sections. The first "third"
consists of a task that has the highest priority, and must be
accomplished in today's lesson. The second "third" is
the next priority, and is what I would expect to accomplish on
an average and productive day. The final "third" is
a high priority for the next lesson but could be completed today
for an extremely productive lesson if there is extra time and
students are on a roll. By using this method, a young teacher can feel accomplishment
every day no matter what time and classroom atmosphere allow.
It also allows a teacher to easily quantify the productivity of
a classroom. Most days are "two thirds" days, a few
are "one third" days, and a few are "three thirds"
days. It is important to remember that accomplishing fewer tasks on
your lesson plan does not necessarily mean less learning in your
classroom! The pressure of time hanging over my head used to prevent
me from listening, observing, and letting the students dictate
the pace of the rehearsal. I now realize that a "one third"
day can result from an intuitive question that sparks discussion,
elaboration, and deep understanding, and is therefore as valuable
as quickly moving through tasks. When my attitude about time became more relaxed, my students
followed suit, and we all stopped letting the clock cause us stress.
I took my new attitude about time even further the summer after
my first year of teaching, and stopped wearing my wristwatch.
I found that I was still very aware of the time, but that I did
not let it govern every activity. With my second year under way, my watch feels a bit strange on
my wrist, but I do not feel trapped by its ticking hands. I learned
that time can trick, trap, and overwhelm young teachers, but we
cannot let it prevent us from taking our time to observe, nurture,
and teach. To this day, the choir room clock continues to stop
at half past and later zoom to the hour. Some of my students say
I should ask a custodian to fix it, but I know that I never will.
I wouldn't have it any other way. For the time being, as the Rolling
Stones so eloquently put it, "Time is on my side - yes it
is!" Return to New Teachers page Posted October 26, 2005 |