Close to five years
ago (when I graduated from high school) I decided to name the Facebook album
that had all my senior year photos in it "The Beginning in the End."
Granted, I didn't come up with this name myself, but I was inspired by an
episode of Bones and thought it was apropos because
graduation from high school was an end, but there really was a beginning of my
college years and the rest of my life in this end. That brings us to right now,
years later, as my college days are pretty much done.
It's been seven
days since I stepped out of the classrooms I student taught in. The Calvin
semester will end in four days. It hurts to be leaving classes and students I
grew to love over the last semester. To leave a place I've called home for the
past four and a half years also hurts. But the purpose of this place was not to
give me a place to call forever my home, though some part of me will always
regard Calvin College as a home of sorts; its purpose was to equip me to think deeply, to act justly, and to live wholeheartedly as Christ’s
agent of renewal in the world. Yes, I did take that straight from Calvin's
mission statement, but that is exactly what my time at Calvin did. And I got
the first step of putting that into practice during my last semester, my
semester of student teaching.
This semester
was a beginning. It was also an end. It was the end (of my time at Calvin and
of my time as a student), but it was the beginning (of my teaching career).
Hence, the end in the beginning. It's hard for me to reflect on something that
just occurred, but I will say I was overwhelmingly blessed and challenged this
semester. And overall, that's a perfect combination.
I was first
of all blessed with not one, but two absolutely amazing mentor teachers. I
mean, not only were these folks master teachers, but they were also caring and
compassionate human beings and funny as all get out. I got to have two mentor
teachers because I was in both a chemistry and an English classroom over the
semester. The lover of the liberal arts in me adored this. The two classrooms
themselves were very different— one
lined with lab tables, bunsen burners, and other lab supplies; one lined with
bookshelves filled with a thousand book and various humorous and/ or snarky
quotes about reading, writing, and the human experience. Some days it was the
chemistry room that brought me joy, other days it was the English room, but
more than that, it was the people that these rooms contained.
When people ask
"What do you teach?" my first instinct is always to say
"Students," though I know that's not the answer they're looking for.
Teaching chemistry is great; teaching English is also great, but would there be
a reason to teach if it wasn't for the students? No, there wouldn't be. My
students were overall the greatest blessing of the semester. I had both
sophomores and seniors (and it was so interesting to see the difference in
phase of life between the two). Some students probably didn't understand why I'd
want to pay to be at school and to teach them every day, but just like the
other teachers I encountered told me, the sacrifices made for the students were
worth it and will continue to be in the future. All these
fifteen-to-nineteen-year-olds were a source of joy day in and day out. I will
admit they were a source of strife sometimes as well, but overall, they brought
joy whether they intended to or not.
I don't think I
have an answer for the ever-present question of "What was your favorite part
of the semester?" My favorite parts were every moment where my classes
laughed with me (or occasionally at me, probably for good reason), indulged me
in answering one of my absurd attendance questions, finally grasped a
concept, revised a paper (and revised it well!), asked for a book
recommendation, or readily participated in what I had planned for the day. Or
every lunch where I got to see more and more the nitty-gritty sometimes amazing
and sometimes awful details of being in the teaching world for 10, 20, 30, or
even 40 years. Or every time my mentor teachers offered to run to the copy
center for me. Or every time I ran to the copy center for them. All of the
mundane occurrences that built up to leave me last Friday looking at the
school as I drove away and feeling a sense of accomplishment and of
sadness. I'm proud of what I did this semester, and I'm sad to have to leave.
Just as Robert Frost so sagely penned, "Nothing gold can stay."
Not everything
this semester was gold, unfortunately. One of my mentor teachers stopped me one
day and said something like, "I'm sorry you've gotten such a difficult
semester to student teach in." I just looked back with a puzzled look, and
asked "What do you mean?" He responded, "You know, with the
election and all of this talk of the pension cuts and such. It puts a lot of
the teachers on edge; I promise most semester's talk at lunch is not so
negative." Before that moment, it hadn't really registered that these past
couple months had been so hard on people, especially those in the realm of
public education. Until that point, I had only noticed how great it was
for the teachers to have each other for support, even when they were all
despairing about the future of the country or the future of public education.
These negativities, while wearing, struck me only as a collective form of
expressing grief, not as excessive complaining.
It
was so helpful for me as well to have this place of expressing grief.
The day after the election was especially hard. As most workplaces, or
gatherings of people in general, there were people both relieved and distraught
at the results and I know tensions were high. This tension filtered down into those
even too young to vote. There were incidents of bullying that occurred based on
the hateful rhetoric we saw this election season and those really hurt to see. It's one thing to disagree with my political views, or to insult me personally (I can handle myself), but when you hurt my students based on their skin color, or gender, or sexual orientation, or country of origin, or anything really, it cuts me to the core and makes me angry. I wanted to say, "We will not stand for this racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, etc. We will continue to fight for justice despite our President-elect's seeming disregard for it." But I couldn't because teachers are supposed to remain neutral in the classroom in terms of political matters. I wanted to say, "Regardless of what you think of the results, we know where our true sense of peace and security comes from. We rely on our Prince of Peace. May Christ have mercy on us all." But I couldn't because I was in a public school environment. And being in a public school setting was good for me, but different than what I was used to. Instead of saying these things, all I could come up with to tell my classes was "Have courage and be kind (and yes, I did quote that from the new Disney Cinderella movie)."
So overall, this semester was the end in the beginning of my teaching career. It was full of many exquisite things and some very difficult ones. It confirmed even farther my calling to teach and made me feel qualified to teach both chemistry and English. Coming out of this experience, I've also been asked if I now know what kind of setting I'd like to teach in. I've had wonderful experiences in private, Christian schools and I've now had wonderful experiences in a public school as well. I'm open to pretty much wherever the Spirit leads. For now, there's not much else for me to do besides be thankful. I'm thankful for student teaching. I'm thankful for lesson planning every night. For my mentor teachers and their constant support and mentoring. For my professor and her gentle ways and helpful feedback. For my students, their wit, and their personalities. And for everyone who has helped me get this far. Thank you, friends, family, loved-ones, colleagues, teachers, professors, etc. from the bottom of my heart. I'll keep you all posted in where life leads me.
