So much has happened to me since July that I almost can't process it all. I knew moving to another country, to another culture, and to a new profession would be a huge change for me. I would like to say I took it all in stride, confidently meeting the challenges that befell me.
But that would be a lie.
Instead, I feel incredibly humbled as being a first-year teacher in a new place means facing failure on a daily bases. From remembering the names of all 83 of my students to remembering parts of the lesson plan that I crafted so carefully the week before, I never go a day without thinking "Oh shoot! I forgot..." or at least "I could have directed that lesson so much better if..."
The first year of teaching is always the hardest and is rather difficult to explain to someone who has not gone through it. As my 7th graders are learning about figurative language this week, I will give you a metaphor on what first year teaching is like.
The first year of teaching can be compared using a stapler. Imagine, you are someone who has never used a stapler. You have seen staples holding papers together and have theorized on how they got there but you have never seen or used a stapler. Then one day, someone asks you to go into their desk drawer, find their stapler, and replace the staples.
As someone who knows what a stapler is, and how to use it, I can say I struggle enough trying to replace staples in a new stapler because each can be a little different. Now imagine having no concept of a stapler.
That is a lot what first year teaching is like. You see the end product, the stapled paper (the information the students must learn), but you are rather unsure how it got there. And to make things more complicated, there is only one way to load a stapler, but there are many ways to teach a lesson. What is right for one teacher may be wrong for another. I can not simply follow another's lesson plan or even copy another teacher. I must find what works for me and my class.
Each class is also different, with different personalities and abilities. Different grade levels demand different strategies and I teach three grades.
I don't mean to complain, or in any way say my job is too hard or unfair. It is a challenge, one I knew I was signing up for when I decided to become a teacher. It tests me each day to see just how far I can stretch myself. A common joke we have at the end of the day is that we "have no more words" as if to say we have thought too hard, made too many decisions, and now we can't produce more ideas. It is quite funny if I go out with some of my teacher friends on a work day because we have trouble picking a restaurant as none of us want to make any more decisions. They say teachers make more minute by minute decisions than brain surgeons. My job is constantly testing me.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Boredom is no longer a word in my vocabulary and for that I am grateful. I am nearly never idle. Even at home, while cleaning or cooking I am thinking about how to rearrange my classroom so certain students won't talk to each other. I am thinking about the next day's lesson and how I might present it better or if I need more visual aids. I question the decisions I made that day and how I might do it better next year. To rest is a treat and I saver my holidays like fine chocolate.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
I find I thrive on challenge. It gives me a real sense of accomplishment to know that each day I am doing something I have never done before. Each day is a surprise, a question mark that by the end will often be an exclamation mark.
I may be the teacher, yet I often feel I am the one doing the most learning. I have to be the most creative one, the one with all the answers, the one who can solve all the problems. I fall short, of course, nearly every day. Yet I walk home knowing I can try again tomorrow.
And try I shall because I won't have it any other way.
Bahasa words:
Try: Berusaha
Teach: Mengajar
Tea: Teh
-Rachael
