Summer 2012: "I'm sorry to inform you that you've been excessed for the school year." Early morning calls are the worst, and this was no exception. I'd go on the open market except I was excessed the day open market ended.
Summer 2007: I moved back to NYC to join the "Teaching Fellows" program. I had no teaching experience, but that didn't matter. I was told that the NYC school system had a "critical shortage" of science teachers, and since I had a science background, I applied.
The teaching fellows training was fun. By fun, I mean it was entertaining and laid-back, and left us completely unprepared for the realities of teaching in an urban classroom. We learned the basics of a "lesson plan," and some important skills like "scaffolding" (still don't know what that is, all these years later), Bloom's taxonomy of questioning, and got a debriefing of some educational and developmental theories. I remember I read about Piaget's stages of development. After the daily training was over, the fellows-in-training would often go to the local bar and drink till the wee hours of the morning.
Summer 2012: I still see the NYC Teaching Fellow ads. I wonder why they are still hiring teaching fellows when there are so many ATR's floating around the system. I realize that I was excessed because of my lack of seniority, but in terms of salary, I am now considerably more expensive than most teaching fellows. I do get some encouraging words: "You might get hired because you're a fairly cheap ATR."
Summer 2007: All teaching fellow trainees were placed in a summer school classroom to observe a senior teacher. I was placed in a large Bronx high school that is now closed. The school looked run-down -- paint was chipping, random doors were broken, and if the school possessed a smart board or projector I never saw it. The rooms had no air conditioners, and the students were miserable. The summer school teacher I observed was very old-school. His tests and worksheets were from decades ago. He wrote voluminous notes on the board. But he had the respect of a very large and impatient group of students. He diffused angry students with a mix of humor and sarcasm. I'm sure if he were observed today they'd say his lesson wasn't differentiated.
Summer 2012: I feel as if I'm a passenger on a train to Nowhereville, and that somewhere along the way, there must have been stops where I could have gotten off the train. I envy all the teaching fellows that got off the train. Some of them got off after a few days, some after a few months, some after a few years, but two out of three fellows get off the train one way or another by the end of the fifth year.
The strange thing was, I had started off the 2011-2012 school year with a definite plan to get off the teaching train. The plan was to teach one semester, and resign the second semester. I was quite frankly miserable for a lot of reasons, and thought I needed a fresh start. But the 2011-2012 school year ended up being by far the best school year I ever had, despite little things like my school being on the list of 24 schools Mayor Bloomberg tried to close. I had great classes with some of the sweetest, smartest kids. My portfolio was filled with good observations. Some days I'd admonish students with a "Don't write on the board!" but saw that the students were writing "We love you, Ms. __." I didn't even consider resigning by the time February rolled around. Why resign when every day was meaningful and happy?
Summer 2007: I went to many interviews after the 6-week training program was over. I was finally hired by a school that had been desperate for a science teacher. On the first day of school, I heard that the last science teacher they hired had also been a teaching fellow, but after a terrible day in February, she quit the next morning. A student had made some crude comments to her and she wanted the student suspended. When the student wasn't suspended, she walked. The principal apparently thought very highly of her and tried several times to contact her, but she cut off all contact with the school, and didn't even bother to return to retrieve her personal belongings. I gulped for a moment when I heard this story, but I was convinced that it couldn't be that bad.
Summer 2012: I flip through the pictures on my phone. I had taken pictures of all the chalky love letters my students had written on the board this year. "Ms. __ is awesome." "You look so pretty Ms. ___." "Happy Valentine's Day Ms. ___!" "Happy birthday, Ms. __!" ""We will miss you, Ms. __!"
Sniffle.
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