I have never cried in front of my students. However, in my first years of teaching, there were times when I felt completely out of my element and had to keep my resolve and try by best to pull through.
I’ve just read a brilliant piece by Caitlin Hannon, a first year teacher, whose introduction to teaching reduced her to tears. And who can blame her?
I broke a cardinal rule of teaching several times last year: I cried in front of my students.
Sometimes it happened out of frustration. Just as often, I was overcome during very honest conversations about the struggles my students face within and beyond the school building. At least twice the tears were brought on by uncontrollable laughter at a student’s joke.
As a first-year teacher, I figured tears (of some kind) were inevitable.
I knew I wanted to make a difference, and I thought that difference needed to start in the classroom — not in an office as a policymaker, with little or no connection to, and understanding of, what happens inside schools.
This desire, and my nontraditional education background, led me to Teach For America, a program that trains recent college graduates from various backgrounds to teach in public schools. I spent my first year teaching English at Tech High School, which served a predominantly low-income, minority population. This year, I am teaching seventh-grade language arts at Emma Donnan Middle School.
By the end of that first year, I realized that the life I’d changed the most was my own.
Who is prepared to read a child’s disclosure of abuse in a journal entry?
Who is an expert at helping a student handle the loss of several close family members in a bout of gang violence over the weekend?
I experienced both of these scenarios and more during my first year, and it’s hard to imagine a traditional route to the classroom making it any easier to deal with such heartbreak.
Above is just an excerpt of the article. I encourage you to read the entire piece. It strengthens my long-held position, that teachers are not fully prepared for the rigours of a classroom due to the failings of the teacher training programs. I also feel that new teachers are left to their own devices when they really need a non-judgemental mentor to help show them the ropes and counsel them through the tough times.
Ms. Hannon may not have had her last cry at school, but her passion and teaching philosophy suggests that she is going to have a great future. Her students are going to be the great beneficiaries of her blood, sweat and, yes, tears …
Tags: Caitlin Hannon, Education, Emma Donnan Middle School, life, Students, Teach for America, Teacher, Teacher Training, Teacher Welfare, Tech High School, TFA
Topical Teaching 
November 21, 2011 at 12:04 am |
I cried in front of my grade one class a few weeks ago – fail!
November 21, 2011 at 12:07 am |
Don’t beat yourself up over it. We all have our moments. Ultimately, experiences like these make us better teachers in the long run.
November 21, 2011 at 12:20 am |
Our students experience dread misfortunes all the time and we may be overcome emotionally from time to time. But if you fold like that in an inner city school in that violent crack invested environment you’re finished. They will grind you up like raw meat.
November 21, 2011 at 12:23 am |
It’s a shame. Especially because this teacher was crying for her students not because she couldn’t cope with the job.
November 21, 2011 at 7:13 am |
I just read the entire article quoted and suddenly realised that I could have written exactly the same piece with different details, of course. I am at the end of over 40 years in the classroom. Ms Hannon’s article highlighted to me the attitude of the administration towards highly dedicated professionals. There is never an instant in one’s career when one is not under highly judgmental scrutiny. In my last year of full time teaching I was asked to mentor a young beginning teacher. He had problems, like we all did at the beginning of our careers. I discovered that apart from myself, this young man had about 20 other people pecking on him, trying to help him in his work. They were absolutely no help and no use and all their efforts were counter productive. Behind it all was a big stick. I was the only one that went into the classroom with him to observe with a view to identifying ways in which he could be helped. Even the high falutin consultant called in from outside had no hope of teaching this class. They ate him for lunch and his lesson plans collapsed in a heap. One time, when I was in the middle of teaching a successful demonstration lesson for this young teacher, the assistant principal entered the room and started taking notes. At the end of the lesson she remarked that what I was doing was “too simplistic”. This was a grade 7 class of indigenous students many of whom would have been lucky to have literacy and numeracy levels at grade 2. All the efforts of the others who were trying to “help” this teacher were centred on the syllabus; the grade 7 syllabus. Is it any wonder this class was difficult to teach?!
November 21, 2011 at 11:33 pm |
Thanks John for another great contribution. I really feel for that teacher. When I got my first job, it was a 1-yr contract. I was so worried about having my contract extended, I felt I would be judged even more negatively, if I so much as asked another teacher for advice or a clarification.