Lately, I've been feeling like the Worst Teacher Ever. Partly because it's the end of the school year and I'm burned out. Partly because my desk is a mess. Partly because I only managed to accomplish a handful of the "brilliant" ideas I had for units and activities early in the year (because a girl has to sleep, even if it's only for three or four hours a night). And partly because of projects like this:
This is a Government Cake, the project of a 7th-grader whose Social Studies teacher's classroom is next door to mine. Every year, he assigns the students to bake a cake that represents the U.S. Government. He is a genius.
On two days in May, his students came into school with layer cakes designed to represent the three branches of the goverment. They decorated with M&Ms and Hershey's Kisses to stand for the Amendments to the Constitution. They blended chocolate and vanilla, and explained that this was to show Federalism (the division of power between the state and national governments, a fact I learned during one of the cake presentations).
All I can say is, if my 9th-grade Government teacher had assigned projects like this, rather than showing us taped episodes of Degrassi Junior High (which, to be fair, was one of my favorite memories of 9th-grade), I probably wouldn't be relying on a bunch of 7th-grade girls to explain checks and balances to me.
As I began to look around, I realized that all the teachers I work with are equally brilliant. The 6th-grade Drama teacher not only had her students perform scenes for a rotating audience, but also had them sit as a panel to "talk back" to the audience, who asked a series of unpredictable questions. The performers were eloquent and confident in their answers, a tribute to the preparation they received from their teacher. The Science teacher has them making and testing their own shampoo and body lotion as a science project. Rather than having them write a stiff and probably-plagiarized report about the countries of Europe, the 6th-grade Social Studies teacher had his students create children's books as a culmination to their research.
As a teacher, it's exciting to work with people whose ideas are as inspired and creative and well-prepared as these. But at the same time, it's a bit intimidating. They make me feel unorganized and ineffective, and leave me to wonder if I'm making as big an impact as I think they are. You enter the school year filled with plans for amazing projects and mind-blowing units, but then you get into the brass tacks of answering a thousand questions a day (from "What was our homework?' to "Who invented chocolate chip cookies?") and organizing paperwork, and keeping track of 80 different humans, and your brain is too shot to read a book on the subway ride home, let alone spend three hours in front of the computer writing out detailed lesson plans or scouring the Internet for poems containing symbolism that a 6th-grader can pick up on.
This is not to say I haven't done anything I'm proud of. This year I had students write business letters, most of which received responses. I staged a weekly Open Mic that was filled with their poems and dramatic readings. A lot of kids in my class discovered this year that yes, in fact, they do love to read. And I introduced my Advisory to Gooey Butter Cake, which is a life-changing dessert that they will obsess about for years to come.
Still, as the last day of school nears, I find it difficult not to look around and say, "NEXT year, I'm going to do things so much better." And with some things, I probably will. With others, I'll probably find myself thinking the same thing I am right now. The important thing, I think, is to keep looking for ways to improve. To not relax into "good enough." To take the things that worked and do them again. To take the things that were lame, and make them interesting. Maybe by the time I'm ready to retire, I'll have put all my ideas into action. I have roughly 30 years. That seems about right.
