I put several plans into action today, to offset the overwhelming helplessness and anxiety that inevitably arrive in an atmosphere of unarticulated expectations.
1. With two hours free this morning (I won’t be teaching first grade until next month), I dedicated myself to figuring out what, exactly, I would teach. I settled on the book. Sure, it’s not inspired, and may even be boring. But it is a change of pace—the kids are tired of me, anyway, I think—and does provide a blueprint for language acquisition. Plus, I suspect the students are responsible for the material anyway. And, of course, it makes lesson-planning pretty easy for me—I think. I haven’t taught out of the book for a long time. I seem to remember that the lessons tend to be short, which will leave us time for the phonics lessons I want to continue. I feel much better having made this decision. It’s a huge burden off my shoulders—I am no longer entirely responsible for the sole English education of 200 students. I have this book and CD now to tell me what to do. As much as I hate a crutch, I do need it—I’m not even trained, for goodness sakes!
2. With lesson planning more or less taken care of, and talk of volleyball drifting through the hallways, I bolted. I literally snuck out of school. I felt bad—I should be making an effort to get to know the other teachers, to spend time with them, to make the most of these few months I have left and to really be a good cultural ambassador—but not bad enough to stay. I already lost both of my other afternoons and evenings this week to horribly tedious meetings, awkward dance-offs with the vice principal, and mounds of roasted garlic (this was supposed to compensate for my lack of meat in our meals). I’m jealous about my free time. I don’t want to spend this entire semester at school—there’s still too much I want to do! And now is the time to establish my boundaries, before I’m expected to work regular hours like all of the other (well-paid) teachers. I think part of it is that most of the people at the school aren’t used to working with someone like me—it’s a given that, as a teacher, I have no choice but to submit to having work-related obligations shoved down my throat. But this is NOT happening. Thus my plan to conveniently disappear outside of classroom hours. Of course, there’s the negative side effect of a dirty classroom—no time to try to curb the destruction that inevitably occurs in the wake of 100 wiggle worms, you see—but I’m okay with that.
It was, actually, a productive day. I’m still dreading the work week—I actually haven’t been able to sleep well since I’ve been back—but hopefully a curriculum vision combined with some relaxing, out-of