Teaching is hard. The first year is hard. Everyone tells me this and everyone swears it’s true. Don’t give up, they say, stick with it. The first year is hard.
I’m only subbing, long-term, but so far things were going great. I was confident in my abilities, moving right along, getting things done, and we were doing ok. Then this week hit! I only have ten kids, and a few of them are challenging, but I have enough easy-going ones to balance it out and keep the class going. Not this week. Monday was tough and Tuesday was tougher. Wednesday I made a plan and made some changes. Today I tried again. It was a mess! I found myself apologizing all day to any grownup around, swearing that my class isn’t usually this awful. Even the easy-going ones were falling apart on me, wandering around, making random noises. Trying to gather them for morning meeting was like herding cats, just when you get one to the rug another wanders away. It was chaos. Fortunately it’s only half day! The weather is dreary and drizzly, and there was some talk of indoor recess, but I said no way! Out we went. It wasn’t really raining, maybe just a little moist. They needed it. I needed it!
Now I need a new plan, and apparently some serious work on my classroom management skills. I thought I was doing well, but ugh, maybe not! All day I kept thinking “I’m no good at this, I can’t handle it,” but then the voices of many experienced people filled my head, reminding me that the first year is hard. Even though I’m just the long-term sub, it’s still my first year (or half year, anyway) and it will be hard.
I need a nap.
Holiday season is hard. Kids absorb the stress/energy of their families, even if they can’t express it. When school break times approach, some kids completely fall apart! Keep your class routines predictable: all of the songs, all of the transitions, etc. And continue with the proactive things we do as teachers… reteach, remind, reinforce, repeat. You’ve got this!
This makes me think of Molly’s preschool where all the teachers had this supposed mystical inner peace. They hummed and chopped apples, hemmed hankies or whatever and all the children were supposedly these perfect little delightful spiritual beings. And I remember being shocked (and smiling inwardly) a few months into school at pick-up to see Molly’s teacher with gritted teeth, clearly exasperated trying to get the kids to behave. She wasn’t singing little songs anymore. She was just shouting their names and telling them to cut it out. I think preschoolers are just hard.