If I had to sum up my first year of teaching in a single cliche, then that single cliche would easily be "Fake til you make it." And, oh, did I fake it. I faked knowledge where I had little, authority where it felt like I had none. Always, I faked confidence; sometimes I faked preparation. I imitated poise and calm when I had none; I pretended to be okay when I most certainly was not. And then one day I got so good at faking it that I didn't have to fake it at all. It probably took until January to have a "no-faking" day and then until March to have another. By the end of the year, I might have been able to string enough together to make almost a full week of not faking it.
I still feel like I'm faking it most of the time, but if you asked me the difference between my first and second year of teaching I would tell you that this year I actually feel like a teacher. What, then, does teaching feel like? I am just beginning to fully find out.
Pride. It feels like the rush when a student who failed geometry last year gets a B on her segments proofs quiz, when she tells you that it's not as good as she wanted but "it's better than last week and isn't that the point?"
Defeat. Doubt. Hope. It feels like trying every possible test taking method for a student who can verbalize his answers perfectly out loud but can't manage to get them on paper, like defeat when he fails the fourth quiz in a row, like doubt when you tell him that together we'll figure this out, like hope when he promises that together we will.
Fear. It feels like the pit in your stomach when you think of your seniors who have worked so hard for the last twelve years, but who cannot seem to pass their graduation tests. Like a shiver down your spine when you let yourself wonder what will happen to them.
Joy. It feels like the smile you cannot hide when one of your students informs another that "mistakes are okay because that's how we learn," a line you spent all of last year repeating to them, like happiness uncontainable when the other students nod and clap in agreement. It feels like maybe they learned something last year after all.
Exhaustion. It feels like forcing your eyes to stay open through the fourth after school meeting of the week in a room full of colleagues who look just as tired as you feel. It feels like dragging yourself to school sometimes with too much to do and not enough time or energy to do it.
Love. It feels like the warmth that your students exude when you put their names on the board and they cannot contain their excitement. "You know how to spell all of our names!? Even the apostrophes!" It feels like an overwhelming dose of affection when your students from last year tell you how glad they are to have you again.
Faith. It feels like assurance that you'll be back tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. The knowledge that some way, some how you'll get through this roller coaster because your kids deserve better. And at the end of the day that's all that matters.
