Wednesday, November 27, 2013
On the Grateful Lifestyle and Its Challenges
It’s not always easy to take the time to truly reflect and feel grateful for the things we have. Our government has given us the fourth Thursday of November to celebrate life’s blessings, but true gratitude should be an ongoing lifestyle choice. I will be the first to tell you that I do not do this, but I also know that I am not alone in that. Often, our sense of ingratitude is derived from one of two sources.
You Can’t Always Get What You Want
Deep down, there is a little Veruca Salt in all of us. We want what we want, and we want it now. We have goals and desires, and we are so singularly focused on them that anything less than those things is considered a massive disappointment. In and of itself, that is not a bad thing. It is good to aspire to new heights. It safeguards against complacency. But in being so single-minded, we lose sight of two things. One, we do not take joy in our journeys. Our desire for instant gratification can be a detriment. Successes are sweeter after failures, and the most satisfying successes take time and effort. If we always got everything we wanted as soon as we wanted it, we would quickly become numb to success. Success is a blessing and should be treated as such. Second, our desires can often outweigh our common sense. I will never forget when one of my bosses told me “Mr. Duehr, the things we want are often the things we should not have.” We sometimes get so disappointed by the fact that our lives do not meet the ideals we have set for them that we ignore the fact that many of those ideals are not the best things for us, and we neglect to acknowledge the good things we do have.
“And I still love the things I lost that brought me here…”
Perhaps my greatest barrier to a grateful lifestyle is the memory of what used to be. I have a hard time getting past the things I have lost. I’ve often been guilty of living in the past; this much I admit. It is difficult enjoy the present when the present seems inferior to the past. I would give almost anything to alter the course of 2013. I miss how my job once was. I miss having my friends around. I miss the hope that certain relationships once brought. But time has created separation between myself and those things. I know I can’t be the only one who struggles with that, but it’s not healthy. The past was great. Cherish it. But be thankful for the present and hopeful for the future.
“You know what the secret to happiness is? Wanting what you have.”
I used the above quote in my Thanksgiving 2011 post, and I like it so much that I decided to use it again. I spend too much too much time thinking about what I used to have or never will have that I lose sight of what I do have. My needs are covered. After a rocky few months, I have returned to full time employment and teaching my own class. I may not see my friends often anymore, but I still have people who genuinely care about me and want to see me prosper. I am mindful of the fact that I do still have goals and aspirations and am still on the road to where I want to be, but I am thankful for the progress I have made. This year has been far from easy, but I truly believe that by being mindful of the blessings I have been afforded, things will seem more hopeful. While none of us live in perfection, we do have a lot to be thankful for. It’s time to actively take notice.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Richards Revisited
I spend a lot of time thinking about the cyclical nature of life. When things are particularly rough (as they have been this year), I am quick to remind myself that things will come around. Conversely, I really try to find enjoyment in the good times, fleeting as they may be. Some periods of our lives seem better or worse in hindsight, as recency bias fades away. However, the most special times of our lives are just as amazing now as they seemed at the time. My time at Richards was one of those times. Since today marks five years to the day of my last day there as a student teacher, I figure that recency bias has worn off enough to objectively write about my time there.
Most people do not know that I wasn’t actually supposed to do my student teaching at Richards. I was set for placement at Lincoln-Way East High School when I found out in spring that they had terminated their contracts with all student teachers for that school year. Some of my former high school administrators and teachers tried to pull some strings to get me at Tinley Park High School, but they were overruled by district personnel. It was not until mid-summer that I found out I was going to complete my student teaching at Harold L. Richards High School. The superintendent of my high school district (who was my former associate principal) had a close relationship with the coordinator of social studies for District 218, and he put in a good word for me. By the beginning of July, my placement was finally set, and I was good to go.
I was given three World History and two Honors United States History courses and the opportunity to learn under Mr. Montes. Montes was a sharp guy. While I was used to teachers who pretty much only taught one way (lecture style), Montes varied his lessons a lot. There were the traditional lessons at times, but he was a huge proponent of experiential learning. Seeing those types of lessons really opened the floodgates for me in terms of broadening my horizons and becoming more innovative as a teacher (skills I would definitely need at AAA Academy).
Fortunately, I was able to observe under him for two weeks before taking over any of the classes myself. Quite honestly, I was scared to death of the kids. I was never the most confident guy in the world to that point, and the idea of being a 21 year old teaching 16 and 17 year old kids was daunting, to say the least. Those first two weeks I wanted to just crawl into a corner and hide. The kids later (mostly) jokingly referred to me as “the creepy guy in the back” during that period.
Something crazy happened once I started to teach. I actually started to get comfortable. Instead of trying to be Montes Jr. I decided to be me, or “Mr. D.”, as my student aide called me (which stuck). I taught the lessons, but I tried to make connections in ways that hopefully resonated with my audience. Lame jokes and pop culture references abounded, and we even had “Techno Tuesday” in my first period class.
I was able to quickly develop good relationships with a significant percentage of my 125 students. I think we were able to connect so quickly because of how close we were in age. I understood and had a lot of patience with them because I was not all that far removed from being in that stage of life myself. I couldn’t get through the hallways in any sort of reasonable time because of how often I’d get stopped by kids. I never found my seat at the football games because I’d be engaged in all sorts of fun conversations. For one of the first times in my life, I really felt like I belonged.
Now that I’m a bit older and well-removed from my time there, I can admit that I was far from perfect during my time there. As a student teacher (and even during your career as a full-time teacher), you are learning on the fly. Perfection is not a reasonable goal; progress is. A lot of it stemmed from the fact that I was becoming popular with the kids. Popularity breeds a false sense of accomplishment and an inflated sense of your abilities. Too often, I wanted to be their friends and be one of those “cool” teachers. I never should have accepted their MySpace or Facebook friend requests until they were out of high school. Put bluntly, I was a young kid who thought I knew everything. I didn’t always take advice well. Most of the time, I would ignore it. My preparation was never an issue, but my classroom management often was. I was far too laid back, and in turn was far too lax with the students. Because I liked them so much, I wanted to see them succeed, and I wasn’t firm enough with them. Deadlines often got extended. Our class was far too loud. One student was so comfortable with me that he brought a roll of pennies to hurl at a freshman. I wasn’t all that good at keeping ahead of the procedural paper trail, but I learned from that by the time I moved on to my full-time gig.
Not all students liked me, either, but that comes with the territory. I am the only teacher I know that has received a hate message in a bottle from a student. It was an extreme measure, but it was not entirely uncalled for. He felt that I did not do enough to keep some of the other students from bothering him. I felt that he was an agitator to them. The reality was somewhere in between.
The lessons were fun. I’ll never forget the token trading activity we did during the Ancient African unit, nor will I forget breaking up the class into different city-states for our version of the Greek Olympics. The kids were engaged, and for many of them, I was able to see definite progress.
Montes and I differed in our methods of dealing with students. I did not always agree, but he was the veteran and I was the rookie, and he truly did know better. Though Montes and I fell out of touch immediately after student teaching, he and Mr. Gavin (another social studies teacher and former student teacher of Montes) were invaluable as mentors to me during that time. It upsets me that I never got to thank Mr. Gavin for looking out for me before he died. I don’t want the same to happen with Montes.
I only spent 62 days at Richards High School, but I have a lifetime of memories. I could probably fill up another five blog posts detailing them. From the botched disaster drill to that Civil War role-playing activity that went horribly wrong to Lyons passing gas in a fan to Babalou singing inappropriate song lyrics during class to Connect Four tournaments to the guy in fifth period cutting his long blond hair into a purple Mohawk because I sarcastically said I’d give him extra credit for it, some of my finest memories occurred in that classroom.
There are two things I was able to take from Richards that value more than most things in my life. First, I learned how to really be an effective teacher. It took me a while to put the pieces together, but Montes and Gavin gave the tools and had patience with me when I didn’t get things right. My mistakes refined me, and I have succeeded as a teacher since because I was given that opportunity to rise and fall on my own merits. The other thing I was able to take was the number of former students I still consider friends to this day. I feel like I learned more from some of them than they ever learned from me. I still keep a letter from one of those students in my car to read whenever I am having a particularly hard day on the job. Now that they are in their early twenties and I’m in my mid-twenties, we really seem like peers. I am so proud of so many of them, and I am constantly excited to see where their roads are going to take them.
To Montes, thank you. To you unfortunate 125 kids who had to be my guinea pigs for 12 weeks, thank you. Because of you, I am who I am today. I’m not the creepy guy in the back anymore. I have confidence in my abilities, and I have been able to grow in those abilities. My time with you was one of the most exciting and enjoyable periods of my life. I hope my time with you was a fraction as meaningful to you as it was to me.
Most people do not know that I wasn’t actually supposed to do my student teaching at Richards. I was set for placement at Lincoln-Way East High School when I found out in spring that they had terminated their contracts with all student teachers for that school year. Some of my former high school administrators and teachers tried to pull some strings to get me at Tinley Park High School, but they were overruled by district personnel. It was not until mid-summer that I found out I was going to complete my student teaching at Harold L. Richards High School. The superintendent of my high school district (who was my former associate principal) had a close relationship with the coordinator of social studies for District 218, and he put in a good word for me. By the beginning of July, my placement was finally set, and I was good to go.
I was given three World History and two Honors United States History courses and the opportunity to learn under Mr. Montes. Montes was a sharp guy. While I was used to teachers who pretty much only taught one way (lecture style), Montes varied his lessons a lot. There were the traditional lessons at times, but he was a huge proponent of experiential learning. Seeing those types of lessons really opened the floodgates for me in terms of broadening my horizons and becoming more innovative as a teacher (skills I would definitely need at AAA Academy).
Fortunately, I was able to observe under him for two weeks before taking over any of the classes myself. Quite honestly, I was scared to death of the kids. I was never the most confident guy in the world to that point, and the idea of being a 21 year old teaching 16 and 17 year old kids was daunting, to say the least. Those first two weeks I wanted to just crawl into a corner and hide. The kids later (mostly) jokingly referred to me as “the creepy guy in the back” during that period.
Something crazy happened once I started to teach. I actually started to get comfortable. Instead of trying to be Montes Jr. I decided to be me, or “Mr. D.”, as my student aide called me (which stuck). I taught the lessons, but I tried to make connections in ways that hopefully resonated with my audience. Lame jokes and pop culture references abounded, and we even had “Techno Tuesday” in my first period class.
I was able to quickly develop good relationships with a significant percentage of my 125 students. I think we were able to connect so quickly because of how close we were in age. I understood and had a lot of patience with them because I was not all that far removed from being in that stage of life myself. I couldn’t get through the hallways in any sort of reasonable time because of how often I’d get stopped by kids. I never found my seat at the football games because I’d be engaged in all sorts of fun conversations. For one of the first times in my life, I really felt like I belonged.
Now that I’m a bit older and well-removed from my time there, I can admit that I was far from perfect during my time there. As a student teacher (and even during your career as a full-time teacher), you are learning on the fly. Perfection is not a reasonable goal; progress is. A lot of it stemmed from the fact that I was becoming popular with the kids. Popularity breeds a false sense of accomplishment and an inflated sense of your abilities. Too often, I wanted to be their friends and be one of those “cool” teachers. I never should have accepted their MySpace or Facebook friend requests until they were out of high school. Put bluntly, I was a young kid who thought I knew everything. I didn’t always take advice well. Most of the time, I would ignore it. My preparation was never an issue, but my classroom management often was. I was far too laid back, and in turn was far too lax with the students. Because I liked them so much, I wanted to see them succeed, and I wasn’t firm enough with them. Deadlines often got extended. Our class was far too loud. One student was so comfortable with me that he brought a roll of pennies to hurl at a freshman. I wasn’t all that good at keeping ahead of the procedural paper trail, but I learned from that by the time I moved on to my full-time gig.
Not all students liked me, either, but that comes with the territory. I am the only teacher I know that has received a hate message in a bottle from a student. It was an extreme measure, but it was not entirely uncalled for. He felt that I did not do enough to keep some of the other students from bothering him. I felt that he was an agitator to them. The reality was somewhere in between.
The lessons were fun. I’ll never forget the token trading activity we did during the Ancient African unit, nor will I forget breaking up the class into different city-states for our version of the Greek Olympics. The kids were engaged, and for many of them, I was able to see definite progress.
Montes and I differed in our methods of dealing with students. I did not always agree, but he was the veteran and I was the rookie, and he truly did know better. Though Montes and I fell out of touch immediately after student teaching, he and Mr. Gavin (another social studies teacher and former student teacher of Montes) were invaluable as mentors to me during that time. It upsets me that I never got to thank Mr. Gavin for looking out for me before he died. I don’t want the same to happen with Montes.
I only spent 62 days at Richards High School, but I have a lifetime of memories. I could probably fill up another five blog posts detailing them. From the botched disaster drill to that Civil War role-playing activity that went horribly wrong to Lyons passing gas in a fan to Babalou singing inappropriate song lyrics during class to Connect Four tournaments to the guy in fifth period cutting his long blond hair into a purple Mohawk because I sarcastically said I’d give him extra credit for it, some of my finest memories occurred in that classroom.
There are two things I was able to take from Richards that value more than most things in my life. First, I learned how to really be an effective teacher. It took me a while to put the pieces together, but Montes and Gavin gave the tools and had patience with me when I didn’t get things right. My mistakes refined me, and I have succeeded as a teacher since because I was given that opportunity to rise and fall on my own merits. The other thing I was able to take was the number of former students I still consider friends to this day. I feel like I learned more from some of them than they ever learned from me. I still keep a letter from one of those students in my car to read whenever I am having a particularly hard day on the job. Now that they are in their early twenties and I’m in my mid-twenties, we really seem like peers. I am so proud of so many of them, and I am constantly excited to see where their roads are going to take them.
To Montes, thank you. To you unfortunate 125 kids who had to be my guinea pigs for 12 weeks, thank you. Because of you, I am who I am today. I’m not the creepy guy in the back anymore. I have confidence in my abilities, and I have been able to grow in those abilities. My time with you was one of the most exciting and enjoyable periods of my life. I hope my time with you was a fraction as meaningful to you as it was to me.
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