Still Learning

The practical component of the first semester of my graduate diploma was tricky at first. My first lesson teaching a year ten English class was pretty bad. It was a lesson on delivering legal summations. The students had to do their own in a few weeks and, while they'd written some good summations, their delivery needed a lot of work. And so, it would seem, did mine.

I had always been okay at speeches. Beyond the oral presentations required in English and various other subjects, I had also been required to speak in front of the school quite regularly and was a member of the debating team (yes, I was that cool). Even though people told me I was a good public speaker, I was always nervous before, and exceptionally nervous during, every speech. I remember one inter-school debate during which my legs were shaking so vigorously that I felt I must have appeared, to the casual observer, to be dancing. You know, a bit of interpretive dance to hammer home my point. Those seemed like five of the longest minutes of my life. Afterwards, I was relieved to learn that no-one had even noticed my legs shaking -- thank you, long pants -- but it made me hyper-aware of appearing nervous from then on.

Standing at the front of that classroom with thirty sets of eyes (plus the two belonging to my supervising teacher, who was taking notes) instantly turned me into somewhat of a mouse. I was hardly the shining example of an eloquent and powerful public speaker I needed to be. This was compounded by the fact that technology failed me and the video clip I had intended to show the class was refused entry by that metaphorical, meat-headed bouncer, Microsoft Windows. When it came time for the class to practise what I'd shown them, few of them actually delivered the lines I supplied them with any power or conviction. But that was my failure, not theirs.

I left that class feeling deflated and like I'd messed up about as badly as I could have. The thought of having to stand up in front of that class again was too panic-inducing to entertain. I don't remember anything else about that day other than feeling less-than-hopeful about my future as an educator. For the next couple of weeks, I basically had it in my head that the kids were smarter than I was and that I was about as rubbish a teacher as there ever was. All the worry and work I was putting in outside of school hours didn't seem to be translating into results in the classroom. My supervisor told me that I was doing okay but I really didn't feel terribly successful.

Somehow, little by little, week by week, I began to feel more confident and capable standing at the front of the classroom. I was less scared of the kids, which was probably a good start. By the end of the term I felt like I was doing okay. My second semester university classes came and went and then began the second (and final) practical component of the course. And it went exactly the same way as the first had. No confidence to start with, gradually building, at the end of the six weeks, to me feeling like I could actually be a competent teacher.

Having completed the course and reflected on my experience, I must say that the placements were harder than actually being a teacher. And by that I mean this: with practise, standing in front of a class of students is not that difficult. But having another teacher there watching you and taking notes makes it that much harder for someone like me, an over-thinker. I found that I'd second guess myself all the time and assume I was doing something wrong. And it's not as though I had issues with my supervising teacher at all -- we got on really well, he was good at giving constructive feedback and really supportive of me -- but the thought of someone there evaluating my every move just about did my head in. It made me worry excessively about everything to the point where I think I actually stopped seeing the big picture: that I was there to teach stuff to people. It was no more complicated than that. The constant worry over every little element and every possible thing that could go wrong was just a distraction. And the worry about being constantly assessed and evaluated was just stupid.

I'm not sure I took that in consciously. Not then, anyway. Now that I'm -- sometimes -- working as a teacher (without someone sitting at the back of the room taking notes) I find it easier to just get on with teaching the class and not worry so much. I would even say that I feel comfortable in front of any class I'm given. So that's good, I suppose. I try to think about how I was feeling on that first day of my placement when I was convinced I just wasn't cut out to be a teacher. It's nice to think that I've made some progress.