LAST EDITED ON 07-23-05 AT 08:54 PM (EST)It took me several years, and a couple of hit-and-miss attempts at other careers, before I finally settled on the teaching profession. I finished my basic college requirements and started my student teaching.
My original plan was to teach elementary grades, and all of my training was geared to that end. The first part of my student teaching had been with a 4th grade gifted class – this was during the 1992 presidential campaign, and we actually had some reasonable classroom discussions on Clinton vs. Dole. For the second half I was assigned to a Kindergarten class, meaning overnight I went from “Dole will ruin the economy.” to “Did you flush?”
I was awarded my preliminary credential in January 1993 and immediately offered a position as substitute teacher in the same district. The first call I got was, however, for a middle school. Of course, I didn’t turn it down – not my very first assignment as the teacher. I got to the school office early, and was told the assignment was 7th grade Health. Given the key and directions, I quickly found the room.
There on the desk I found the day’s assignment: a stack of worksheets and a simple directive from the teacher. “Please read over and have kids answer questions.”
The.Female.Reproductive.System. (with illustrations)
Humanah Humanah Humanah.
First period, I just handed out the papers and skulked back towards the teacher’s desk. Didn’t discuss, didn’t check for understanding, didn’t bother to look to see if they were doing the work.
Second period I decided to at least read the worksheet myself – and helped with some pronunciation questions. Still no real discussion on the topic.
During nutrition, I wandered into the classroom next door and talked with the teacher. She told me to “watch out for a kid in 4th period, he’s a real pistol. You can’t miss him because he had bright red hair.”
Just what I needed. First.Day.As.A.Teacher.
Third period I was able to direct some students to where the answers could be found on the worksheet. I was beginning to stammer a little less often, and had a good feeling about the day. Then I remembered about “the kid with red hair”.
Fourth period. There he is, front row center.
We read through the material. I get to the part where the birth process is described – in full analytical detail. After reading the description of the cervix dilating Red Hair raises his hand.
“Does it hurt when the baby comes out?” He says with an angelic/devilish look on his face.
Now, I remember my mother’s description of that event – “It’s like sh***ing a watermelon!” Not wanting to use that exact phrase, I told him, “Well, I’ve never actually had the opportunity to find out. I suggest you ask your mother what it was like when you were born.”
His answer: “No way! She already says I’m a pain in the A$$!”
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