They
say it takes a village to raise a child. As the end of the first placement
approaches, I can confirm it also takes a village to create a teacher.
The end of ‘School Experience One’ as they call it, signals
the halfway mark of the PGCE course. Walking through the front door on the
first day, I could not imagine making it this far without crying in a store
room. As chance would have it, the only tears I have shed are at the prospect of
leaving. *audible cringe*
When I began this course, I was fairly sure I wanted to be a
teacher. A few weeks in I was convinced I’d be absolutely awful at it as a
career and should be removed from the course. I couldn’t even pronounce Vygotsky
let alone remember any of his theories. Fast forward a couple more weeks, a
nice long Christmas break and a new Netflix PB and I think I may have finally
found my feet. (I’ve just jinxed it haven’t I?).
Don’t get me wrong. There are days where nothing goes right. The computer won’t
work when you do have a PowerPoint. The projector screen won’t go up when you
don’t. Ten out of thirty kids have forgotten their entire school bag. Once, in
a surprising turn of events, my dog almost ate someone else’s homework. Like
any job it has its challenges.
But something that I didn’t expect to love just as much as I
do, is the joy that standing in front of a room full of wee faces learning for
the first time what a “yob” is, would bring. It wasn’t what they were supposed
to take away from the class. It wasn’t something I had planned to talk about at
all. But their delight at learning a new word and excitedly shouting “Don’t be
a yob!” at each other as they left the room made me belly laugh in a way I definitely
haven’t at a desk job.
I’ve had the chance to observe a lot of different styles of
teaching. I don’t know if I will ever be chill enough to walk into a room and
decide on the spot what we’re doing that day. I don’t know if I’ll ever
actually manage to reprimand a student without over-empathising as to the reason
why they might have decided to slide
down the banister and almost crack their head open on the stairs. But I’ve been
told it comes with time!
Speaking of time, it is the one part of lesson planning I do
have an issue with. Why should it be up to me to decide how many minutes the
students spend on a discussion about how important it is to be able to analyse
the agenda of the media? Or how finding a poem you relate to can be a source of
comfort and make you feel less alone in tough times? If they’re getting
something from it, I am not inclined to stop them to make sure I get through my
entire plan. “Linger longer” is the mantra I will take away from this
experience and I think it applies to much more than just plenaries.
