We Were All New Once

We Were All New Once

by James Coats

I am a new teacher – like, fresh out of the box new. I finished my student teaching in March, received my MAT soon after, and started my career in August. I have a whopping 5 weeks’ worth of experience as a teacher of record. 

Told you I was new.

I cannot deny that I was floundering during the first week of classes. I had all my “get to know you” activities planned, but I was struggling to devise plans for week 2. Friday rolled around, and my stomach was tied in ropes because I hadn’t created anything other than the “Happy Monday!” slide in my deck. But over that weekend, a small spark of inspiration struck me. I had just started teaching my students annotation skills, but the document I had them read was very dull, and I could tell the students were struggling. I decided to do away with that text, and, using a new annotation technique a friend had provided, I would have the students annotate “The Raven.” Why “The Raven”? I love the poem, and the thought of teaching it excited me. I also thought the poem would engage the students as they practiced their annotation skills. It’s gloomy and angsty – perfect for my 11th graders! I was finally starting to feel the same zeal that I did during my time as a student teacher.

There was certainly an extra bounce in my step come Monday morning. I shared my excitement and my idea with my course team lead. He shot the idea down almost immediately. Instead of inquiring about my plan or helping me refine it, he simply said, “Why ‘The Raven’?” The way the question was asked was condescending, and I meekly attempted to justify my choice. He told me not to use the text, and to find one that fit the unit’s existentialism theme. And that was that. He had said his piece; the matter was closed.

I felt foolish and unqualified. For the first time in a long time, someone made me feel stupid. Looking back, I should have stood my ground and defended my idea. Instead, I nodded absentmindedly to whatever he was saying (I had stopped listening to him because the voices of doubt and insecurity were whispering in my ear) and went back to rethink my planning (after I went to my car and broke down in tears). 

I know I haven’t been doing this job long, but ever since I embarked on my journey as an educator, never once has a student been the cause of the kind of self-doubt and insecurity I was experiencing. My 18 months of experience have taught me that it is the other adults in the room who do the most damage.

Luckily, it did not take me too long to bounce back from this. I am a resilient person. I am also blessed to have teacher friends who believe in propping fellow educators up, not tearing them down. Their empathy and celebration of my achievements – no matter how minor – helped me refocus my energies on creating quality classroom content. 

Despite having scuttled my plans for “The Raven,” I found that I was feeling more comfortable as a teacher as each day passed. It was early in the year, but I was beginning to find a simple rhythm. My confidence had started to return, and I was again tapping into my passion for ELA. 

So, I decided to follow my passion and not let anyone stop me from using “The Raven” in class. I made copies for my students, found a beautiful reading of the poem, and set out to teach my students how to annotate. And my students loved the poem. We discussed it in class. They asked thought-provoking questions about the text. One student even made such an insightful comment that I will never read the poem the same way again. (I know I’ve done my job when the students start teaching me!) Did every one of my 140+ students understand the poem’s various themes? Of course not. Did all of my students understand the allusions and vocabulary? Nope. Did they all even annotate the poem? Do you need to ask? But, as I read their annotations, I could see that they were making connections in the poem and developing meaning out of the words. I saw them making connections to the other texts we had read in class. They even connected the poem to some of our mini-lessons on existentialism.

At my school, I feel like there is no room for failure. While I understand that we should strive to provide high-quality lessons, a few bumps along the way are to be expected. Especially for a first-year teacher. Maybe “The Raven” wasn’t the best choice of text. Maybe my lesson plans weren’t as strong as they could have been. Maybe I could have found a better means to instruct my students. But I won’t learn any of that if I’m robbed of the opportunity to first fall flat on my face and then learn from my mistakes.

New teachers like myself need the guidance of veteran teachers. Even if our ideas are terrible, what good does it do anyone to simply shut us down? If our lesson plans are awful, veteran teachers should help us both identify the problems and make the lessons stronger. Veteran teachers should work alongside us to craft inspiring, exciting content for our students. They have the benefit of wisdom and experience. And we newbies are hungry to learn from those who have made it work year after year.

Also…let us fail sometimes. We new teachers really need the breathing room to learn from our mistakes. We need to figure out how to pivot and adapt. It’s okay, really. I promise that the students will still be in class tomorrow.

Author

James Coats – I am a poet, guitarist, teacher, and expert cheesecake crafter. I spent 10 years in graphic design before deciding to dedicate my life to sharing my love of literature. My favorite poem is William Blake’s “The Tyger.”