Hi! Welcome to my new blog, where I explain how I’m another millennial failing at life.
I’m 25. I attended an incredible college where I double majored and got my bachelors degree, and then received my masters in education. My school decided that I was ready to venture into the world of education and become a teacher!
I spent a year subbing around the area where I have decided to put down roots. I spent this past summer teaching summer school to 8th graders with ADHD in a classroom that had no windows, and then in a hair and nail salon where I made $11/hour and could barely pay my student loans.
And then, finally, my big break! Every new teacher’s dream! Someone at an elementary school quit last minute, and I landed a job teaching 6th grade ELA three days before school started.
Now, if you’re not a teacher, you’re probably thinking to yourself, “How awesome! A last minute miracle!”
If you ARE a teacher, you’re thinking, “Shit, she missed an entire month of inservice training and new employee training. Poor kid.”
I lasted exactly three months as a 6th grade teacher.
Now, I should give you some background on my qualifications. My licensure is 6th grade-12th grade English and English as a Second Language (ESL). I spent my student teaching in a 12th grade Honors English class, where I was able to teach the cream of the crop how to do literary analysis and how to write a literary analysis paper. We studied Shakespeare. We discussed rape and sexuality and social norms. I LOVED IT. It was exactly what I wanted to be doing! I knew teaching was going to be an incredible journey where I could host discussions of important topics and teach young adults to discuss tough topics in a civilized manner in order to deepen their understanding, and to increase their empathy of other people.
I graduated and was ready to get started on my dream! I knew it would take a while to work up to my dream, and that I’d have to put in some time as a substitute before I got a good position.
So, I did several long-term subbing jobs. 7th grade- eh, it was okay. After teaching it, I knew it wasn’t something I wanted to do long-term. 9th and 10th grade, were pretty great! We read and analyzed Animal Farm and To Kill a Mockingbird– I loved it! I knew high school was where I needed to be.
That summer, I taught the 8th graders who were just trying to pass into high school after a year of doing nothing. Did I love it? No. But it was fine! I made it through.
And then, the opportunity opened up for a full time, salaried position as a 6th grade ELA teacher. I had taught 7th grade and it went okay; this couldn’t be much different, right?
It was official! I was a 6th grade ELA teacher! I was going to get paid time off and paid sick days, paid holidays! I was going to get to teach reading and writing and spelling, and instill a love of reading in all of my little elementary schoolers.
Guess how much of this I was prepared for.
NOT A SINGLE FREAKING THING.
How is someone who spent the majority of their education teaching students who were basically adults, some of them WERE legally adults, who were able to manage their behavior, control their emotions, their voices, their impulses, supposed to be ready to go into a classroom of 18 11-year-olds and not go clinically insane?
How was I supposed to know that “establishing expectations” in 6th grade means LITERALLY MODELING FOR KIDS that you need to RAISE YOUR HAND to speak, that you do not get to TALK BACK at a teacher, that when you are asked to sit down you are supposed to SIT DOWN, or that you CANNOT GLUE SHIT TO THE CUPBOARDS BECAUSE YOU’RE MAD THAT I KEPT YOU IN FOR RECESS BECAUSE YOU COULDN’T FOLLOW BASIC CLASSROOM EXPECTATIONS.
Clearly, I’m still a little frustrated about the glue incident.
So basically, in a nutshell, I failed as a 6th grade teacher.
I did not set my expectations at the beginning of the year because I didn’t realize I had to. I assumed, wrongly, that 11 year olds would be trained to raise their hands by this point in their education, and that they would know that they are not supposed to talk over the top of someone else who was talking, ESPECIALLY their teacher.
I let 17 11-year-olds get the best of me. I know first-year teachers go through a huge drop in morale, but my mental health reached a point where I thought falling down the stairs and breaking a leg to get a few weeks off work sounded more appealing than going to school.
So, yesterday was the day that I broke.
My kids were obnoxious as usual. There was a groan of “This is BORING” before I even asked them to take out their writing notebooks. My usual wanderers were up out of their seats. They completely ignored me when I asked them to go sit back down. There were the usual “Why are you always targeting us?!” comments that they use to argue with me.
And it broke me.
I started crying. In my classroom. In front of 17 11-year-olds.
I had to leave my room, ask another teacher in the classroom next door to keep an eye on my kids, and run to the bathroom to have a full-on meltdown of sobbing that I’m sure they heard from the other end of the school.
And that’s how I got here. I quit on the spot, and am now a 25 year old sitting at home with no job whatsoever, $1000 in student loans to pay this month, and the bright idea to start a blog.
Where do I think this blog will go? No clue. I think I want to start writing again (I haven’t since college), but I have no idea what to write about. I’ve always wanted to be an editor, but nobody is going to let me proofread or copyedit their work without seeing my own first.
Maybe that’s what I’ll do?
I hope you’re willing to follow along with my journey of failing as a young professional.
Welcome!
25 and a Failure 