When I first decided to become a teacher (way back in 6th grade when I was the most well-read, awkward little musical middle schooler ever), I remember thinking about how I couldn't wait to change students' lives. I knew I would take my craft and show everyone who walked into my classroom that it was a craft worth loving and enjoying. As I got older, I still held on to that idea and knew that, one day, I would become the greatest teacher ever and have the most inspirational, mind-blowing lessons and units that would churn out future world leaders, authors, musicians and the occasional comedian.
Honestly, though, that was only about 20% of what I thought about. The remaining 80% was devoted to the dream every teacher knows: creating the perfect classroom.
Let's face it: we live in a world where we are witnessed and observed at the first glance. As teachers, we dress professionally and maintain eye contact. We alter our tone of voice to carry unspoken lessons that all students will understand. But before all that, the first thing students will see is our classroom.
Honestly, though, that was only about 20% of what I thought about. The remaining 80% was devoted to the dream every teacher knows: creating the perfect classroom.
Let's face it: we live in a world where we are witnessed and observed at the first glance. As teachers, we dress professionally and maintain eye contact. We alter our tone of voice to carry unspoken lessons that all students will understand. But before all that, the first thing students will see is our classroom.
When I joined my school last summer, I was caught up with a week and a half of new teacher inservice, remembering as much information about everything, trying to reach out and meet new teachers and friends, and coming home exhausted and terrified every night. When we finally had a chance to sit down and think about our classrooms, we had a full work day left before students graced our hallways. I frantically put up my favorite art pieces and inspirational quotes, arranged the desks in standard rows and put a few tasteful (and incredibly nostalgic) photos around my desk. I draped my graduation cords and sash in front of my computer and proudly displayed my diploma. This was my classroom.
As I stood in front of the rows of desks, facing the invisible faces that I would meet the next day, I couldn't help but think, "...well...this will do for now."
This was NOT how I thought my first classroom would feel.
As I stood in front of the rows of desks, facing the invisible faces that I would meet the next day, I couldn't help but think, "...well...this will do for now."
This was NOT how I thought my first classroom would feel.
So this year everything was different. I decided that my students would not get a truly authentic experience if I did not first create a truly authentic classroom from me.
I quietly collected images and ideas from my middle school mind, sketches in my sketchbook, links from Pinterest and pictures borrowed from other teachers. I dabbled with ideas of pictures, words, fabric and seating arrangement. I lucked out in having my husband being a feng shui magician and welcomed his help with arranging all of the pesky cords that come with having a desk. I took a deep breath and went in a week before I needed to be back in the school to begin my work.
This year: my classroom was going to be me.
I quietly collected images and ideas from my middle school mind, sketches in my sketchbook, links from Pinterest and pictures borrowed from other teachers. I dabbled with ideas of pictures, words, fabric and seating arrangement. I lucked out in having my husband being a feng shui magician and welcomed his help with arranging all of the pesky cords that come with having a desk. I took a deep breath and went in a week before I needed to be back in the school to begin my work.
This year: my classroom was going to be me.
And you know what? This was the first time I have ever walked into a classroom and felt completely at ease. I have taught (and sometimes felt like I lived) in this classroom for a full year before truly feeling like it was the place for me to embrace. I dabbled in tissue paper turned into "poofs", hung fabric over already suitable curtains, made fancy punctuation mark images and hung old student art with extreme care.
My deskspace is now a safe haven and not a place for grueling essay grading. My student desks are arranged so that I can wander and kneel at ease without feeling like a dictator. And there are a few sassy little tokens that will (hopefully) get a smirk or at least a recognition from a few students.
In short: my classroom is now comfortable.
My deskspace is now a safe haven and not a place for grueling essay grading. My student desks are arranged so that I can wander and kneel at ease without feeling like a dictator. And there are a few sassy little tokens that will (hopefully) get a smirk or at least a recognition from a few students.
In short: my classroom is now comfortable.
I've spoken about how the second year is a new year of growth, strength and excitement. I haven't really paid attention to the growth, strength and excitement of the second year classroom. From here on out, my mantra is to walk in each day and "Be Awesome." There are many definitions of awesome, which is why it hangs above my door as a reminder to everyone. As of right now, my "Be Awesome" comes in the form of my uprooted and redecorated classroom.
I couldn't be happier with what I've created.
In other news: we have successfully completed the first full day of school. However, I will not plan a post until we have hit the second full day. This is the joy of block scheduling: I get to meet more students on Monday. And that is an exciting feeling.
I couldn't be happier with what I've created.
In other news: we have successfully completed the first full day of school. However, I will not plan a post until we have hit the second full day. This is the joy of block scheduling: I get to meet more students on Monday. And that is an exciting feeling.