AuburnChick's Adventures

I’ve had a very frustrating week at work.

We just began a new semester, and although most of my students stayed with me, I obtained twelve new ones.

Surprisingly, the new students aren’t the ones giving me fits.  It’s the other ones.

I’ve cried a bit this week out…feeling very inadequate.

Yesterday, after allowing myself to wallow around in a self-induced pity party, I pulled up my bootstraps and decided to get on with life.

Oh, and I prayed.

Dang.

Should have done that first.

God is so good.

He revealed a plan to me.

I wove together a story after digging around in a couple of closets for the items I needed.

Today, after my students completed their bellwork and independent reading, I explained that I was going to tell them a true story.

I began my story by telling them that when I began the ninth grade I was butt-ugly with my uber short hair.  I showed them the front of my yearbook from 1985.

I explained how the seniors looked huge and oh so amazing in their coiffed dos and fancy duds.

I was not confident, didn’t fit in, and thought that the twelfth grade seemed very far away.

The year, I went on to say, flew by, and before I knew it, I was in the 10th grade.

I explained that I’d gotten myself a boyfriend the year before, broken up with him for cheating on me, and then got another boyfriend who asked me to the prom.

I also told them that I was gaining confidence and even played basketball…

Yes, that’s the uniform I was supposed to return but, in true teenager fashion, forgot.  Those are even the shorts I wore.

My students were shocked, amazed, and humored.

I held up my 1987 yearbook and told them that my junior year was when I started having fun.  My hair had finally grown out, and I had joined various clubs.  The Juniors fixed up the gym for the prom (tradition), and I was in a couple of plays.

My story continued.

As I entered the 12th grade, I couldn’t believe I was finally a senior.  I was president of the Pep Club, a member of the Beta Club, yearbook editor or co-editor, and a host of other things.  I kept the stats for the boys basketball team and watched in pride as we made it to the state finals.

I showed them my memory book, and they were amazed.

It was huge…barely containing the stuff I’d stuck inside.

I explained that before I knew it, May 22nd came around…

That’s when I slowly pulled out my high school cap and gown, taking my time in adding my Salutatorian panel and cord.

I walked around the room and let them look at the stitching and asked if they knew what the word was and what it meant.

One of my first period students didn’t recognize the word, but he understood the meaning.  “You was smart, Mrs. AuburnChick,” is what he said.

🙂

I pulled my hair out of its ponytail and put on the cap.

You can imagine their looks as I hung my tassel with the year ’88 over the side.

Then, I explained that as Salutatorian, I got to do something very special.  I walked to the TV and turned it on, pressing the play button on the VCR.

Oh yes, my twangy, Alabama voice spewed forth, and they were speechless.

I told them that those four years of high school had flown by quicker than I’d ever thought, and the only way I got to the end was by keeping my eye on the prize…graduation.

Next, I explained that my education had not stopped there but had continued, albeit with a long break, until I finished up at Troy.  I put on that gown as well and showed them a picture taken that day.

I asked my students how many of them wanted to continue to college.  Nearly all of them raised their hands.

I was so proud!

I expounded even further (I do tend to talk a lot) because I wanted my students to know that though I look like I’ve had an easy life, the truth is that I went through a lot of hard times when I was young.  I’ve known what it’s like to be the child of a single parent and all of the challenges that come with being on your own a lot.  I know what it’s like to be hungry.  There wasn’t much money when I was young.

As I shared these personal details, I watched kids faces register surprise.  One of my gals sat, tears streaming down her face, as she listened.  This little girl has had a very rough go of it.  I know some of the details of her life, and I’m amazed that she’s in school and excelling.

I ended my story by telling my students that every time they act poorly in class, they take their eyes off of the prize and deny others to reach their goals as well.

Oh my gosh.

It was powerful, to say the least.

I ended the story and jumped into the lesson of the day.  One of my classes, an especially unruly bunch, tried to get out of hand again (short memories, eh?).

I asked them to raise their hands if they had their eyes on the prize.

Everyone raised their hands.

Then, they were silent as they awaited further instruction.

Time will tell if story time leaves a permanent impression.

I’ve got a red cap and gown from the school, and after ironing the gown, I’m going to hang it in the front of my room…a permanent fixture in the classroom and a visible reminder of the story and their mission…to keep their eyes on the prize.

Filed under: Teaching | Tagged: teaching |