 Personal, academic triumphs in first year
By Erin O'Grady I arrived at school early on the morning of Aug. 20, 2001. Butterflies were already building in my stomach. I quickly scanned the room looking for last minute things that needed to be done. I sharpened pencils and wrote the day's schedule on my new wipe board. I turned on the lamp that sat on a little round reading table. I plugged in the white twinkle lights that delicately hung on my walls. I remember sitting at my desk as 8:55 a.m. approached. "This is it!'' I thought. I had dreamed of this day for so many years. I was a teacher with my very own students. I started with eight of my 24 students. More trickled in as I got right down to business. Engaging them as quickly as possible, I posed the question, "What do you notice about our classroom?'' Several observations were voiced, and then one little girl said, "I notice a numberline.'' "What do you notice about it?'' I asked. "Well, the biggest number on it is 100.'' "Good, what else?'' "The lowest number is 20.'' "Hmmmm. . .'' I waited for more. "Wait -- there are two 20's,'' exclaimed another student. "Ah ha! How can that be?'' I asked. This discussion led to our very first math lesson. There were two 20's because one of them was negative. My first year of teaching was a combination of successes and failures, joys and sorrows. One such moment during the year was in the middle of our writer's workshop. All my students were busy writing, and I was having a conversation with Jonathan, who seemed a bit off that morning. "Jonathan, are you OK?'' Immediately, tears filled his eyes as he explained that his grandma had died. Sitting on the floor in the middle of writer's workshop this little boy cried in my arms for 10 minutes. "You know what I do sometimes when I'm really sad, Jonathan? I write all about it in my notebook. Sometimes it makes me feel better to just get it out.'' Tears soaking his page, he proceeded to sit down and write all about how he felt about his grandma's death. "You know, he'll never forget that moment,'' a friend told me. Neither will I. And there was Bessie, a student who was with me for only nine weeks before transferring. Bessie would do anything to act out in class. Oddly enough, she was also one of the students most dear to me. I began to figure her out and learn how we could work together. One day after school, she came in to tell me that she had been suspended for fighting on the playground. We talked, and I let her know I was disappointed and that I would miss her in class. Then she hugged me and didn't let go for a long time. I began to cry. When she stepped back, she saw my wet eyes. She said, "Good-bye, Ms. O'Grady.'' At the time, I didn't know that was the last time we would see each other. It was difficult to enter a school that had been given the label "unsatisfactory.'' The CSAP third grade reading scores had been at 22 percent proficiency the year before. I knew we had a huge task ahead. The students worked so hard, and on the first day of CSAP testing, I had perfect attendance, which is nearly unheard of at Ebert Elementary. The added bonus came when I found out that our hard work had paid off, and our proficiency went from 22 to 44 percent. If anything, I am more passionate about teaching now than when I started. I feel privileged to work with urban children. All children deserve the opportunity to learn and grow.
|
Age: 23
