I decided somewhere in my first year of teaching that I wanted to teach for a third year. My reasoning was simple – I knew that as a first year teacher I was below average (which is putting it nicely) and that as a second year teacher I would be about average, and that in my third year, I could potentially be above average. The potential for above average performance in my third year would balance out the below average performance in my first year, which would mean that I could expect to have a net positive impact on my students and the community where I taught.
In my first year of teaching, I also realized that teaching was something that I wanted to be good at. Not that I was good at it, but I saw good teaching from others, and I knew that I wanted to be able to do that.
This year, there have been days in my classroom where there was really good teaching. Was it great every day? No. Did I execute every lesson how I envisioned it? No. Was class culture always in a great place in each of my classes? No.
Did I build stronger relationships with parents than I ever have before? Yes. Did I push students to engage with more rigorous content than I ever have before? Yes. Did I have stronger classroom management than I have before? Yes.
I’ve put in more hours working this year than I ever have before, but fewer hours in that state of aimless despair, fewer hours of frustration about trying to help kids who have needs beyond anything I’m capable of handling, fewer hours of “I know that this child needs an IEP and I know that I’m the third teacher to try to get them tested, but the systems we have in place are making that impossible.”
I’m going to be teaching again next year. Fifth grade math again, too. I feel calmer about it than I ever have before, which is huge for me.