So in my quest to write a personal statement and philosophy of education for my graduate school applications, I have been thinking about what it means to be a teacher. I figured out this is my 6th year of teaching and I have taught the poor black kids of north Minneapolis who ride Metro Transit to school and the rich white kids of Manhattan Beach who get dropped off in Mercedes Benz's (by their nanny). So I have some varying experiences to reflect on. Being the genious that I am, I did not even know what the word "philosophy" means... Okay, I think: Plato... scary college classes... and some stupid paper I cranked out at 4am when I was 19. I am assuming, "a set of values and ideas about __________." (Thank you, dictionary.com) And filling in that blank with the word "education" creates a black hole in my mind. The kind that sucks all inspiration out till all you hear is slurping and you are wondering why the waiter has not been to your table yet. Is a philosophy of education the usual bitching about the administration, being 2 years behind on contract negotiations, or the fact that you have 45 kids in your class? Or is it a state of mind like, "I believe that all children can learn no matter their race, socioeconomic background, or ability level?" Or is it, I put up with the kids because I have the summer off?
In talking with my coworker Dawn after school we discovered there truely is a difference between the lofty philosophy of teaching and the daily reality. Venture into one of my 10 third grade strings classes for a moment. I am teaching in the cafeteria while the custodian is cleaning up after lunch and pushing the tables back into the walls (not a quiet sound, by the way). It smells like sloppy joes. I have 47 3rd graders (set up in four rows of about twelve) and they each have a small crisis. It's the beginning of the year and they really are not into the routine just yet: I can't put on my shoulder rest, my instrument is out of tune, I have to use the bathroom, my sister broke my string, I left my book in the classroom, I need to get a drink, my mom did not drop off my instrument, I can't find my instrument, etc, etc, etc... (at this point I will leave out about ten more etcs here). Oh wait, I forgot to mention, this is after I had to run from teaching another class in another room across the school campus. Spork in my eye!!!
Actually, miracles do happen... Okay, so the learning of the song involved one child quietly crying because the pushing down of the strings hurt his fingers, another child's nose bleeding all over his violin, and a few wafts of kid-fart smell passing by my nose. But with only 8 seconds left before class was over, we played it!! Go me.
That day I came home and took a long nap. The meaning of life can wait till later...
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