My first year of teaching was an eye opener. Not only had I just graduated college and moved from a VERY small, working class, all Catholic, all white, New England town, but I could no longer get around on my bike, so at twenty-two years old, I bought my first car, I had to cook my own meals, pay my own bills, get used to a new boyfriend (bad mistake...long story....), and be totally responsible, plus I had moved to a very large, low income, culturally diverse, desert city in New Mexico, and now someone had decided I was mature enough to be responsible for 22, 3rd graders' education for a year.
College, by the way, did not prepare me for any of this.....
I wish...
* I'd lived on my own for a year...
* I'd worked in my home town for a year to get my feet wet...
* I continued on at 22 years of age, and got my masters degree....
* I'd substituted for a year....
* I'd been more mature...
* I'd taken assertiveness training...
* I could have adopted Cory....
No comments:
Post a Comment