I am a teacher. Reflections from the rocking chair by the fire.

All photos dedicated to the city. Happy Birthday, Moscow!

Everyone gets to answer the question, at one point in one’s life, at least once. ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ On my personal wishlist, over the years, there were the following: a ballerina, a doctor, a woman (the first one), a plumber (that is the latest, my plan for the retirement years) and…a teacher. No idea if that means ‘no ambition whatsoever’ or ‘achievable aims’ but nevermind that. I am a teacher. Yay to these dreams that come true, tick!

I have been planning to write this post for a while but I’ve been struggling and what I ended up with was either a lot of sentimental waffle or some lofty speeches worthy of an educational Thomas Moore. No, thank you. Instead, I am going to hide behind a few stories, hoping that they will collectively illustrate why one might want to become a teacher.

There is a boy in this story, a local troublemaker, who actively spent his school time making his teachers’ life ‘interesting‘ for three years straight. There is always one of these in every class and someone has to be their teacher. The teacher and everyone else survived.

The same boy, fifteen years on (15!), meets the teacher’s brother at some kind of a social do in the hometown. ‘I was a nightmare at school‘, says the boy, already an adult, ‘Say hello to your sister and pass on my apologies‘.

There is another student, a girl this time, that the same brother meets at another do in the hometown. This student, years on, also asks the brother to pass her regards. ‘I don’t remember many teachers from the school.’, she says, ‘I do remember her. She was cool.’

There is an adult student, Olga, who gets in touch via Instagram and it turns out that she is also a teacher now and that seems to be inspired to become a teacher of English in the teacher’s classroom, about ten years earlier. And it nothing short of touching…

There is the first student ever, her own cousin, Magda, and the lessons which were based on pure enthusiasm and on intuition because the teacher was more of an ugly duckling and not yet a real professional. Now, imagine this teacher’s emotions when, a few years later, she was sitting in the hallways of the university, waiting for Magda to pass her final exams and to be awarded an MA in English and Translation.

There is a teenager, only a year ago, at the summer camp. This teenager fills in an anonymous feedback form and in her commentaries on the English lessons writes ‘I’m not scared anymore‘. To be honest, that reduces the teacher to tears because, really, although the lessons were good, she thinks ‘I have not done anything special‘, and yet, that seems to have made a difference.

There is the little girl, Sasha. After one of the lessons, this little girl comes up to her teacher, looks at her with a very serious face and says: ‘Anka, thank you very much for preparing such interesting activities for us‘.

It’s been a good few years already but the teacher still hasn’t recovered from the happy shock that this conversation was. The little people hardly ever do that. They will go for it, they will take part and leave the classroom happy. Sometimes, they might bring you a dead ladybird or donate the only balloon they have. Sometimes they may actually confess ‘Я Вас люблю‘.

Very often, though, as soon as they leave the group or change the school, they simply forget. Just forget. I like to think that they make room for new memories and new information. Out of sight, out of heart, without any metaphors. And no honourable mentions on the social media. But that’s ok, that’s simply how it is and it doesn’t matter. The teacher knows anyway that maybe she will not be remembered, but she did make a tiny little bit of a difference.

But there is more than just the blast from the past, more than just memories. There are the kids in the classroom, here and now. It is a good feeling to be looking at their progress test results. It feels great when they come back in September and proudly show the certificates they got from Cambridge.

It is even more beautiful when during the most regular lesson, you realise that the shiest and the quietest teenager in the world now leads the debate and presents winning arguments, with the confidence that could move the mountains. Or, that the student who entered the classroom five years ago to learn her first words, now is telling everyone about something that happened at school that morning, a hilarious story from the cafeteria, with the narration and the dialogue, with only a few grammar hiccups which are still to be expected since it is only A1 and she is only 9.

So, for a moment like one of these, the teacher is still a teacher.

And, now, as a reward, since you have lasted until the end of this post, here are all the articles that might come in handy in September.

Classroom management

Activities for the first lessons

Happy teaching!

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