Friday, October 03, 2003
"The trouble with first impressions is that you only get to make one."
Beginnings have always proven a challenge to me, both in writing and in life. Perhaps that is why I initially procrastinated when I considered starting an online journal, despite a long time interest in the enterprise. As I began to write this evening, I flipped through the volumes on my bookshelf searching for an effective hook in the writings of Joyce, Warren, and Heller or a creative blog title in the hidden mysteries of Lewis Carroll and Edgar Allan Poe. I pored over the archives of other people's web logs and examined how they commenced their respective literary journeys through cyberspace. But to no avail. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but the responsibility must ultimately fall on me to set the right tone for this blog. So, I'll begin with an introduction and an explanation, so that you (whoever you are) may know something about who I am and why I thought this would be a worthwhile venture.
My name is Ben, and I am currently working as a teacher in an urban school. People often wonder when I mention my profession whether or not teaching was a lifelong goal of mine. And as I sit here now after a month in this position, I wish deeply that I could respond positively to that question. I wish that I could say that it has always been my dream to be a teacher, to reach out into the community and improve the lives and minds of children. Perhaps in that ideal context, I would describe my vast student teaching experience and list off a slew of teaching strategies that have proven, on the whole, effective, with only one or two students finding the material challenging. My classroom in this utopian fantasy, would have ready access to all manner of materials and my lesson plans would always be well tuned, well rehearsed, and well written. And in that world, what few difficulties I had would not be further compounded by a lack of parental involvement and the educational experiences that students received before reaching my classroom.
But that world is not my world.
My world is a classroom at an underresourced public school in Philadelphia. What limited teaching experience I might have had did not and perhaps could not have prepared me for the challenges of the position. In fairness, I suppose I knew the job was dangerous when I took it, but at the same time, the gap between knowledge and understanding is often a wide one, as I learn each and every day.
My name is Ben. I graduated from an Ivy League school with a degree in history.
I was initially told I would be teaching social studies in the district, but that opportunity was snatched away within a month of my decision to work in the city.
I have never taught history. At the rate things are going with me these days, I likely never will.
In the past few months, I have taught English as a second language, briefly, and now I teach science.
Rather, I pretend to teach science. Physical science and physics, to be precise. That's 2 classes, 10 lesson plans a week. Each class lasts 90 minutes thanks to block scheduling (more on that perhaps in future posts), and I also have graduate courses to attend. In short, my job has in large part consumed my life.
I generally get about 4 hours of sleep a night. Last night I got 5.
My name is Ben and after a month in an urban classroom, I have learned much but simultaneously realize how very little I know. And I write now not of science content knowledge but of the skills needed to run an effective classroom. I was given an intensive teacher training program, but it provided me with only a glimpse at what my ideal classroom should be. Through a glass and darkly, as someone once wrote, I saw what the future held, but not clearly enough that I could truly prepare for it.
The names that I use when discussing my teaching situation will be anonymous, on the off chance that any of my students or fellow teachers should stumble upon these words in their searches on the Internet or what have you. It is likely that some of what I say will be negative, and I do not wish to offend. Only to report my perceptions on the extraordinary situation into which I have inadvertently plunged myself. My idealism has at times been thoroughly shattered these past few weeks. And many days it feels as though I can no longer effectively keep my thoughts bottled in.
On to the page then! Be it silicon or on paper...On to the page where I can lay bare my passions and frustrations! On to the page and to hell with the consequences! Because once it is in print, tangible or otherwise, it becomes real. It has meaning, or at the least staying power. That, I hope answers, at least in part, the question of why I started this journal.
Because my name is Ben, and I am a nobody, an invisible person with no effect on the world at all. Or perhaps I am an everybody, an untapped potentiality of a person capable of shaping society for the better. A person of moderate ability asked to complete a noble, but perhaps impossible task, to soldier on whatever the cost with only a dream of eventual respite to guide him. In what form that respite will come...who knows? Yet still it guides us.
My name is Ben, and this is my story.
A pleasure to meet you.
Beginnings have always proven a challenge to me, both in writing and in life. Perhaps that is why I initially procrastinated when I considered starting an online journal, despite a long time interest in the enterprise. As I began to write this evening, I flipped through the volumes on my bookshelf searching for an effective hook in the writings of Joyce, Warren, and Heller or a creative blog title in the hidden mysteries of Lewis Carroll and Edgar Allan Poe. I pored over the archives of other people's web logs and examined how they commenced their respective literary journeys through cyberspace. But to no avail. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but the responsibility must ultimately fall on me to set the right tone for this blog. So, I'll begin with an introduction and an explanation, so that you (whoever you are) may know something about who I am and why I thought this would be a worthwhile venture.
My name is Ben, and I am currently working as a teacher in an urban school. People often wonder when I mention my profession whether or not teaching was a lifelong goal of mine. And as I sit here now after a month in this position, I wish deeply that I could respond positively to that question. I wish that I could say that it has always been my dream to be a teacher, to reach out into the community and improve the lives and minds of children. Perhaps in that ideal context, I would describe my vast student teaching experience and list off a slew of teaching strategies that have proven, on the whole, effective, with only one or two students finding the material challenging. My classroom in this utopian fantasy, would have ready access to all manner of materials and my lesson plans would always be well tuned, well rehearsed, and well written. And in that world, what few difficulties I had would not be further compounded by a lack of parental involvement and the educational experiences that students received before reaching my classroom.
But that world is not my world.
My world is a classroom at an underresourced public school in Philadelphia. What limited teaching experience I might have had did not and perhaps could not have prepared me for the challenges of the position. In fairness, I suppose I knew the job was dangerous when I took it, but at the same time, the gap between knowledge and understanding is often a wide one, as I learn each and every day.
My name is Ben. I graduated from an Ivy League school with a degree in history.
I was initially told I would be teaching social studies in the district, but that opportunity was snatched away within a month of my decision to work in the city.
I have never taught history. At the rate things are going with me these days, I likely never will.
In the past few months, I have taught English as a second language, briefly, and now I teach science.
Rather, I pretend to teach science. Physical science and physics, to be precise. That's 2 classes, 10 lesson plans a week. Each class lasts 90 minutes thanks to block scheduling (more on that perhaps in future posts), and I also have graduate courses to attend. In short, my job has in large part consumed my life.
I generally get about 4 hours of sleep a night. Last night I got 5.
My name is Ben and after a month in an urban classroom, I have learned much but simultaneously realize how very little I know. And I write now not of science content knowledge but of the skills needed to run an effective classroom. I was given an intensive teacher training program, but it provided me with only a glimpse at what my ideal classroom should be. Through a glass and darkly, as someone once wrote, I saw what the future held, but not clearly enough that I could truly prepare for it.
The names that I use when discussing my teaching situation will be anonymous, on the off chance that any of my students or fellow teachers should stumble upon these words in their searches on the Internet or what have you. It is likely that some of what I say will be negative, and I do not wish to offend. Only to report my perceptions on the extraordinary situation into which I have inadvertently plunged myself. My idealism has at times been thoroughly shattered these past few weeks. And many days it feels as though I can no longer effectively keep my thoughts bottled in.
On to the page then! Be it silicon or on paper...On to the page where I can lay bare my passions and frustrations! On to the page and to hell with the consequences! Because once it is in print, tangible or otherwise, it becomes real. It has meaning, or at the least staying power. That, I hope answers, at least in part, the question of why I started this journal.
Because my name is Ben, and I am a nobody, an invisible person with no effect on the world at all. Or perhaps I am an everybody, an untapped potentiality of a person capable of shaping society for the better. A person of moderate ability asked to complete a noble, but perhaps impossible task, to soldier on whatever the cost with only a dream of eventual respite to guide him. In what form that respite will come...who knows? Yet still it guides us.
My name is Ben, and this is my story.
A pleasure to meet you.
