I’m a Teacher

Last week was the beginning of my teaching career. Students flooded the front doors, handbooks were dispersed, and pencils were sharpened. But I still can’t believe I’m actually doing this.

I’m a teacher.

Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the title. It’s surreal. I’ve spent the last four years preparing for this career and I still feel like a college student. When I went to my first class, I took roll instead of raising my hand and saying, “Here.” When I should have been packing up to move into the dorms, I packed up to move into my classroom.

packing

I’m a teacher.

I have been attending more teacher meetings than I can keep track of. Handout after handout has been given to me and I’m responsible for the information. “Incorporate it now.” It’s my responsibility to make sure the students know material encompassed in the standards. They need to pass the common assessment.

I’m a teacher.

Twenty-six pairs of eyes are on me to deliver knowledge. In the back of my mind I hear voices from the last four years:

Make it interesting and hook them with your lesson.

Don’t compromise who you are as a teacher.

Keep a handle on the classroom or they’ll get a handle on you.

I’m a teacher.

I have all the pieces of the puzzle, but I don’t know what to do with them. I’ve been reassured that it will all come together, and I know it will.

I’m overwhelmed.

And I know it.

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