My mother is a fourth-grade teacher. As a graduate of high school, fourth grade seems forever ago. I can barely remember who I was and what I did when I was that little.
That isn't surprising to me though, considering I forget most thoughts that come into my head. I never expected that I would be submerged again into the elementary school world until my mother asked me to come to help out at their Field Day. I had a great time doing the activities with her students, and even learned a couple of their names. I thought that this would be the end of my experience until my mother asked me if I would be interested in helping out in the classroom. Originally I balked at the idea, but eventually, I caved in.
Disclaimer: I have always admired my teachers for putting up with me and my classmates, and have never once wanted or aspired to be in their position. This being said, I walked into the classroom with my packed lunch and visitor pass feeling overwhelmingly anxious. I wanted the students to like me and was nervous to meet them again in a non-outdoor setting. The day went well, I mostly observed my mother in action quietly, and tried to assist to the best of my abilities from the sideline. I only directly engaged with the students once during Math, when I sat at a back table and worked through the problems with a group of them. When they started to understand the method, I felt indescribably proud that I had been able to teach something.
I decided to come back the next day.
I ended up volunteering in my mother's classroom until the very last half-day of school. I tried to involve myself in the day-to-day affairs a little more each day and learned the names of everyone in the class. One of the days, my mother even let me lead the line to go to Physical Education and come back all by myself. I assisted the same group during Math, and I helped students make Google Slideshows about the environment during Science. The class had been growing some spinach in pots, and during one of the final days of school a representative from the FoodCorps came in to teach the class how to make a healthier version of pizza.
I won't lie and say that spinach as a pizza topping is great, but it is a better choice than pineapple for sure.
The lessons I learned and the things I gained from this experience were not enough to make me change my major, but they did force me to put teaching on the table as a career option for the first time. Seeing my mother in her element, handling challenges, and making the best out of every situation was inspiring. There is so much more preparation that goes on behind the scenes in a classroom than I imagined. My mother also rarely, if ever, got the chance to sit down. There was simply too much planning to do and questions to answer for her to catch a break. After watching her and the other teachers, it came as no surprise to me to witness them all celebrating in the hallways after the last student had left on the last day.
Being a teacher, or at least pretending to be one, was truly not what I expected.
It definitely takes a mental toll on a person, but the other faculty and staff are always right there to help. It was an excellent example of a team effort, with the teachers all sharing tips and ideas that they had found to be effective with their students. It was nothing like a group project from high school, where some members have to pick up the slack from others. Every single teacher seemed totally invested in educating the young minds in their classrooms.
