Friday, November 4, 2011

Week Ten: A Spiritual Occupation

In teaching my first formal lesson this week, I initially felt like I had more questions than answers. While I knew I had tools to use when things didn't go as planned (and most things went as planned so it wasn't necessary to use them), I also realized that I wanted MORE tools to choose from. The more experience you have in the classroom, the more tools you have developed to draw from, and the more successfully you can tackle problems when they DO arise. More strategies also means that you can implement ones that are more appropriate for a given situation. My lessons this week have also taken me on a personal journey as I attempt to view the positive (and sometimes mind-blowing) accomplishments of my students and ultimately come to the realization that (even if an activity doesn't go as planned) learning HAS occurred.

My professor's statement about teaching being a "spiritual occupation" stuck with me. It's something that I've been mulling over for the past couple of weeks, and I have to agree. I'm not sure I can describe why this is, but that I have no other explanation for the moments when I see that my students truly "get it", the feeling I get when I've taught a lesson, and the realization that I am happier on the days when I am in field and in a classroom, the days I am involved in my students' learning in one way or another. As I contemplated the implications of teaching as a "spiritual occupation" I couldn't help but wonder who else was affected by this statement; is teaching a spiritual occupation, and if not, how would you describe it?

2 comments:

  1. I had a classmate tell me this week that she didn’t want to be a teacher because she didn’t want to babysit or be subject to all the current political pressure. I can’t say I’m looking forward to those aspects of teaching myself. However, I couldn’t effectively articulate why the more difficult aspects of the teaching profession were far outweighed by its benefits. Teaching has to be a spiritual profession in order for its rewards to be explained. Long and frequently thankless hours and difficult meetings with parents, not to mention difficult class periods with students don’t exactly make teaching seem appealing. Yet, as you mention, nothing tangible or empirical can really explain the power of a student’s light bulb moment or the realization that true change has occurred. In the absence of such explanations, we are left with faith and spirituality. Admittedly it doesn’t offer much of an explanation either, but at least it names the unexplainable. As educators, we can’t be aware of which of our actions will create the greatest impact in our students’ lives. Similarly, our students won’t necessarily be aware of the learning that needs to be done until it has already occurred. Despite our best efforts, there are aspects of the learning process that can’t be described. The impact of participating in that process as a teacher presents an even greater linguistic puzzle. No words adequately describe what I feel or pinpoint what I am doing when I set foot in a classroom. Consequently, I turn to spirituality to offer the explanation and the validation for the profession I’ve chosen.

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