First day of school. Wow. The stuff of legend. The stuff of which books are written.  The stuff that makes you want to go through 6 weeks of training, read multiple books on the subject, go to hundreds of hours of workshops, call and email every expert worth their spit, and compile it all into an extravagant, far-seeing plan…

…

Teaching, in my limited experience thusfar, is not a profession that “goes according to plan”.  *Sigh*. It wasn’t terrible. It really wasn’t. I did a lot of good. I got to know names and faces, I set a tone for my expectations, and I didn’t back down when multiple kids tried testing me (I set the expectation that everyone will participate in my class—and some people went out of their way to tell me ‘how dumb’ what we were doing was). They know I will not pass them by, or give in to their whims (no bathroom unless it is an emergency—though I did lose that one once already—she played the “I’m eight months pregnant card”, what could I say to that?). But, on the other hand, they saw that I was not in control of everything—even a most basic thing like what is homeroom for, or even when does the next period start or end. It. Was. Chaos (literally, all day, I had no idea how long I would have that class—one class lasted 5 minutes, my last class lasted 60).

Don’t get me wrong, my school is great. It really is.  These people care. But I just don’t know how to react when they send me off to what I thought was my first period class, and it turns out to be a homeroom that I was told nothing about, and lasts for an unspecified amount of time. Totally threw off my groove. But, tomorrow is another day.