It’s a little surreal—very, actually. Awhile ago I saw myself walk off the stage of UCC with a scroll in hand, and a mortarboard plastered to my head. Then again, awhile ago, the world began.
Tomorrow I return ‘home’, so to speak; only this time, I will have to earn my right to stay. I don’t have much to say right now—I probably will have a lot more to ramble about as the weeks roll on, if I can scavenge what scraps of time are left to me after they are shredded by the untold hours of lesson planning and resource hunting. But for the moment, I will perhaps make one resolution, which I hope will govern how I think, act, and perform (I don’t really like that word even though I know it is true to some extent).
While I am officially on my teaching practicum, there is a sense in which my career narrative has begun. With that in mind (without diminishing the assessment dimension of this experience), I will try my very best to conceive of practicum not as an ongoing examination, but an opportunity to begin working, and to settle down. In short, I will be working in my capacity as a teacher, and not as a student teacher gritting his teeth in indignation while slaving over lesson plans—hoping for reprieve—as though there were nothing but eternal rest beyond practicum. My work as an educator has begun; I very much prefer the term educator, because teacher seems to suggest that all we do is teach—something I feel is unhelpfully reductive.
I will set my desk right. I will know my students as much as I can. I will ease myself into a genuine workplace persona. Most importantly, I want to be happy while doing all these. I believe that there is some way to be exuberant at the eye of the storm, and I think it lies in envisioning the storm as a contouring force of nature that gives shape and meaning to what I do.