Monthly Archives: May 2012

Teaching > Teacher

Posted on by jennwhitley

Let’s be cliché for a moment: sometimes life throws you curveballs and you just have to go with the flow, roll with the punches, and turn lemons into lemonade.

Now let’s just be real: I turned in my resignation letter yesterday, fully understanding it meant future insecurity. My only anxiety, though, is not a result of regret. I believe I did the right thing, but as I sit in my empty classroom, I wonder: will I survive? Can I actually walk away from teaching?

Education can be treacherous. Sure, kids can be rude, disrespectful and immature, but that’s not the problem. It’s the politics. Who knew teaching was political? From the outside, it looks like an easy job: go to work, assign some reading, grade some papers, take summers off.

But, that’s just what they want you to think. What you don’t see, though, are the hours of lesson planning; the administrators breathing down your back; the doom of standardized tests; the injustice, the blame, the scandal, oh my! For what — a salary? I think not.

I did not become a teacher to memorize the Georgia Performance Standards, or hold meetings on how to create the perfect essential question, or to coach basketball. I love literature, writing and people — and I’m pretty good at relaying that sentiment. When did that stop being enough?

Will I miss being a teacher? No. However, I’m going to miss the heck out of teaching.

JJ

I turned this in today:

Posted on by jennwhitley

May 16, 2012

To whom it may concern,

It is one of the hardest things I’ve had to do this year not to sign this contract. Over the last four years, teaching has become my life. I love the kids, fellow educators, and my subject. However, what I’ve had to accept is: my husband and my family come first. I cannot sustain a life with him on a half-time contract. I am honored to have been offered one in the first place – I know the county had to make many cuts this year, so it says a lot that you offered me one at all. Still, though, I must worry about my finances, as my husband will begin pharmacy school this fall.

Thank you for a wonderful year. Teaching at the Career Academy has been a dream – I had amazing resources, incredible students and a wonderful faculty to work with. I don’t know what I will do next year; however, I know teaching is most likely out of the question, as every county is in the same financial bind as us. Therefore, I would also like to thank you for making my last year of teaching the best one I’ve had so far. I learned so much that will prepare me for any endeavor set before me. I will miss the very essence of teaching, but I know I will teach again one day, maybe after I complete my PhD, or once the economy decides to make a comeback.

Please keep me in mind if a full-time English or Special Education position becomes available. This letter is not a “goodbye” to Clarke County forever; it is merely a statement that I must find something that betters suits my needs next year. I hope we can work together again in the future – in fact, I’m counting on it.

Thank you, again, for everything. I will miss all the people who made this last year great.

Sincerely,

Jennifer J. Whitley

The Last Monday

Posted on by jennwhitley

I remember my first day of teaching. I wore a really cute (but professional) outfit. I did my hair and makeup in a fashion that transformed my childish face. I had all my copies made and syllabi placed into perfectly rectangular piles on the front desk. I had my “game-face” on; I wasn’t going to smile until Christmas.

I had no clue what I was doing.

That changed, though. I can honestly say I am a good teacher. In the past, I had administrators who tried to convince me otherwise, but I know the truth, now. I had to leave my comfort zone in order to see it. No, I do not “go by the book.” I never have. I’ve made teaching my own and I will miss it if God chooses a different path for me next year.

I’ve been placed in an awkward situation. No one (within an hour of driving) is hiring. Print is going out, so newspapers aren’t hiring. I have three choices: accept the half-time contract from Clarke County, possibly work at Clinique full-time (for about the same pay as teaching half-time), or choose an alternate route.

I was supposed to have my answer by Friday, but received an apologetic email saying it would “take more time,” instead. This state of career-purgatory is driving me crazy. I wish I knew where I would be next year. I know I’m not working on my time, but I wish God’s truth would be revealed sooner rather than later. I know: I’m impatient.

I may not know about my future, but I do know this: today is the last official day of school — the last Monday. I don’t know if this is my last day teaching or not, but I must treat it as such in order to live for today. After all, we don’t know where we’ll be tomorrow. And if tomorrow doesn’t come, all we can do is be happy we lived for the present and not waited for the future — or, at least, didn’t waste our time worrying about it.

Hello (again), Monday. I am going to seize you.

JJ

To all my seniors:

Posted on by jennwhitley

If there was one thing I wanted to teach you, it wasn’t English. If there was one thing I wanted to demonstrate, it wasn’t MLA style. If there was one thing I wanted to show you, it wasn’t a textbook.

No, teaching — to me — is not something that derives from the Georgia Performance Standards. It isn’t a lecture, a quiz or a literary circle. It isn’t a standardized test or preparing for the SAT. Maybe all those things matter, but what matters most is this: my class isn’t about grades, but about relationships.

I agree wholly with the saying, “Students don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.” I am not an award-winning journalist, or a best-selling novelist (yet), but I can tell you this: what you learned in my class matters. Not just because it’s important to be literate, but because I hope you learned something other than how to effectively create a ToonDoo.

I hope you leave with confidence — in yourself and in your abilities. Each and every one of you have potential. It is your choice to work hard, overcome obstacles and step up to that potential. Or, to play it safe and harbor a constant “what if…” in the back of your mind.

From this point forward, you will not have someone holding your hand; you will not have someone nagging you about missing work, going to school on time or getting to bed early. You will be solely responsible for your actions. Don’t make excuses. In fact, don’t have a reason to make excuses. Prove your teachers wrong. Prove your friends wrong — show us that you can do it alone. I dare you.

I know I act like i’m really excited for summer to begin, but I know that once it does, the school year will end, and you will go with it. It breaks my heart a little every time — especially for those of you with whom I shared a real conversation, a burst of laughter, or an honest confrontation. You all have a special place in my heart.

I ask you to consider Ralph Waldo Emerson’s challenge: “Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” I have already said what I didn’t want to teach you this year, here is what I do: be perfectly content with being yourself.

I’ll leave you with this: too many people find their identities in imitating others. Don’t be that person. Always be true to yourself, and lose the things in your life that cause you to stray. After all, you only live once — might as well live it your way.

God bless you,

Mrs. Whitley

One of Those Days

Posted on by jennwhitley

Would you like to hear about my morning? Well, I’ll tell you, anyway.

Let me first say: I worked eight hours at school yesterday and four and a half hours at Clinique last night. It was only my second day working the counter, but two girls called in sick, so I was running the Clinique, Estée Lauder and Bobbi Brown counters practically by myself. Needless to say, I was tired this morning.

When I woke up, I felt aches all over. I felt the remnants of sleep tugging at my eyes. I did not feel refreshed and ready to seize the day. However, I got up and tried my best to look presentable. When I was walking out the door, I checked the mirror and noticed my wrinkled sweater. I considered it for a moment, and gave in. Frustrated, I climbed the mountain of stairs to iron it.

I began my trek to the door once again, only to hear a strange, loud, muffled sound. I look out the window and apparently, in between my sweater-considering and sweater-ironing, the clouds decided to let their bottoms fall out. So, I checked the time, and decided to make some coffee.

I guess I was really excited about the coffee. When I reached for it, I reached too hard and knocked it over … on me. It was hot. I just finished ironing my sweater and my husband completed final exams yesterday, so I didn’t want to wake him trying to find a new outfit. So, I grabbed the Shout and scrubbed at my sweater, dress and leggings for five minutes before giving up. Too bad coffee stains tend to stick.

I snatched my purse, lunch and new cup of coffee (I needed one by now) and stormed to my car. Wet from rain and steaming from frustration, I cranked my car and noticed an orange icon smirking at me: the gas light. Seriously? I may have started my morning early, but by now, I needed to get to work. I bustled my way through the rain, praying I would not become stranded on the side of the road, gasless, and desperate in this downpour.

I got to school safely. My dress was dry. My sweater needed ironing again, but it smelled like coffee, so (in my mind) that evened it out. No one was hurt, and as I started brainstorming my blog for the day, I realized: I overreacted. Shocking, I know.

So, today is not a bad day; nor is it going to be one. It’s just another day, like all the others.

JJ

“Probably” Doesn’t Cut It

Posted on by jennwhitley

I have a lot on my mind right now.

For instance, I should probably grade papers. I should probably fill out job applications. I should probably write graduation letters. I should probably get more sleep. I should probably finish the laundry that has been piling up for two weeks — and even when it is clean, it just goes into the “clean pile,” so I should probably fold it, too. There are a lot of things I should probably be doing right now, but I’m not doing them. I’m writing. Why? Because I’m a procrastinator.

Don’t get me wrong, I have motivation. I am probably one of the most motivated people on the planet. I have dreams and aspirations that push me to do my best every day (well, in most cases). Those same desires have instilled a sense of worth in me. However, my wants aren’t always my needs. Why is it that we want things we don’t need? Or, better yet, why are we upset when we don’t get those wants? Come on, I know I’m not the only one…

What’s worse: even when I get what I want, I’m rarely satisfied. It’s not that I’m jealous of others; I try not to find worth in myself by comparing what I’ve done with others’ accomplishments. However, if I achieve a goal, it is hard for me to celebrate. Instead, I make another one and brush off the accomplishment as something that “had to happen.” I didn’t walk at graduation for my undergraduate degree because it was not an accomplishment to me, but a necessity (“everyone” goes to college nowadays).

I think Oscar Wilde said it best: “There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.” There is always a sadness that accompanies disappointment; even if you know what you want is impossible to obtain. However, instead of being disappointed in ourselves — or disappointed when we don’t get what we want — why can’t we stop and celebrate when we do accomplish something? I love to celebrate my friends’ and family’s achievements; why can’t I celebrate my own? And when we get what we want, why can’t we be satisfied, instead of moving on to the next desire?

There is one way, though, to avoid some disappointment, which brings me to my next point: why does procrastination exist? If something needs to be done, it should be done with no excuses. Wants should rarely be placed before needs; yet, we do it every day — me especially. I have way too many “probablys” floating around me — I could probably do this; I probably need to do that. It’s time to erase the “probably” out of my life and turn those “probablys” into actions.

I have already taken the first step of identifying the problem. What’s next? Well, I suppose I’ll fold some laundry when I get home. I will grade papers today after school, and I will try my best to get more sleep. All I can do is accomplish reasonable goals and push myself to achieve more. No, I’m probably not going to be the first female president of the United States. However, I probably will graduate with my PhD and see where life takes me from there. I look forward to it.

JJ

Hello, Monday

Posted on by jennwhitley

I received some news Friday: because of major budget cuts, my teaching position has been moved from full to half-time.

While I could be excited, because this gives me more time to focus on my PhD, “half-time” means “half-pay,” and “half-pay” will not pay the bills.

My initial reaction to this news was – let’s just say – not pleasant. I began writing this entry on Friday, but decided I needed to put things into perspective before I published it. Here is Friday’s work:

Three months ago, I was told that I had nothing to worry about – that I’d be “taken care of.” Three months ago, I was lied to.

Let me back up: the economy is bad, which directly affects the educational system. We, the teachers of Clarke County, were informed that many “changes” were coming. Those “changes” turned out to be major cuts to every program. 

Being my first year in Clarke County, which proposed a system of seniority as the basis of the “changes,” I expected to be at the bottom of the list. That is, until I was told I had “nothing to worry about.”

So, I became hopeful. I told my husband, mother and friends that, while our district is in hot water, I will not drown with it. Just in case, though, I made plans for the future – I applied to a few teaching positions within acceptable driving distance, and a few administrative positions at UGA. Thank goodness.

Today, I had a visit from the Grimm Reaper telling me my position has been cut in half and I will be moved to Clarke Central. I am perfectly fine with the move – Central is a great school. However, how can I take care of myself and my family on half of what I currently make? This will not do.

I stopped writing because I felt like the entry was turning into a vent session, and that is not what I set out to do. I know God is in control – and with an acceptance into a fifth-in-the-nation PhD program (that should guarantee me a job in curriculum development and/or a university teaching position), maybe he is telling me something.

I have already discussed the “nagging sense” tugging at the back of my mind, telling me I should be doing something else than, or in addition to, teaching. Things are falling into place to make that happen. Even if I accept the offer, and teach half-time, I know I will find a way to make it. Thankfully, God is in control, not I.

Goodbye Friday’s disappointment. Hello Monday’s hopefulness.

JJ

Goodbye “Teacher Mode”

Posted on by jennwhitley

Today in class, a guest speaker told my students he wanted to “take the gloves off” and “be real.” He wasn’t kidding. He rolled up his sleeves, played a few popular rap songs, encouraged students to sing along (to lyrics not found on the radio), and asked: “How do you feel?” “Well, why do you think high school classes aren’t ‘crunk?’”

What happened next was chaos … but I kind of liked it. Kids started lowering their walls. They laughed, sang along, responded with excitement — and ultimately showed me their true selves.

It made me think: why aren’t we more “real” with people? Why do we have to “play roles” in every aspect of our lives? Each day, I have to go into “teacher mode” come 8 a.m. Believe me, my husband reminds me if I’m still in “teacher mode” when I come home. However, wouldn’t life be so much less complicated if we were only one version of ourselves — the real version?

I am going to try and be more me around everyone. If they don’t like it, I suppose they can get over it. There is a stigma of how a teacher should act. But, times have changed. People are encouraged to be individuals, not societal clones that bid the majority’s will. There is no “Big Brother.” We do not have to appease the “World State.” The “Capitol” is not going to burn us for being ourselves. If we don’t knock down stereotypes, how are they to disappear? I will start with myself, but I challenge you to do the same.

Peace out, “teacher mode.” I’m going to revert back to my true self — just Jenn.

JJ

Well … there you go.

Posted on by jennwhitley

Have you ever had a moment in life when you knew everything would be okay? There may be odds against you, people standing in your way, finances out-of-order, but something happens that tells you you’re on the right path — and it takes any doubt away (?).

I had that moment today.

Yesterday, I was torn between my current career and all the possibilities for my future. Today, I received an acceptance letter from a PhD program I knew I’d be rejected from. What? You said there were only four openings — I’m not that impressive, so how did I make the cut? Isn’t it funny how life makes choices for you?

My goal is to write every day. However, I’m still too shocked to say much. But, I know this: my life is not in my hands. I can have wants, desires and dreams, but there is a higher power at work here and I am so happy He is in control. What would happen if my indecisive self actually planned my future? Chaos.

All glory be to God.

JJ

I guess it depends on your definition.

Posted on by jennwhitley

I always wanted to be important.

As a child, I treasured reading about Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny’s mysterious adventures, hoping one day I, too, could be abandoned in a boxcar and live an exciting life. As an adolescent, I daydreamed about immersing myself in Harry Potter’s world, where a day would not go by without the need of my miraculous and magical powers. As a teenager, I dreamed of finding love in Austen, hope in C. S. Lewis and adventure in my own imagination. Growing up, I lived a life vicariously through others; I never thought about what I wanted to do. I only knew one thing: I was going to be important — I just didn’t know how or why.

I didn’t change much.

I went to college to become a doctor, and as I cruised out of Athens with a crisp English degree in my hands, I just knew I’d be a writer. And … I was. I wrote a couple of articles for a local newspaper, but I was planning a wedding, and forty bucks a pop is not enough to sustain any lifestyle, much less an “adult one” with bills, rent and a pair of 2007 Gucci platform patent leather stilettos. So, I started subbing. I stumbled across a long-term substitute position as a high school English teacher, and when I was offered a full-time position after my 12 weeks were up, I jumped at the opportunity of a real paycheck.

My first year of teaching was rough.

Without an education degree, I had no clue what I was getting myself into. My ideas were great, but I struggled to put them into relevant lessons for my students. My motivation was high, but my classroom management skills lacked consistency. Thankfully, a friend told me I had to give teaching at least two years to “work out the kinks.” I enrolled in a Master of Arts in Teaching program at North Georgia College and State University, where I learned how to translate my ideas into creative lesson plans and how to handle a classroom full of teenagers without driving myself crazy.

My friend was right.

It took two years to develop an effective collection of lesson plans, best practices and classroom rules. Once I learned how to be a teacher, I found my identity in becoming one. Of course I still love getting lost in a book and pursuing enlightenment through writing; however, I do not have to live vicariously through other characters. Instead, I’m living my own adventure every day. It may not be glamorous to Hollywood’s standards, but I have found my importance in the eyes of my students. I’m not quite the “important” I wanted to be, but I still have time to work some magic — and I plan to.

But … if I’ve found my calling, why do I feel so restless?

If I am supposed to teach for the rest of my life, why do I keep looking for job openings at local magazines, newspapers, colleges and online forums? I love my kids. I love teaching English. Don’t get me wrong, I love summers off and two weeks vacation for Christmas. However, I cannot help but feel like there is something more I should be doing. It doesn’t have to be instead of teaching, but maybe in addition to it. On another note, I can’t believe I am twenty-six years old and still wondering what to do when I “grow up.” Hasn’t that happened already? If not, when is it supposed to? My clock is ticking, yet my mind remains still.

I have decided on one thing, though.

Life is not what we make it out to be. There is no “personal legend,” because childhood dreams change. With every new book, every touching movie, every emotional song, I have a new dream. Even now, as I pursue acceptance into a doctoral degree, I wonder: is this really for me? Will this really satiate my hunger for more? Is there really a cure for curiosity? Am I going to drive myself crazy asking so many questions I have no answer for? Probably. If I know one thing about me, though, it’s that I will not give up. I am not giving up on me and I am not giving up on my dreams — whatever they may be (or, whenever).

So … I want to be “important.”

However, in order to do that — be important, I mean — I must prove it to myself. I can be a great teacher, wonderful student, loving wife, thoughtful daughter, supportive sister and loyal friend, but I’ve found that if I keep identifying myself through everything but myself, I will never be satisfied. It is too easy to build an identity upon the things surrounding you. I want to identify myself through me … my interests, my personality, my happiness. I don’t want to be merely Jennifer “the teacher” or Jennifer “the writer.” I want to be me, the person … just Jenn.

I think I am finally ready to put my books down and start writing my own story.

Now, if only I could conjure an identity for this blog…

JJ