First Day Jitters and Joy

It's day one, again. 

It's my 10th first day teaching at Dordt.

It's my 24th first day of teaching, overall.

It's my 40th first day of school in my life(??!!)

I still get the first day jitters. The anxious excitement of meeting up with students is still real. It's still palpable. The anticipation of what is to come, the joy of meeting up with new students, and the fear of the yet-unknown things I will encounter all come together. I want it to be a great experience for my students. I want it to be a great experience for me too.

There are some things that have become "normal" for me as an instructor. I have some go-to moves that I use on the first day, and a lesson plan for the first class meeting in Intro to Education (always my first course of the semester!) that is dialed in, tightly planned, and gets students both actively involved and gives them a feel for who I am as their teacher and how the course "works." 

And yet...

...I feel the jitters.

Teaching is work full of anticipation and excitement and all the "maybes" that haven't yet found fulfillment, at least not for this time through the syllabus. It's meaningful work. It's joyful work.

Obligatory first day of school photo, yeah?

Class went great today, by the way. The first moments flew by, and I got the jitters out.

Students were responsive, and interactive, and seemed excited to be there too.

All good things...and their jitters seemed to be relieved as well.

Day 2 tomorrow...fewer jitters, probably. Just as much joy, almost certainly!

Concluding a Course: "Sparkiness" in the Classroom

I'm having a bit of a hard time today as I'm working on my end-of-semester grading. It's not that the students have written poorly, or that they aren't showing evidence of their learning--quite the contrary, actually! But I'm having a hard time because I am wrapping up teaching Elementary Science Methods right now, and it's likely going to be the last time I teach this course, at least for a while.

Why is this so hard for me? Well...because I've taught the course 22 times. I started teaching this course as an adjunct instructor back in 2006, and I've taught it every time it's been offered at our institution since then. My quick math says almost 500 students have taken this course with me in that time, which is pretty ridiculous to imagine, now that I'm thinking about it! While I never feel like I have any course "in my back pocket," this is the one that I know inside-out, because I've taught it so many times. And while the course has obviously evolved over 22 iterations, and while I keep bringing in new ideas, and activities, and things to read and discuss...it's also one that feels very comfortable, because I've lived in it for so long.

At the same time, I recognize it's been more than a decade since I taught middle school science on a daily basis at this point. And I have many other hats I wear in our department, many other courses and projects that I'm part of or in charge of. And so, it's likely time for this one to get handed off to a colleague, and with a new member of our department joining us in the fall, it is time for someone else to take this one.

But there is a sense of grieving for me, recognizing that this is likely my last go at this course for awhile. I think it's because I identify quite strongly with this course in some ways, because it's been part of my life for such a long time. There have been times where this course has felt like work, to be sure. But it has been joyful work for me. I love studying creation, and teaching others about it, and teaching teachers how to foster a love of creation in their own students. 

And so, I'm struggling a bit as I grade these final summative projects from the semester, but realizing that this is more about how I feel than about my students' learning. Because you know what? They are taking away some really fantastic things! So many of them are sharing specific things that made a difference for them in the way they think about science as a subject, or about themselves as teachers, or their future teaching practices. Many of them are naming specific ideas or activities from class that they want to use with their own students. I love this! It's humbling to think about the 500-ish students I've had the pleasure of teaching over the years all taking things they learned from my class and using them with their own students. (Ooof. Gives a real sense of the responsibility we have as teacher educators!)

One student wrapped up her final paper with a personal note that just made me grin:

To finish off, the last thing I learned in this course that I want to take with me would be to get my students excited. Your attitude that you brought everyday got us excited. The questions that you would ask and the activities you would follow up with would make us excited. You always brought your all and that was evident when we were learning from you. Even maybe if you were not excited about the content, you “faked” it and you made us excited in return. Or maybe I was tired a day and the energy you brought defiantly helped keep my attention. I think that students need to have that sense of fun in their day and to not always be so serious. Your constant level of "sparkiness" and fun attitude is something that I want to carry with me. 

You know, I'll take that! If nothing else, I hope and trust that my own enthusiasm for teaching, and the way I model this craft for them rubs off on them a little bit. 

And I think I'll be okay not teaching this course anymore. I'll still be bringing my "sparkiness" to all of the classrooms where I have the opportunity to teach!

Image via pixabay.

On Being Seriously Silly

 I saw this one on Twitter today from the eminent Sir John Cleese:

Always be the silliest in any group. 😃 #tbt pic.twitter.com/oMJu876Wsz

— John Cleese (@JohnCleese) April 22, 2021

(Just in case you aren't familiar...John Cleese is one of the members of the ground-breaking British comedy troupe, Monty Python. This photo is of the group as they looked in the early days--maybe late 1960s or early 70s?--and Cleese is the one grinning like a fool. They may have had their heyday in the 70s and 80s, but this group has had a huge impact on media and culture far beyond the British Isles.)

I love it! I think this is a rule that I live by, and I didn't even realize it until I saw it written this way.

I revel in silliness. 

I play the ukulele.

I yo-yo as I walk across campus.

I get my Intro to Ed students to try juggling in class.

I exhibit a manic energy in teaching my Elementary Science Methods course.

At one of the summer camps I serve (shout-out to Royal Family Kids!) I dress up in a banana costume and sing ridiculous songs...and somehow get the whole group of campers and staff to play along and sing and dance with me.

Not atypical for me to look like this (at camp, at least...)

Something I've tried to embody--and to pass along to my students, future teachers that they are--is that I should take my WORK very seriously...but I try to not take MYSELF too seriously. 

Not that I want to be the butt of every joke, or anything like that. And I'm not just trying to be self-deprecating all the time. After all, I do want my students to have confidence in me as their teacher, and I want my colleagues to have confidence in me as someone who is reliable, and trustworthy, and an active contributor to important work.

But...I also want to be able to bring levity, positivity, and joy to my work! And I think I (generally) embody this quite well.

My big wondering right now: do people take me seriously even when I am silly?

I guess I'm thinking about this from a John Cleese sort of frame. He is one of the best in the world at what he does--he takes his comedy seriously, and has honed his craft over decades of work. Maybe my teaching practice isn't all that different?

Can I be seriously silly?

Merry Christmas (And All That Stuff)

2020 has been weird, weird year. If you've spent any time at all on social media, I'm sure you've seen all the posts and tweets and reels and memes about how this year has been the absolute worst. And, yeah, I feel that too. It's been an emotionally taxing year for me in almost every way. And yet, there has been good, and beauty, and surprises.

In the month of December I've started several posts for the blog, and ended up discarding a couple of them, and saving a few as pieces of string I might unspool in a future post. But I didn't want to end the year on a down note...and most of the posts I had been writing were cynical or downright grumpy.

But, against all odds, I found some Christmas cheer this year.

My church has had rough times this year, but our traditional Christmas Eve service was exactly what I needed. Singing carols, celebrating communion, and a hope-filled message helped me reframe and remember just how much I love these people I worship with each Sunday.

Several of my family members have moved to the same small town where I live this year, which meant spending time with loved ones I don't typically get to see at Christmas. This was a joy!

I've made deliberate time to rest, to do unproductive things. This has been an exercise in intentionality, as I typically strive to be as productive as possible to feed my inner achiever. (Ah, the joys of being an Enneagram 3...) But over the past week or so, I've taken a lot more time to read for pleasure, to play games, to spend time with my wife and kids...and none of this is wasted.

Silly as it might sound, the hyped-up "Christmas Star" conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn was a lovely reminder that the world is a wonderful place. The science teacher in me marveled at this celestial moment, and the child in me was reminded of just how much I love astronomy. (Seeing Halley's Comet in 1986 left an impression!)

I am seriously thinking about starting a podcast with a colleague in the coming year, and I've found joy in brainstorming about what this could look like. Working with colleagues who continually inspire me to sharpen up and keep learning has been--and continues to be--a tremendous blessing.

Even the blizzard we experienced in Northwest Iowa this past week was a surprise blessing. I have realized I feel disappointed now if we don't have snow at Christmas (which is a little weird for this former Californian!) and it was looking like it was going to be a brown Christmas for us this year...until we got six inches of snow chased by a ferocious wind two days before!

I'm generally a pretty positive person, but the stresses of this year have gotten me down. I suspect I'm not alone in this. 

But I hope that you, dear reader, were able to find joy in the midst of a hard year. I wish you a Merry Christmas; I hope you are able to experience a sense of hope, and peace, and joy, and love as we close out 2020.

From our mudroom letter board to you...

Lament and Joy and COVID-19

I have been so busy. So, so busy. It's weird that in a season when so many things have been cancelled so we can keep distance, I have felt as busy as ever.

Pivoting online has meant extra work in some ways, and different work in others. Working mostly from home has been good, overall, but it means a lot of distractions from my kids and my dog.

As you can see, he is very distracting to me as I work from the couch.

I've been wanting to blog more during this time, to capture my thoughts and feelings and document them somehow for the future. I've been wanting to write more words of encouragement to folks who are new to distance teaching, since that's something I know a bit about, and have things I could share.
I've been wanting to take time to write about things other than the current pandemic crisis.

But here I am, about a month since my last post, and feeling a little glum about it.

Truth is, I've realized I'm in a season of lament. I am grieving things that feel "lost."

This doesn't mean I haven't still felt deep joy as well. But I am lamenting the state of the world, and the state of our country, and the state of my own situation.

I am a Yellow Crayon

At a meeting last night, my friend, Ruth, gave me a yellow crayon...

This is my crayon. (Thanks, Ruth!)

She gave it to me because--her words--I am a positive, sunny person who spreads joy to everyone around me.

This seriously warmed my heart.

Many people have told me that I am a positive person; this is not surprising to me.

But the tangibility of being given a token like this was a welcome reminder for me of the impact I have on the people around me. Ruth mentioned something specific that had happened a week or two ago while we were working on a mutual, technology-related problem. She tried sharing a file with me, and after I was unable to open it, I emailed her back. My email said, "No joy on my end." And she told me when she gave me the crayon, "I can hardly imagine you with 'no joy.'"

What a lift, from a simple little gift!

I'm embracing it: I am a yellow crayon.

How about you? If someone was going to give you a crayon that represents something about you, what color would they give you, and why?

Thoughts on Seriousness

I had the opportunity to see Rend Collective in concert last night. I love this group! After the show my daughter said something like, "It's like we went to a concert and it turned into church, but in the best way." She's right about that--these folks are out to worship, and invite those gathered for the show to shift from "watchers" into "participants." You can't hardly help yourself when you see their infectious joy and celebration!

I don't know what my favorite part of the evening was. We talked about it on our drive home. Here are a few things I love about this group:

I Just Love Being a Teacher!

You know what? I love being a teacher. Seriously, I love it!

My bio on our institution's website even starts off this way: "I love to teach! ..." I figure I might as well let people know right from the get-go. I believe I'm called to this work, and that I've been equipped for it, and as a vocation teaching gives me deep joy.

Don't get me wrong...there are definitely joys and concerns. There are very real challenges in this profession. And the demands and expectations always seem to be growing, year-by-year. But overall, the joys outweigh the concerns, for me at least.

Sometimes I need a reminder about this though. I have my moments when the work starts to pile up, and the meetings start adding up, and the stack of things to read starts towering...and the distraction of this gets to me.

And then, somehow, I always seem to get a moment of encouragement, a word from a student, an affirmation from a colleague, something that reminds me, "I get to do this!"

I had one of those moments recently. I was up to my eyebrows in the thick of planning and grading and keeping up with email, and--honestly--losing some of the joy that I typically feel in my work.

I took a Twitter break.