It’s 6.00 am and I find myself twirling in bed; my sheets wrapped around my body tighter than a tortilla. Although I hit the hay early, I feel as though I hadn’t slept a wink. Sluggishly, I get out of bed and commence preparations for the long day ahead. My teacher’s bag is equipped with all the basic necessities for teaching juveniles. No, I’m not referring to markers or books; rather tissues, adhesive bandages, cleansing gels, you know… the works! A bit of makeup, some finishing touches to my hair and off I go!
Upon arrival at the school premises, I take a moment to reflect upon last year’s predicaments before exiting my car. It doesn’t take a prophet to tell me this year will be no different than the ones before. I unlock my door and before I even have the chance to exit, I am greeted by familiar faces that have physically matured over the summer months. Some are most welcome as they wholeheartedly embrace me. Others strike a sense of dread for what is to come. The pranksters and smart-alecks, or the socially obnoxious and loud.
“Good morning, Ms. Katherine!” yelled one of my students directly into my ear drum.
“Good morning, Johnathon. I haven’t had coffee yet,” I reply, carrying a year’s worth of textbooks in my arms.
“You’ll need it!” shouted my student as he and his classmates trampled away giggling.
“Why did I choose this profession?” I whisper to myself as I make my way to the teacher’s lounge.
“Katherine! It’s so lovely to see you!” exclaims a colleague who was sipping her coffee, thoroughly examining me from head to toe in the most indiscrete of fashions. “I’ve never seen that dress before. Did you purchase it for the first day of school?” she asks loudly, drawing all heads in the lounge towards me.
“No, I’ve had this for some time now,” I bluntly reply as I make my way to my classroom. To be honest, it was indeed new. I wanted to make a good first impression on my new students - children no older than eight years of age. I wonder if history would repeat itself. How many would cry upon realization that they are in the absence of their parents in unfamiliar surroundings with an adult they no nothing about? What about the restless souls who enjoy wreaking havoc in their paths, or the disoriented who need constant guidance until they familiarize themselves with the proceedings and demands of their new endeavors?
I hear footsteps which gradually morph into stomping, followed by a knock on my door that stirs a multitude of emotions within me. I then witness protruding heads peeking from behind the door, staring at me intensely.
“Tiny people,” I tell myself, greeting them with the most honest of smiles and genuine warmth in my heart. “Hi! Please come in!” I invite them, as more tiny people start flooding into the classroom. One of my new students adorned with the cutest hair clips, approaches me and says, “You look like my mom!” before promptly running to her seat. Another, whispers into her friend’s ear, just loud enough for me to discern that they consider me pretty.
Meanwhile, a boy immediately starts fiddling with the class computer, commenting on its outdated specifications stressing how important it is for me to buy a new one. “It’s not mine…” I try to explain, when suddenly I hear the first whimper of the year. I quickly make my way to the student and kneel next to her. “What’s wrong sweetie?” I gently ask.
“Where’s my mommy?” she begs in tears.
“Don’t worry, she’ll pick you up in about an hour,” I comfort her, explaining how much fun we were about to have. I do believe that emotions are contagious; upon witnessing her classmate in tears, another starts crying as well. I rush to her side and ask what is wrong. She replies, “I don’t know!” and starts giggling.
I open my trusty teacher’s bag and offer tissues to both students. We bond over this moment, and they consider themselves privileged to have been taken care of by their new teacher.
Whispers continue which was expected and I allow it to a point as they are still adjusting to their new surroundings and obligations.
I suddenly realize I hadn’t had the opportunity to introduce myself. Here goes nothing…
“Hello everyone! My name is Ms. Katherine! I’ll be your teacher this year.”
As if someone turned on a switch, the bold ones start interrogating me.
“Where are you from?”
“Are you married?”
“How old are you?”
“I can hold my breath for two minutes!”
Okay, there are also a lot of statements concerning preferences or abilities and some facts about their families that start to become way too personal.
I immediately set the pace after breaking the ice and ask them to open their school bags.
“It’s time to open your new textbooks!” I exclaim with joy.
One of my students runs to my side bearing his new textbook. Something, however, feels off, as he is dripping water all over the floor.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“My water bottle opened and my books are all wet! Can I have new ones?”
Before I even have the time to reply, I catch a glimpse of another student coloring her textbook with her shiny new color pencils.
“Give me a second,” I ask running to the other’s side. “Please don’t color your textbook, we’ll have many projects to color and do throughout the year!”
Her happy face turns into a frown as I realize I had just disappointed a happy student when suddenly the projector turns on - or rather, was turned on by the resident tech boy of the class.
“The projector’s lamp needs to be replaced! It’s not that bright,” he explains while examining the remote control.
I quickly speed to his side, politely taking the remote from his hands and explain proper classroom etiquette to the whole class - the dos and don’ts, if you will.
And then chaos ensues…
“I want my mommy!” cries a student, while two boys pull their football cards out of their pockets.
A knock on the door catches my attention as the school secretary introduces me to yet another student with her mother by her side.
“Why is her mommy with her?” cries the weeping student, all the while the mother insists on preoccupying me with a set of instructions on how to treat her daughter.
I politely ask to speak with the persistent mother during my break as the situation in class is escalating.
I feel a tug at my dress; the boy with the dripping book is still standing next to me, the boys in the back have spread their football cards on the floor, two of my students had colored their desks, and the mother, of course, standing next to the door apathetically observing the chaos she had contributed to.
“Way to go, Katherine! Now what?” I regrettably ask myself when the school manager himself decides to pay a visit.
“We decided to add a tenth student to your class. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” he smiled at me for confirmation.
“No problem at all,” I replied gritting my teeth in despair.
Fortunately, all adults decide to leave, allowing me a window of opportunity to establish order within the classroom. After easing the tensions and covering the basics, we make our first official connection as teacher and students. The lesson picks up pace, we learn a thing or two and at the end of the lesson, I help them with their bags and belongings. Some embrace me, others smile and run happily in their parents’ arms, tossing their bags aside.
“How was it?” their parents ask.
“It was great! Our teacher is really nice!” they reply walking away into the distance.
“Thank goodness! I have just a few seconds to catch my breath before my senior class…”
“Hi Ms. Katherine! We’re back!” yells Johnathon, accompanied by his classmates.
“Indeed, you are. It’s good to have you all back,” I reply as I take pride in how much my students have changed throughout the years.
“Are those kids your new junior class? They’re so cute!” my senior students comment.
“Yes, they are. They actually remind me of you when you first started. Anyway, open your books to page…”
