The Teaching Game

When I realize that I have been teaching for almost 10 years now, I get a little scared.
First - because time goes by so fast.
Second and foremost - because if I never knew what I wanted to do as a grown-up, I have always known what I didn't want to be: a teacher. And I remember being consistently quite vocal about it since I was 6.

Now that I have been living in the skin of the impostor for a decade I can't help looking back on all these years where I believed that being on the other side of the border would be the end of me. Like - the death of my soul or something. I was thinking back then that becoming a teacher would be synonymous with failure. The sure sign that I would not have been able to find my way, a job, a real career to pursue and thrive in; becoming a teacher was like never leaving the student world and that simple fact was damn depressing. So I chose the high way and looked up to foreign politics, law and diplomacy.
I didn't last long.

I got my first teaching job in the Fall of 2000. I had just finished my master's degree, was not sure of what the next step should be and had to earn money since my boyfriend back then had to leave his - guess what? - teaching job to serve in the army (10 months of military service in the music section. Such a treat.) So I got into the system and become overnight a Latin sub for a posh junior high in a chic suburbs.

Weirdly enough I don't remember much about my very first time. I was nervous alright but I cannot quite recall what was going through my head as I was climbing up the stairs to my 3rd floor classroom. Nobody had really told me what to do; I had no book, no experience, no training and I was supposed to teach a bunch of 11-15 year olds grammar rules that nobody in their right mind cared about. That was sort of challenging, not to mention petrifying. Cursing myself inside for not proceeding with yoga I took a deep breath and opened the door.
Things went well. I was a demanding teacher and found out that students liked that. Giving hard tests was a way to acknowledge their analytical and logical abilities; they were grateful. Talking about the Antique world was not as foreign and irrelevant as I had feared; we sometimes engaged in deep discussions of current events and I remember discussing quite passionately the American elections with my 9th graders.
Being a sub I was sent on 'missions'. After the posh establishment came the rural and oh so sweet school close to the Luxembourg border, and the difficult high school in the project. After a year in the French system of secondary education I had had a taste of pretty much everything it had to offer, and even if I tremendously enjoyed my interactions with the young crowds I hated my colleagues and their closeted thinking.
I was ready for a change, and had set myself for a big one.

Teaching here has of course been a whole other experience. New country, new rules, new environment. Keeping in mind that you are dealing with students who are also - and sometimes foremost - customers. What a world of difference. I had to forget the French ways to embrace new ones, quite happily sometimes: our habits of systematic belittlement have always revolted me. But I have to admit that making everyone believe that all their ideas are brilliant and worth listening to is almost as irking. But when in Rome...
I am still surprised today to realize that I do love teaching. Not only because of what I can bring to the ones who are sitting across from me but also for the job itself makes for me, makes OF me. I used to be the shiest person in the world. Hot flashes, wet palms, stuttering, yep: that was me all the way. So that first day when I was getting ready to push the door to face the most dreaded public that can be - a room of hormone-loaded teenagers - you can only imagine my stress level. But facing kids worked wonders: it helped me to get out there, and stop giving a fuck about what people might think of me, my butt, the stain in my blouse or the leaf of parsley stuck in my teeth. I am now enjoying the representation part of the teaching job so much that I am going to miss the character I slowly forged along the years. Miss Labenheim, strict but fun and upbeat is not entirely me. Teaching is a lot like role playing: I enter the classroom like I enter the stage. I educate and I entertain; I am the master and the fool, I impose the rules and make fun of them. Sounds like a delicate balance, and it is. But I blossom in it and hardly ever gets tired of the game. It comes with challenges, like introducing debate in French 203 through the theme of death penalty, the legalization of cannabis or the blatant inequality in French political life. Heavy stuff that can be handled through the absurd because, well, it's the only way to really handle them in a language class. Comparative merits of the guillotine over the ax execution? No longer a secret for us. Slang terms for marijuana and cannabis? We have a long list of them. Detailing French congressmen outfits and ranking them by 'hotness level'? Betcha.

I learned so much on myself by teaching to others. I am going to miss my schooling persona, for sure but I am now ready to let it go and face at last the REAL world.
Next year.