When I walk
into a classroom these days I feel like I am walking into a dance
studio. I am the only one who isn't moving, learning, expressing,
struggling or stretching and as a result, find myself sticking out like
a sore thumb. For one, my clothes are too clean. And generally, a
clipboard and pen now accompany me. I stand by the door observing,
trying not to reflect on how much I'm interrupting by simply doing
nothing.
I am enjoying my
new job as a Child Development Specialist for Head Start, and some days
I feel like I am really making a difference. Like last week, I was able
to show a novice teacher how to negotiate the power struggle with a boy
who kept pushing. I told her, "He wants to be told no. He wants you to
love him by saying no. He wants to know that you won't let him float
away." A little modeling on how to connect, some reflection, some
follow-up the next day and she was teaching again with a new friend.
I
get the feeling that teachers want me to see perfection when I enter
their classroom. But there's no such thing as a perfect pre-k class.
When I was teaching everyday, my classroom felt a lot like a studio.
What happened there was imperfect, unfinished, and always a work in
progress. I worked with an instructional assistant so I always had a
"partner" to bounce ideas off of, to make sure I wasn't too far off the
mark. Now I am by myself when I am "working."
I walk into other
teacher's studios. I know they can't be sure how to interact with me. I
am a supervisor and I am also too familiar with the imperfections of
the classroom. Working in a preschool classroom is one of the most
primal experiences you can have in education. I am talking body fluid
primal. I am talking pure joy, pure rage, pure uncertainty, cultures
clashing, towers smashing, tricycles crashing.
The
children shed crocodile tears, Daddy arrested tears, and give me back
my doll tears all in a couple minutes. Who am I to judge this chaos
but, it's my job.
I could always tell how comfortable a visitor
was with this primal experience by how far they came into my classroom.
Another pre-k teacher might make it all the way back to the dramatic
play area. Most, especially principals and school board members, never
made it past the line-up line. The energy, chaos, joy, and terror,
stopped them like a moat of tears. It was shallow, but who would want
to get their feet wet in "real" teaching when they could just as easily
not muddy the waters of their ideals with the human drama and primal
experience of real pre-k kids.
I am trying to
negotiate this role of supervisor. I wear the micro-politics of my role
as a supervisor like a sports coat that is too small. I can see how
tight it is, how it doesn't quite fit, and I wonder, does the teacher I
am talking to think it doesn't fit either?
image: http://www.buzzle.com/img/articleImages/294252-3328-5.jpg