Mrvaudrey

Tag: new teacher

  • It sure felt like getting fired

    I found this buried in my Google Drive this week. It’s a journal entry from 2008.

    Nowbeleven years laterbI love teaching and there are some teachers appreciate my commentary on stuff. As our teammates and friends are getting their March 15th letters, it may help to remember where we’ve come and how powerless it feels to be a bad teacher.

    It gets better, y’all.

    Okay, both my in-laws, my wife, and both parents said that I wasnbt technically bfiredb. I was told that my bprobationary contract wasnbt renewed for the following yearb.

    It sure felt a lot like getting fired.

    As you may have gathered from my references to my first year teaching, it was rough. On a good day, I had a little bit of control over the class, until a student wanted to do something out of the ordinary, like talk about anything unrelated to math. Then my lack of boundaries and authority skills made a 53-minute dog turd sandwich out of the class period. My class was out of control four and a half days a week and I was out of my element.

    So out of my element and out of control was I, that when called for a 7:45 meeting in February, I blissfully ignorant to its nature.

    Present with me at the meeting was Rich, the Assistant Principal and friend from church who got me the job, and Jim Mandala.

    I use his full name instead of an alias because I have nothing bad to possibly say about the man. His skills at commanding the respect and control of a room were god-like to me, a 22-year-old first-year teacher with no skills. His salt-and-pepper hair wasnbt the first thing people saw, nor was his crooked nose, likely broken in younger days (perhaps ten or twenty times).

    No, the first thing people noticed about Mr. Mandala was his chest, which was eye level for most people, including me. Standing about 6b6b, peering down a crooked nose and inclining his charcoal-colored head to boom, bCan I help you?b he cast quite an intimidating figure. With that said, he was a delightfully pleasant and competent administrator, for whom I would immediately work again.

    So, I was worried, but not threatened, to see him share the table at my meeting.

    bMatt, what do you think your strengths are in the classroom?b Jimbs tone was light as he hunched over his folded arms.  

    I was stunned. Strengths? Like, those things that good teachers have? bUh, I think that Ibm relatable. Students feel safe to share their problems with meb& for the most part.b

    bI can see that,b Jim smiled. bI also see that you have good content, you know the math, and youbre a great communicator. Other teachers have said so, as well.b I started to perk up. This meeting is going great!

    bWhat are some areas where you can grow in the classroom?b Rich asked, more uncomfortable than Ibve seen him. Rich is a delightful man who wears his heart on his sleeve. Ibm sure he makes a great husband; chicks dig honesty and openness. And it made me nervous to see him squirming in this meeting.

    bWell, obviously, my classroom management needs some work. I think Ibve learned a lot this year and Ibm ready to start fresh with next yearbs class and reallyb& really take control.b

    I reiterate, this was in February.

    bDo you think you are doing a satisfactory job this year?b Jim again, asking with total sincerity and politeness. Coming from him, this question would make most grown men soil their knickers.

    Even grown teachers, whose capacity for surprise is somewhere between EMTs and Jack-in-the-Box repairmen.

    bUhhb& no.b I stammered, looking at my shoes. bI donbt think that I am a good teacher yet.b I started to see where the meeting was going. Why Rich was so uncomfortable, why Jim made so much eye contact and spoke so softly. I was getting fired.

    bMatt, webre confident that you will someday be a great teacher, but we canbt wait for you to become one. We need somebody now who can bring our scores up for the ELD students. We will not be renewing your contract for next year.b

    bb&okay.b I was crushed.

    bThis isnbt getting fired; when you apply for jobs, you just say byour contract was not renewedb. You should write up a letter of resignation, have it on my desk by the end of the week, and webll both write up letters of recommendation for you to apply for jobs. Thank you for working so hard; itbs clear that youbre a team player and you really wanted to do well.b

    bb&thank you.b My voice was about an inch tall. I just wanted the meeting to end, but I knew a full day of work awaited me. Jim stood, shook my hand, and left.

    Rich sheepishly asked, bAre you okay?b Tears were already lining up just behind my nose, and that question called them out. bYeah, Ibll be fine.b I sniffed wetly with a smile. bIbll be fine. Ibve just never been fired before.b

    bYoubre not getting fired. Itbs just the end of a one-year contract.b I feel for him now; he got me this job, and now he had to be there while it was taken away. Rich gave me a hug and I went to work. I called Andrea during my break period and cried behind my desk.

    It sure felt like getting fired.

    In the process of prepping this post, I found this one from a few weeks after the above was written.

    If you read that one, just… remember that I like my job now. And I’m much better with kids.

    ~Matt “Not Fired” Vaudrey

  • Dear New Teachers

    It gets better.

    Really, it sucks now, but you’ll have more and more great days and less and less days that you wanna quit and move in with your parents.

    See?
    See? Math proves it.

    Working with new teachers in my role as a coach, I ask the question: “Why are you a teacher?” Their responses are as diverse as the teachers themselves:

    • I want to make a difference for kids
    • I love English and I want to share that love with kids
    • I had a terrible History teacher and I want to make sure there are some great ones out there, so I chose to be a great teacher
    • I want summers off
    • I want a paycheck
    • I don’t want to work hard

    Four years ago, I was hired at Moreno Valley, and the clerk in HR that processed my application said, “I can tell which teachers will make it and which won’t.”

    While she was probably full of it, you b the new teacher b can probably tell which of your classmates aren’t going to retire from the field of education. They’ll retire from Plumbing or Business or Politics or something that has nothing to do with kids or teaching.

    Education is a noble and just profession charged with equipping the young future-citizens of the nation, and it’s an honor that you get to be part of the solution every day.

    You, new teacher, got into this job for one of the reasons above, and that reason alone will sustain you in this career. If, at any point, you realizeB This isn’t worth it to me,

    …you’re right

    … and you should quit.

    Seriously. Quit.

    Leave the field before you get jaded, complacent, grumpy, or rude. Leave theB field of education before you cast a shitty shadow on teachers who love their job and want to make a difference.

    Leave before you make the rest of usB look bad.

    If you choose to stay, be prepared for hardest job you’ve ever had.
    Be prepared for chancesB to affirm students instead of disciplining them.
    Be prepared to work your ass off and still not be very good at your job.
    Then be prepared to have your contract expireB and start all over again.

    beprepared
    [Be Prepared joke goes here]
    All of those things were necessary for me. See, after my first year of teaching (the worst year of my life),B I had to figure out if the hard work was worth it for the theoretical payoff.

    I decided that it was. That the potential to positively impact the lives of young people was worth late nights, low pay, and being asked “How old are you?” all the time.

    Me in 2008. Notice I don't yet look very happy to be a teacher.
    Me in 2007. Notice I don’t yet look very happy to be a teacher.

    Further, teaching was the first thing in my life where I didn’t succeed quickly (you know… besidesB every sport during teenage years). It was years before I considered myself an average teacher, and I’m only recently getting affirmed by others as “a good teacher”.

    Students have cried in my classroom to me (more times than I can count), have shared their lives with me, their breakups, their addictions, and their struggles. As a teacher, I worked hard to be excellent at my job and the by-products of that role are still paying dividends.

    A family friend is wrapping up her first year in the classroom as a Teacher’s Aide. She had this to say about her career:

    When I describe my students and their lives to my dad, he cries every time. My friends gasp and cover their mouthes when I describe the neighborhood where my students live. Thankfully, I’ve been outside of the room every time one of my “all-stars” gets into a fight, so my only role with them is positive. I have students who don’t know their times tables in the same room with students who are bored with the slow pace of the teacher and I have to find a way to engage them all.
    I love my job and I can’t imagine doing anything else.

    Dear New Teacher,

    It gets better.

    Be patient and keep working hard; it will get better.

    ~Matt Vaudrey

  • First Day of School

    B 7:25 a.m. August 10th, 2011

    Ibm dazed. Feel like Ibm dehydrated, but I know Ibm not. My mouth is dry and my tongue has the bitter taste that one gets before throwing up. I had to pull over in Etiwanda to have an emergency bathroom break and my stomach continues to curdle.

    All this after four years of teaching, the first day of year fivebyear fivebin the classroom, and 25 thirteen-year-olds still make me nervous on the first day of school.

    And this morning felt like I was force-feeding myself. Every bite of granola I had to wash down with apple juice.

    Since I was a kid, Ibve gotten anxious before big events. I can recall having to pull over on the way to the city-wide 12K when I was in middle school. Recently, when I climbed Mt. San Gorgonio, I had to squat in the snow on the side of highway 38 and wipe with snow.

    It was tingly.

    I wonder if taking something would make these days easier. Ibd still be anxious, but at least I wouldnbt need to pull over at a Shell station to take care of some business.

    And now Ibm about to arrive to work 20 minutes later than I wanted to get there. Itbs not badbI only have a few things left to do that will probably take about five minutes before students arrive. But still, itbs a bit nerve-wracking.

    7:42 a.m.

    The new job didnbt become real until I arrived on campus and heard the first pre-teen girl hugging her friend and creaming bOmigaaaaaawd! How was your summerrrrrrrr?b

    Up until then, I thought Hey, I got offered a new job, I might take it.

    Or This job sounds real good, itbs got high pay. Maybe I should check it out.

    Itbs now my new job; I work at Mountain View Middle School.

    I am Mr. Vaudrey. The math teacher.

    4:47 p.m.

    This morning, I saw a pack of boys as I walked by, and they gave me bthe eyeb.

    I used to see bthe eyeb when I was a student in middle school, and packs sought to pick on me. It means that the pack is sizing you up for weaknesses, seeing if they can pick on you to make themselves feel better. Even though Ibm now older and smarter and bigger and stronger than they are, I still get the eye because theybre in a pack and Ibm by myself.

    Just after I pass them, I hear one of the pack yell, bHey, you a teacher?b

    And I know the game. I know theybre looking for a way to bend me around their will, and thus, take some of the power from me, the teacher. So without stopping, I turn slightly and say bYep.b

    bWell, whatbs your name?b Now the whole pack is watching.

    I quickly turn around and beckon the vocal student to walk with me. bWhat?b I beckon again and keep walking.

    I know that, if I stop walking, then he is the cause of my stop. It sounds trivial. It sounds like nothingbbut then he just made a teacher do something. He was in control, he bent the grown-up to his will.

    I can hear him scampering behind me and as I round a corner of a building, he tries again, bWait! Whatbs your name?b

    I wave again and say, bWalk with me.b

    He looks back at his friends, looks at me, and says, bNaw, Ibm okay.b And returns to the pack.

    I continue to my class and permit myself a smug grin. I won.

  • Why work hard if you can’t keep your job?

    It is not a good time to be a beginning teacher.

    Historically, the first people to get laid off are the part-time, substitute, and intern teachers. The term “intern” essentially means “contracted while we feel like it”. At any point the intern teacher can be served with a March 15 letter with the phrase “services no longer needed” buried into a lot of legal fluff.

    The term “March 15 letter” refers to the deadline given by California Education Code; it’s the last possible date to let a teacher now that they must begin looking for a job. Every year, around April, dozens of recently polished resumes and recommendations flood recruiting websites like edjoin.org in an effort for new teachers to find the next “intern” position. Eventually, the intern earns enough clout to earn “tenure” which guarantees them a spot for the next year.

    At least… that’s how it usually is.

    A school that doesn’t have a union is a rarity in Southern California. Here, the powerhouse Union negotiators have lawyers and press agents on speed dial, ready to pounce on administrators the moment they start to show shady behavior.

    Many charter schools are union-free, largely because of the odd curriculum and regular teacher turnover. It is not uncommon for some charter schools to see 30% turnover every year. The teachers at one such union-free school, unfortunately, have no advocate.

    So when several teachers are laid off in late July, they are, as the French say, le screwed.

    The reason the March 15 deadline exists is to allow veteran teachers a fighting chance to get the most desirable positions. Several veteran teachers (in a school without tenure) were recently canned largely, it is believed, due to the high cost of their salary.

    Why keep a $70,000 English teacher when you can get a fresh one for $45,000?

    With a never-ending supply of fresh, inexperienced teachers, this pattern can be continued indefinitely, constantly removing teachers from the posts when they begin to be excellent and raise student test scores.

    The school is saved from the budget crunch.

    Hurrah.