Disappointments

So far, I haven't lost my temper or let the kids get to me. There have been a couple of SERIOUS LOOKS and "it's in your best interest to pay attention" moments. And one group will come in for class tomorrow and find I've assigned seats to combat the chronic chatting problem. But nothing worse than that.

But I have faced my first major disappointment. And of course it's in a group of kids who are super-smart and capable. Their first project was due last week, and the majority the class failed to turn it in on time. I gave the project -- a brief, 5-minute presentation -- a week in advance and gave them class time to hop on the computers and do research. Of those that did turn it in, several failed to follow the instructions that (I thought) were clearly given and were explained even further on the rubric that came with the instructions.

And I just don't get it. In high school, yes, I was a overachiever who would've died rather than turn anything in late and hated getting anything below an A. And I get that not everyone is like that. But I cannot figure out why kids who are smart and perfectly able don't care. I've been told it's not my fault, but it's still frustrating, and I've spent the weekend trying to figure out how to communicate to them that they could've done so much better than they did.

Loving the Kids

During in-service, the administrators often stressed that you've got to love the kids, from the ones who aren't into school to the ones who are overachievers.

One week in, I think I get it.

I have a few classes full of kids who genuinely like the material they are supposed to be learning. I threw rather dry legal issues at one group during the first week and they more than tolerated it. They're awesome at participating in discussions and I really look forward to hearing their opinions.

Then, there are the classes with kids who aren't as enthusiastic for a number of reasons. When I was a student, I was never terribly patient with people who procrastinated or didn't apply themselves totally to work. Somehow, I can deal with these guys. It's exasperating -- how many times must I explain that you need to read the directions? -- but I'm not angry at them and I don't dislike them for it. I like them for different reasons. But I do hope I can find a way to engage these kids at some point so they don't feel like this whole year is a waste.

Misunderstanding

My advising philosophy is, pretty much, that my editors make the final call on shaping the publications. I'm here to contribute my opinion when needed and make sure the kids don't do something that gets us sued. There are things I want them to change, but at the end of the day, the book is not supposed to make me happy, it's supposed to make them and all umpteen billion of their peers happy. I expected to get through the year without saying "you CANNOT do that" a lot of times. I probably should've told my editors that before Tuesday's class.

That day, I planned to just turn things over the yearbook editors. The whole group didn't go to yearbook camp, so the editors needed to share the theme with the class and get feedback. And then I figured it would be good to start talking signature organization and spread ideas. So I checked roll, then basically said, "Tag, you're it."

They wanted a lot more guidance than that, and I didn't realize that until about halfway through the period. I wanted to be pretty hands-off, and they preferred a bit more of a hands-on approach. No big deal -- especially when it seems they read my mind already. (If they've already decided to make the changes to the book, I'm not really making them change their minds ...) I think as they gain more confidence in their abilities to lead throughout the year, they won't need me as much.

Meanwhile, my newspaper kids managed to put together their story ideas for the first issue with almost no help from me. This is the staff I expected to be a bit more involved with because the group is teeny-tiny. So I'm really proud of them for coming up with great ideas for the first issue -- I only needed to give a bit of input.

A New Career Path

Four years ago, I was completely over being in high school. I graduated and had no plans to come back. I was going to go to college, get my journalism degree and try to make a living in a newsroom. Surely by 2009, the media would figure out how to make money off that whole Internet thing. (Oops.)

During my freshman year of college, I started working for an organization that shall go unnamed, but basically it involved me working a lot journalism advisers and their students. Being in contact with them and reading (and later on, critiquing) their publications made me realize a few things:

1. Journalism advisers are pretty cool people. And pretty much the opposite of journalists as far as attitudes go.
2. The kids are pretty cool, too.
3. There are some darn good publications out there.
4. There are some publications that fail to challenge the students to reach their full potential. And this drives me CRAZY.
5. I wanted to teach the papers that were falling short how to kick some major butt.
6. The skills you get in journalism class are helpful even if you aren't going into journalism, and more kids need them.

Around the same time, I also realized that being a journalist was never going to challenge me like teaching could. I am not the type of person who does well when everything becomes boring or routine. By the time my last internship was wrapping up, I was not enjoying it as much.

After trying (and failing) to get into Teach for America, I ultimately got a separate teaching job offer last spring -- taking on journalism and photojournalism classes, advising the newspaper and yearbook and coaching journalism competitors -- enrolled in an alternate certification program and spent a summer saying goodbye to the newsroom. I took my journalism certification exam and pondered what I had committed myself to.

In August, I showed up to in-service, started setting up the classroom and asked far too many questions. I had some doubts. Could I really handle advising a newspaper staff that basically amounts to .1 percent of the school's population? How the heck could I teach the yearbook kids to sell ads when I hated doing that when I was in their position? And how many people would refuse to listen to me because I've been mistaken for a high school student?

I reached Monday without a major case of nerves. The classroom was as ready as it could be. I had a plan. I couldn't do much more than that.

The first two classes were rough. Beyond a few, very smart chatterboxes, many students didn't want to talk. (Did I really get the first quiet class in the history of teaching?) Several didn't pay attention, but I didn't take that personally. By my third journalism class of the day, I had figured out a way to keep most of the class engaged. They really got interested when we started talking about their media consumption habits, the coverage of Michael Jackson's death, and why they are more interested in celebrity news rather than "regular" news. They offered up really smart answers. By my fourth class of the day, I had my best -- and most awake -- group yet.

It wasn't easy. I had to think quickly when they had no questions about the syllabus, my rules and discipline policy, the new lunch times and so on. I had to deal with awkward silence from my non-talkers. Oh, and apparently my pants zipper was halfway down all of first period.

But I made it without thinking once that this was a mistake. (The shoes I wore, on the other hand ...) I know there are some kids who will be engaged and some kids who aren't, and I can deal with that. And I learned that the yearbook and newspaper kids are just as awesome as any other school's.

I'm waiting for the anvils to start falling ...