One person sprang immediately to mind: Ms. Rountree, or as I have been know to call her, my evil master teacher.
When future teachers are going through college, towards the end of earning their credentials, they do 2 blocks of student teaching, usually for 10 weeks each, in 2 different schools in different grades in order to gain experience. Most of the teachers who are completing their student teaching already have their degrees and have continued going to school in order to get their credentials. I had just turned 22 and was still completing my Bachelors in an acclerated program.
My first block of student teaching had been unfortunate, but fairly uneventful. I had ended up in a 4th grade class in an OLD ghetto school in Corona, and had a teacher who was very absent and did not offer much insight into teaching. He would say things like "you're going to teach Social Studies today for 30 minutes, here is the manual" or "why don't you teach reading today, I will be in the lounge." The best one was a day that I showed up at school to find a sub in the classroom, unexpectedly. He left a note for the sub that said "Talk to Miss Thomas, she will show knows the plans." The note for me said "Miss Thomas-- Do what you always do, see you tomorrow." School started in 30 minutes and I had to figure out the whole day. As difficult as this experience was, I learned how to think on my feet and got used to doing things by the seat of my pants. He wasn't stressed about anything, so neither was I.
I was excited to start my next block. I was going to be at a brand new school in a new housing development in Etiwanda, and would be teaching 1st grade. As a future primary teacher, I looked forward to the experience.
Things quickly went south. My Master teacher was in her late 30's, lived with her longterm boyfriend and spent all of her time at school. She micromanaged everything down to the minute. She never smiled or laughed, even with the student. She had a tense, stuttered way of speaking. Her planbook had not only the activities to be taught, but the standards that they addressed as well. Come to that, she made the planbook herself on the computer and printed out the pages. (As opposed to my previous teacher who had a planbook and gradebook that the school provided free that I never once saw him write in.) Her students were almost always silent, and had very little free time.
I noticed all of these things right away, but they didn't seem to be a big deal until she began expecting me to be exactly the same way. When my lessons didn't last exactly 40 minutes long and I looked to her for guidance in how to finish, she would mark it down on my evaluations. When I had to leave early 1 day a week to get to my other job, she talked to my credential superviser about it. When I forgot to unlock the door to the classroom before school, she made me sit out teaching first thing that morning. She began asking me stay late to plan with her. One Friday we stayed at school until 8:30 PM! She started asking me to give her specific lesson plans 1 week in advance so she could approve of them. She started critiquing my lessons and having long discussions with me, one that was so long and pointed that I ended up in tears. It was at this conversation that she said that she didn't think I should be a teacher, and that I should rethink my choice in a career. She told me that she didn't think I was ready to have my solo experience, which was supposed to be 2 week of me being alone in the classroom, so she shortened it to 1 week so she could observe me.
The week before my solo experience was so bad that I actually wished I would be a in car accident. Not bad enough to be killed, but just enough to be injured. I clearly thought "I wonder if I would still have to finish if I had a broken leg." I filled 2 pages front and back of lined paper of every single action I would take and every single word I would say ALL DAY LONG for the first day. Things like: unlock the door, take roll, tell them to sit down, tell them to get out a pencil, etc. etc. etc.
In the end, I survived the experience. I had several negative reviews in my evaluations, and obviously did not ask her for a letter of recommendation. We went to the end of the year party and sat next to her and did not say a word to each other, not out of anger, but just because there was nothing to say. I left without a word to her, and saw her one time the next year when I subbed, and never again after that.
So, to the point of the entry: I have forgiven Ms. Rountree for all of this.
I have come to think so differently since this experience. It was when my partner teacher Teri had a student teacher that was such a lump that she was considering putting some negative reviews on her evaluations that I had an epiphany. I realized that I never, ever, once showed Ms. Rountree what an awesome teacher and person I was. In some ways, I couldn't. It wasn't my classroom, I didn't have any experience, and I didn't yet know what I was doing. As much as I knew I was meant to be a teacher, how on earth was she to know that? In other ways, not showing her was my fault. I was still in the lazy college student phase, which was to get the best grade with the least amount of work, and get the credit with the least amount of effort. I would seriously judge someone's seriousness if their current job overlapped with their work in the classroom. I would judge someone for being forgetful if it was repetitive, and I didn't see any signs of effort. I am now able to see things from her perspective, and I can see that she felt it her duty to train me to be a good teacher like her, and that I did not measure up. She needed to do everything she could to prepare me, and her eyes, she was just warning and helping me.
I wasn't hired for another 2 years after having Ms. Rountree. Having such a terrible experience with her and then immediately going into a period of subbing and repeatedly interviewing and never getting hired seriously messed with me. Anyone who knows me from this time can tell you. This was the most depressing time in my life: I was alone, I lived at home, I worked in a mind-numbingly boring job with idiots, I had to sub to keep my foot in the door, and I had serious doubts about everything.
Then everything wonderful happened. I interviewed for a job with my current principal and was dejected when I didn't get it. The school year started and I got a call from my principal that another job had opened up and it was mine the next day if I wanted it. My principal told me later that she wanted to hire me that day, but there were two others with more experience than me. When 2 positions opened up, she fought with the district to prevent more interviewing, that she already knew who she wanted. As a result of all of these fortuitous events, I ended up with the best job ever. I have been so safe and protected at Deer Canyon, my team is so supportive, I have great friends that have become family, my principal has continuously gone to the mat for me. I have gone from an insecure, doubtful person to a KINDERGARTEN TEACHER who actually knows what she is doing. Seriously, on a side note, my dad would always say that I should tell people that I was a teacher. I never could because I was just subbing, or just teaching part time. Then, when I was hired, I would say I was a teacher who was put in Kindergarten, because it wasn't my choice and I was just happy to have a job. Now I can proudly say that I have taught for going on 6 years and that this is where I belong.
That feeling of comfort/security/belonging/confidence/pride/success has just helped me blossom. Would have been able to meet John without that feeling? Would I have been confident enough to buy a house/have a dog/have a kid someday without it?
So yes, Ms. Rountree, I forgive you. Your strictness came as a shock to me, and I am sorry that I didn't show you more of my true self. You always said that you would rather me think you mean and know you told me the truth, rather than be nice and have me be shocked later. Know that you were right: nothing came as a shock to me after working with you. I think things ended up well, don't you?
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