The first week has come and gone, and with it, all the fearful expectations and nightmares new teachers face. I have taught two classes and been on hand to help control the rest. I can now discipline children without feeling awkward and can be really REALLY stupid quite happily. I even count it a success if all the kids are laughing at me. My confidence is now solid.


It’s difficult to explain our situation. We live at the school, so every day, all day, feels like work. True, we’re only teaching 13 forty minute classes a week, but we remain in the office, down the hall from our dorms, from 8 until 5:30. And we’re at the school all the time. It’s not bad; we have a lot of down time, and not all of that is spent working on lessons. In fact, since most of the lessons are very cut and dried, it’s only a matter of tweaking ppts or finding pictures. But, again, we’re always at the school. We eat all meals here, we sleep here, we go for walks here. The kids are here for the entire week, sleeping two floors above us.


But this work is fun. Unless you’re disciplining, you’re basically just goofing off on a theme to a bunch of kids who love you. I used to work retail, where my success depended on the happiness of another person and their particular materialism. In this job, my success depends on how much love I can show these kids, and how many seeds of good character I can plant. They won’t remember most, if any, of what we teach them. In one ear and out the other, as the saying goes. But as I heard someone say, they will remember the feelings they had here. I remember the good teachers I have had. I have no memory of what they taught me, but I remember the love and passion they shared. That’s what I want to instill in my students. Our love and our desire to help them. What a lovely job.



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