I wrote the post at the end of this post (separated by space) two years ago in May. I look back at myself last year and the year before and witness the subtle changes I've experienced since that time. On the outside, I am no longer a leadership teacher (for one of the two electives we teach), but a computer applications teacher. I am no longer a student council advisor (in fulfillment of the duty outside the classroom that each teacher bears), but a technology assistant. These are very different roles that I believe characterize the change I've seen in myself over the past years, or that shaped that change. A leadership teacher must be himself ready to lead; must invite discussion of diverse ideas and, therefore, potential conflict about those ideas, and must be a visible presence in the school as his students execute their plans. While the computer teacher is many of these things, as well, he is much less visible. Indeed, students in his own class spend most of their time looking not at him, but at the screen he is using to guide them on a project.
Perhaps what prompted this change was the change occurring in me. I am an introvert by nature, so the prospect of leading not just a class, but by proxy at times, a school, was a little unsettling. Within the four years as leadership teacher, I grew increasingly comfortable addressing large crowds and orchestrating public events that broadcast my strengths and weaknesses as a teacher. By the end of last year, however, I noticed that such publicity was not natural for me.
I found that the role of computer teacher was a more natural fit. Hence, my introversion once again took its place as the guide for my behavior and taught me that one cannot successfully contend long with one's nature, at least not by oneself. The situation is akin to settlers cutting away thick jungle foliage to build structures unnatural to the environment, only to have the same foliage overtake these structures at the onset of fatigue. My introversion was the jungle and my leadership position the buildings. The buildings were livable, albeit quaint, and yet they were not intended to last. Upon reflection, and much like my experience as a teacher in general, I learned as much about myself as I did about my students and how to teach leadership. I will value those lessons, I believe, for the rest of my life. Moreover, the memories of events that my students and I created as a class will also remain with me, as will the laughter we experienced in such events. Here, then, is the unfinished draft of a post I wrote two years ago in the very merry month of May.
Little more than a few months ago, I knew nothing about a dance called the Harlem Shake. Earlier this month, however, I found myself organizing one of these flash mobs in my school's lunch room. My leadership class and I then showed the resulting video during the intermission of my first talent show last night. That event proved meaningful for several of my school's families, and was successful for student leadership. May always includes a flurry of events, since it is the last month of school. Field trips, student council elections, leadership banquets, promotion ceremonies, and more adorn this month, among the busiest of the year.
As with every previous year, I've changed as a teacher during this one. There is the obvious change in the curriculum I include and the style I employ; but then there is the more subtle change about me as a person.
Perhaps what prompted this change was the change occurring in me. I am an introvert by nature, so the prospect of leading not just a class, but by proxy at times, a school, was a little unsettling. Within the four years as leadership teacher, I grew increasingly comfortable addressing large crowds and orchestrating public events that broadcast my strengths and weaknesses as a teacher. By the end of last year, however, I noticed that such publicity was not natural for me.
I found that the role of computer teacher was a more natural fit. Hence, my introversion once again took its place as the guide for my behavior and taught me that one cannot successfully contend long with one's nature, at least not by oneself. The situation is akin to settlers cutting away thick jungle foliage to build structures unnatural to the environment, only to have the same foliage overtake these structures at the onset of fatigue. My introversion was the jungle and my leadership position the buildings. The buildings were livable, albeit quaint, and yet they were not intended to last. Upon reflection, and much like my experience as a teacher in general, I learned as much about myself as I did about my students and how to teach leadership. I will value those lessons, I believe, for the rest of my life. Moreover, the memories of events that my students and I created as a class will also remain with me, as will the laughter we experienced in such events. Here, then, is the unfinished draft of a post I wrote two years ago in the very merry month of May.
Little more than a few months ago, I knew nothing about a dance called the Harlem Shake. Earlier this month, however, I found myself organizing one of these flash mobs in my school's lunch room. My leadership class and I then showed the resulting video during the intermission of my first talent show last night. That event proved meaningful for several of my school's families, and was successful for student leadership. May always includes a flurry of events, since it is the last month of school. Field trips, student council elections, leadership banquets, promotion ceremonies, and more adorn this month, among the busiest of the year.
As with every previous year, I've changed as a teacher during this one. There is the obvious change in the curriculum I include and the style I employ; but then there is the more subtle change about me as a person.
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