missteacher

My school is where you want to teach. Nearly 95% success in BREVET (secondary school exam). Pupils are polite, they never swear. Parents are coming to the meetings, colleagues are very nice... I'm so damn lucky to be here.

I have this class... you wouldn't believe. It's a dream. I didn't know it existed. They are in the last class before entering High School (about 14-15 years old). They're 20 (very nice number). And they're incredible. They ask me for more work. They want to have an irregular verbs test. If I forget to ask them about their verbs, they remind me so. They are quiet, polite and good workers.
Plus, they understand everything. What can I say? I love them!!!

They think they know so much that they can be a bit annoying sometimes. On Monday I had to remind them that it's not because they've seen something once that it is completely understood. I know some of them have difficulties. The thing is that they're hidden by the excellent pupils (constituting the majority of the class). I didn't want to lose those pupils (it can be a danger in this kind of class where the excellent pupils give you a wrong impression about the class). I talked to 4 of them on Monday, asking if they were ok, asking if the class was going too fast for them. I had silence as an answer.

I thought I was wrong to ask them, I thought they were mad at me for pointing out their loneliness.
Then, today, one of them raised her hand all the time. I could see her whispering the sentences the others were doing. I tried to make her talk as much as I could. And she was good, even though she was talking with this shy tiny voice.

That's it. She's in it. She boarded the train.
I hope the other three will follow her.

Today was a special day. I asked my pupils to take a piece of paper and to write what they thought about the English classes (and the English teacher!) all along the year. I wanted to have some feedback to help me progress in my job.
I had two different kinds of reaction.

With my first class (15-16 year olds) most of them did it, saying positive things – which was good. Some didn’t do it – they gave back a blank sheet. Or they just wrote a few words, not even about the contents of the class. It was anonymous, it’s the end of the year, they had nothing to fear. One said “don’t look!”. I said “no I’m not looking”. He wrote (in English): “I have much appreciated this year” (sic).
What I’ve realized reading this is their self-restraint. He didn’t want me to read that he liked the class. Only the girls were more direct. The boys didn’t say much – keeping their kind of “pupil-like dignity”: “No we’re not going to tell you; it’s not part of the contract”. Yeah. Right. I’ve nearly forgotten that. They’re in the middle of those trouble years where saying to an adult “I like what you’re doing” is impossible. They’re too much concerned about themselves, their own life. I’m just their teacher, nothing else. The invisible barrier is there, impassable. It was stupid of me to expect more. What should I expect???
They’re leading their lives, I’ve been a tiny detail in them. They’re going on with different things, on a different way.
After all, I am, too, ready to move on, to start a new life, far from here, in a new school, a new region.

Then I met my second class (17-18 year olds). They were only 8 – it’s really the end of the year for them, most of them are not coming to class any more. They took their blank sheets and wrote – and wrote again. I read them after they left. It was the last time I saw them. The little notes were just... amazing. Saying I was a very good and enthousiastic teacher, that I made them progress, that they learned many things, that I was nice... I even had a love declaration ! ;-) “You’re the sun of my life. I like your style – don’t change. You’re beautiful when you’re angry. Big Kiss. R and T.”. They both gave me their numbers on a paper, asking me to send them messages !! ;-)

I held these little folded notes like some precious and secret revelations that I couldn’t put away. I packed my stuff, keeping them in hand, went to lock the door. I felt tears coming up. I felt sadness. I felt my heart pinching.

They were simply the first ones. Can you ever forget about your first times? Don’t they make you feel special? Isn’t it the kind of thing that lingers in you?

I think it is.