Emergent Things

Last week, two students came up to me after class and asked why I don’t tell stories or jokes. They also mentioned that I hardly smile. While taken back by the oddity of the question (if there is such thing as odd questions when you spend your days with high school students), what struck me the most was that at my old school, I always told stories and jokes. It was a way of engaging students, connecting with them, and supplementing the curriculum.

It wasn’t until I was asked about this that I realized that I had accomplished what I set out to do when I left my teaching job three months ago. Because my old school was my first full-time teaching job, I was far more casual than I knew I was supposed to be, so I told these stories, gave insights into my life and personality, and ultimately connected with my students on a deeper level than I ever anticipated. It wasn’t until I had matured as a teacher that I realized that I had probably let them know too much about myself. When I switched schools, I decided to not make this mistake again.

My casual attitude wasn’t limited to my personality or instruction, either. In my old school, I wore rugged flannel shirts and tattered khakis, let my beard grow to my chest, and let my hair grow past my shoulders. Since beginning my new placement, I wear a tie every day, spend time fixing my hair and keeping it trimmed, and keep an overall eye on my appearance. There are slip-ups, but they are far subtler than in my past experience.

As odd as it sometimes makes me feel, these changes in my appearance have catalyzed the change in my attitude. Because I dress like a professional, I act like a professional. My students sit in rows, I stand by my door to enforce tardies seven times a day, I complete a thorough dress code check at the beginning of every period, and I call parents on a regular basis to address misbehaviors. While this may be best practice, I was negligent about it at my old school and have since decided to be better.

I oftentimes wonder if, instead, I don’t want to be that teacher because that’s the teacher I was for my old students, and I don’t want to connect with my current students as I did with my past ones. After all, it was my connection with my students that kept me from pursuing my life in Louisville for as long as I did.

Regardless the cause or consequence, I find myself a far different Mr. Shaw than I was one year ago. Even as I type this, I realize that I require my current students to call me Mr. Shaw as opposed to just Shaw. And, whether or not this works out for me, it reminds me of one of the many things that sets my craft apart from others: the ability to decide who you want to be on a year-by-year basis. For whatever reason, I don’t yet want to be myself at my new school. Despite this, however, I am certain of one thing.

I am a teacher.