My name is Michelle Christie Theresa Watt. My father’s name is Christopher Michael, so my name isn’t much of a surprise. My Mom hates nick names so I have always been “Michelle,” not Shelly, not Mich, just Michelle. When I played high school basketball I was called “Nicky Mouse,” don’t ask why, not that I won’t tell you, I just truly don’t know. I have been a “Watt” for 17 years this November (Thank you), before that I was a Rogers. Growing up, when asked what my name was, I would answer: “Michelle Rogers, two ls and no d.” Very often people would look at me confused first and then they would process what I said and smile and nod and generally write my name correctly. I have always liked my name, despite being the second Michelle in every class growing up and actually one of four Michelle Moms on my son’s hockey team. Until this week. This week I have decided I am moving to a country that cannot pronounce “Mrs. Watt.”
I am a new teacher and I am new to grade four. I understand that these children are not quite in the double digits for birthdays and my expectations for how independent they can be may have started a little high, as in Mt. Everest is just a little climb. Since the beginning of the school year, I have reflected on my day and how it can be better tomorrow. I have instituted routines that we have been doing for six weeks. I am strict but not unrealistic. But, this class has me baffled.
I have learned to dread recess, which is odd because it is generally the ten minutes in a teacher’s day that allows us to recharge. What recess means to my class is a fresh opportunity to tattle on their classmates: Sally budged in line at the Saturn, Jimmy swore, Bobby pushed me. Sometimes when putting out the recess fires (as I have come to call them) I will walk the students through conflict resolution and they have already completed the process, for some reason the feel the need to include me. I love to feel needed, maybe not this much.
This week was my breaking point. Monday I left school not wanting to go back, today I walked into the staffroom at lunch and asked who I handed my resignation into. I am exaggerating – maybe a little, but the underlying sentiments are there. So I decided to let my students know. With my own children I often let them know what I am feeling. “Mommy is in a bad mood so you might want to just go watch TV.” I told my students that I want to change my name, that I cannot handle one more Mrs. Watt (generally it is never one Mrs. Watt). This is what I said:
I chose the field of Education because I love helping children. I love watching children learn, and I enjoy being part of that process. However, I cannot help them learn if I spend all of my time putting fires out. It breaks my heart that I do not have the time in the day to hear everything they want to tell me. I wish I could sit with every student for an hour or two and hear what they have to tell me. I asked them not to put me in the position of having to shut them down and send them away. (I might have cried just a little when I delivered this speech, I tend to be a little emotional when talking about what I am passionate about)
What we are going to try for now is a token system. They will receive two tokens a day (I was going to do three, but I did the math and that was way too much) which will allow them to ask me random questions. I assured them that subject related questions will be addressed. I also have a life size skeleton in the room who the class has named “Bones” and he holds a bucket that students can drop letters/notes into. I have explained that if I shut them down or they do not feel comfortable asking their question, they may write it down and I will address concerns as they arise. My Bones Box has worked well, I am currently addressing a bullying situation that was expressed in writing and left in the box.
I start every day anew. Each day is a fresh start for my students and I. I do not hold against them what happened the day before, and I forgive myself for not being a better person and teacher. I approach each day hoping to make a difference in a child’s life, to show them how important they are to me and that I care for them.
That’s My View from the 86th Pew, Michelle
I am a new teacher and I am new to grade four. I understand that these children are not quite in the double digits for birthdays and my expectations for how independent they can be may have started a little high, as in Mt. Everest is just a little climb. Since the beginning of the school year, I have reflected on my day and how it can be better tomorrow. I have instituted routines that we have been doing for six weeks. I am strict but not unrealistic. But, this class has me baffled.
I have learned to dread recess, which is odd because it is generally the ten minutes in a teacher’s day that allows us to recharge. What recess means to my class is a fresh opportunity to tattle on their classmates: Sally budged in line at the Saturn, Jimmy swore, Bobby pushed me. Sometimes when putting out the recess fires (as I have come to call them) I will walk the students through conflict resolution and they have already completed the process, for some reason the feel the need to include me. I love to feel needed, maybe not this much.
This week was my breaking point. Monday I left school not wanting to go back, today I walked into the staffroom at lunch and asked who I handed my resignation into. I am exaggerating – maybe a little, but the underlying sentiments are there. So I decided to let my students know. With my own children I often let them know what I am feeling. “Mommy is in a bad mood so you might want to just go watch TV.” I told my students that I want to change my name, that I cannot handle one more Mrs. Watt (generally it is never one Mrs. Watt). This is what I said:
I chose the field of Education because I love helping children. I love watching children learn, and I enjoy being part of that process. However, I cannot help them learn if I spend all of my time putting fires out. It breaks my heart that I do not have the time in the day to hear everything they want to tell me. I wish I could sit with every student for an hour or two and hear what they have to tell me. I asked them not to put me in the position of having to shut them down and send them away. (I might have cried just a little when I delivered this speech, I tend to be a little emotional when talking about what I am passionate about)
What we are going to try for now is a token system. They will receive two tokens a day (I was going to do three, but I did the math and that was way too much) which will allow them to ask me random questions. I assured them that subject related questions will be addressed. I also have a life size skeleton in the room who the class has named “Bones” and he holds a bucket that students can drop letters/notes into. I have explained that if I shut them down or they do not feel comfortable asking their question, they may write it down and I will address concerns as they arise. My Bones Box has worked well, I am currently addressing a bullying situation that was expressed in writing and left in the box.
I start every day anew. Each day is a fresh start for my students and I. I do not hold against them what happened the day before, and I forgive myself for not being a better person and teacher. I approach each day hoping to make a difference in a child’s life, to show them how important they are to me and that I care for them.
That’s My View from the 86th Pew, Michelle
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