The Rollercoaster Room

The air was thick with anticipation. It was the class that caused a rollercoaster of emotions. What students were going to walk into the classroom today? 

I can recall the worst teachers I’ve had in my own education. They were as bland as day-old bread that had been left out; forgotten by the butter knife, abandoned by the Nutella that still sat on the counter. Unmotivating. Unmoving. Unmalleable. I wanted to be none of those things. 

It was the final week of Term 1 and I felt as though I had thrown every creative and restorative way of teaching their way. None of them stuck. I was at my wits end, struggling to keep myself grounded on this rollercoaster. Maybe it was the tensions that clung to my own skin that I found myself in a state of disarray. The classroom was more unruly than I had ever seen; chairs were thrown, unrelated questions catapulted, and challenging accusations shot at my already tingling skin. It was no longer a rollercoaster but a theater of war: 30 against 1. I was outnumbered. 

It was a hard pill to swallow, to know that some students prefer the mundane. Games only sent them into a frenzy and attempting to get them to collaborate in creative ways, proved to be futile. I didn’t want anyone to observe this class. I was scared I hadn’t been doing enough. Swallowing yet another hard pill, I pushed my pride aside. My mentor came to observe the class, for what I thought would be in vain. I was surprised to hear the affirmations that I had been doing well, and that she’d had a flurry of positive feedback to give to me. We sat together in our meeting, where I remembered my favourite part of the job; pastoral care. In this setting, she was the teacher, and I was the student. We talked through my frustrations of how I was educated, or rather lack-there-of. She started to make connections and reassured me that it was not due to my own teaching style, but rather there was a necessary adjustment to my approach. This was the first time I realised how much I had pushed away from receiving help. My pride was still manning the rollercoaster and it steered me down the wrong path. It was fast, blinding, and overwhelming. The mechanical ride that should have been amusing, was pushing me further and further away from the right course. My mentor grounded me and I was happy to have my feet back on solid ground.

Critical Reflection

Bishop and Berryman talk about Responsive Pedagogy beginning with listening. I had forgotten to listen to what the students needed but rather took on my own negative experiences with education. Although I had provided every creative and restorative type of learning that I could have possibly needed in my own education, that I didn't listen to their need for the 'norm'. I was also void of seeking for help and being heard by my own mentor. Although this should have been regular practice, I was devoid of encouraging myself to take the risk. Along side this Responsive Pedagogy of listening and being heard, I neglected to see that "there is no shame in being a 'not knower' and where it is understood that everyone brings with them knowledge, ways of knowing, and experiences of value to share."

Continuously, I was told that I had created great relationships with the students, my teaching style was good, but I was lacking in creating the positive relationships students could have with their own education. This cloud overshadowed their ability to find a safe space that nurtured their learning. By accepting that there is "no shame" in "not knowing", I was able to find different ways to approach the classroom. Through this, I was able readjust my approach to benefit the Ako for the students both in the classroom and beyond.