“Sometimes I’ll start a sentence and I don’t even know where it’s going. I just hope I find it along the way.”
Cut to Library. The teacher is pacing back and forth with a cell phone in her hand.
The teacher: Yes. Uh huh. Well — I mean, yeah. I hear you. She rolls her eyes with every word and sighs heavily until she finally interjects and speaks over the other person on the phone. The teacher: See, but the thing is… I am not using those plans because that’s why the kids aren’t scoring as well… well, yeah, I know, but…. listen, Mrs. Irvin. I have been researching. I have a plan and it’s going to work. If you don’t want me to do that, fine, but expect the same scores from last year and a C school. A very loud huff can be heard through the phone followed by a “fine!” The teacher runs into the principal’s office and sees he is already on the phone. Garth: (mouthing) I hate you. The teacher: Sorry. |
Me when trying to think about being professional.
Me being really professional on the last day of school 2016.
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This episode is about the teacher and her coworkers. It’s about how headstrong and blunt she is. It’s about learning how to negotiate her way around the people she works with. It’s an episode where we see the teacher put in her place in a way she needs.
In September of my second year, I had a not-so-pleasant conversation with my curriculum director about how I did not plan on using the curriculum she’d constructed (or more likely than not, paid someone to construct for her) because it did not adequately teach the standards in a way that would lead the students to success on the test. Needless to say, she immediately called my boss and told him to put me in my place, which he did… well, a little bit.
He sat me down, asked me if I knew what professional sensibility is and I laughed. He told me not to talk to the Mrs. Irvin again and to put in her lesson plans and do my own thing.
“And for goodness sake, Daria, just don’t tell her off. Then she tells me off and I have to tell you to act professional. Know when to nod and smile. Do what’s right for the kids and don’t worry about all these other people. You know who’s here for them, worry about those people and do not worry about the others. Just nod and smile.”
Being professional does not come as naturally to me as caring for the kids or creating fun lessons or attending games or calling parents. These are all part of being professional, yes, but when it comes to smiling and nodding, I’m not so good at holding my opinions in. Since I refuse to sit back and be quiet, I’ve learned new ways of voicing my opinions in meetings. I’m new, so I state everything in a question, asking if something would work instead of telling people to do it. Although it makes me uncomfortable, when someone makes me frustrated, I smile and nod instead of saying the list of things compiled in my head. In fact, only twice this year have I been, let’s say, blunt since my “professional integrity” conversation and both times, I asked for advice from my mentor on how to handle the situation.
When I think about professionalism, I look to my mentor, Karen Howard. She is our instructional coach, and she has coached me through conflicts with coworkers and kids. She’s helped me to embrace the role of department chair. She has been a listening ear during difficult times and has laughed with me as kids (or adults) in the school act a fool. I knock on the door of her cramped office and plop myself down to ask her what to do when I am unsure of something.
I think professionalism for me this year has been doing that: asking for help. A sign of maturity is realizing when you need someone to walk you through something because you’re not sure of how to do it. It’s sitting back and breathing before you talk through a conflict, thinking about how to approach someone with grace and kindness instead of haughtiness.
In September of my second year, I had a not-so-pleasant conversation with my curriculum director about how I did not plan on using the curriculum she’d constructed (or more likely than not, paid someone to construct for her) because it did not adequately teach the standards in a way that would lead the students to success on the test. Needless to say, she immediately called my boss and told him to put me in my place, which he did… well, a little bit.
He sat me down, asked me if I knew what professional sensibility is and I laughed. He told me not to talk to the Mrs. Irvin again and to put in her lesson plans and do my own thing.
“And for goodness sake, Daria, just don’t tell her off. Then she tells me off and I have to tell you to act professional. Know when to nod and smile. Do what’s right for the kids and don’t worry about all these other people. You know who’s here for them, worry about those people and do not worry about the others. Just nod and smile.”
Being professional does not come as naturally to me as caring for the kids or creating fun lessons or attending games or calling parents. These are all part of being professional, yes, but when it comes to smiling and nodding, I’m not so good at holding my opinions in. Since I refuse to sit back and be quiet, I’ve learned new ways of voicing my opinions in meetings. I’m new, so I state everything in a question, asking if something would work instead of telling people to do it. Although it makes me uncomfortable, when someone makes me frustrated, I smile and nod instead of saying the list of things compiled in my head. In fact, only twice this year have I been, let’s say, blunt since my “professional integrity” conversation and both times, I asked for advice from my mentor on how to handle the situation.
When I think about professionalism, I look to my mentor, Karen Howard. She is our instructional coach, and she has coached me through conflicts with coworkers and kids. She’s helped me to embrace the role of department chair. She has been a listening ear during difficult times and has laughed with me as kids (or adults) in the school act a fool. I knock on the door of her cramped office and plop myself down to ask her what to do when I am unsure of something.
I think professionalism for me this year has been doing that: asking for help. A sign of maturity is realizing when you need someone to walk you through something because you’re not sure of how to do it. It’s sitting back and breathing before you talk through a conflict, thinking about how to approach someone with grace and kindness instead of haughtiness.