Freedom, Friendships Top Teacher's Wish List

By Kendall Beaudry

The first day of school is just as nerve wracking for the teacher as for the students. I was reminded of that fact last summer when I, a white young doe from the woodsy Northwest, prepared to enter an inner-city classroom of gifted seventh-graders in Louisville, Kentucky.

As soon as I received the job offer from Summerbridge, a national nonprofit service learning organization, I hung up the phone and rushed to my atlas to locate the lost state of Kentucky. My assignment was to instruct writing to middle schoolers — students at the most awkward stage of puberty.

Three days before departure, my fellow Oregonians and I entertained all the tactless stereotypes of my new destination. Humidity and whiskey came to mind. However, my friends couldn't muster up any actual ideas of Derbyland because they were preoccupied with the thought of me teaching. I ignored their taunts to calm my nerves. But seventh grade kept flashing across my reverie — haunting me with memories of training bras, scoliosis testing, slow dances, and sex ed.

Then the first day arrived, and there was no more time for reverie.

"Is it true that in Orygun, they can't even pump their own gas?" That was the first question fired at my perspiring back. So much for classroom introductions. I was different, and it stood out.

"Didn't it hurt, getting yo' nose pierced?"

Day one: Prepare for humiliation.

"How many of you enjoy writing?" I asked, trying to sound hopeful.

"I hate writing," said Telicia, one who later grew fond of the pen-on-paper ritual. The rest groaned in chorus.

Despite my fresh degrees in journalism and political science, despite the nerve-wracking rituals of the first day of school, I find myself drawn to education. If I were to blindly pick a country on a spinning globe, I could envision teaching there. It is an intrinsic pull because teaching is an exchange of knowledge. Within this altruistic exchange, learning is reciprocated between two genres, crossing classes and ethnicities and cultures as different as those found in Oregon and Kentucky.

I have had the pleasure of teaching and learning from 70 inspiring children from the Louisville area. These students were chosen out of a teacher-recommended pool of 400. They are academically motivated but economically set back.

Since 1978, Summerbridge has coordinated summer workshops at sites all over the country. It is intended to enhance learning creatively with the guidance of young mentors. At the same time, it gives college students a taste of the teaching profession. Summerbridge selects young college students for these challenging classroom assignments because of a belief in their vitality and freshness for the job. No fancy technology is used, and the agenda is impromptu.

My training was not confined to concerns over tests, techniques, and courses, because this thinking is considered too linear. Instead, we fellow teachers shared ideas on how to captivate the imagination.

In the English department, my advisor helped us prepare by making up outlines and formatting them into weekly and monthly planners. I would have an objective to follow each week, such as fiction writing with lessons on indirect and direct objects. The approach to delivering the objective then was in each teacher's hands.

Although the middle of the week could pose challenges to keep integrating all learning abilities, the freedom given me was central to my growth in the classroom. Even during my failing moments, my self-esteem rarely waned because I felt comfortable asking for tips from my fellow staff members. Equally as important, I listened to the suggestions of my respectfully honest students who had the wherewithal to fold their arms tightly across their chest and blurt out, "I still don't get it!"

When I talk with my peers about what they will look for in a permanent teaching job, the biggest appeal is freedom. Summerbridge allowed me to use my own themes and approaches to teaching rather than insisting on harboring anyone else's methodology. My English teachers and advisor would meet frequently during the school week to bounce off ideas and problem solve repeated frustrations. The support I received from staff and students served as the motivation central to maintaining health and charisma. And charisma may be the most important attribute to exude because it will ensure a supply of teachers for subsequent generations.

Statistics tell us that many of today's children do not aspire to teach because of the obvious setbacks of salary, abating budgets, and burnout. These visible burdens are often voiced or whispered among staff members. Admonition can scarcely get by any perceptive student. But a teacher's pessimism resonates doubt within all students' purpose to attend class.

I can still name almost every teacher I learned from. Although I cannot even hope to remember a lesson, I can distinctly recall who these mentors, pedagogues, parents, and role models were and what made their blood pulse. They remain my sources of inspiration.

We are all aware of teacher shortages across the country. As a young adult preparing for my next career move, I know how to play the poker game of counter-offers. I can feel the desperation in a handshake from an administration that is just looking for warm bodies. The typical indices to measure a school's performance based on class size, salary, and test results contribute only a paucity to my final decision.

More important to me is the staff's familiarity with each other. Friendships, humility, and perseverance to stretch the elasticity of perfunctory standards cannot be packaged for a P.R. visit. I know I will need a mentor beyond the initial two months of laying out a secure foundation. I want to work in a setting where teachers can interact and share differences on a philosophical and practical standpoint in order to grow. This collaboration is what empowers teachers, by pushing the intellect above standards and setbacks.

After graduating from the University of Montana in May, Kendall Beaudry spent the summer teaching emotionally disturbed children and developmentally disabled adults in Homer, Alaska. Next: an editorial internship at Mother Jones magazine in San Francisco. But she adds, "I don't doubt that I will soon be teaching and learning again."