The Butterflies Never Went Away

There are six more weeks left in the semester and I must admit that, each time I enter the classroom, I still get nervous. Perhaps it has something to do with the power I wield over my students' academic careers and the sense that I don't feel wholly comfortable weighing and scoring another person's work. Grading is the worst part of teaching, but it's such a big part of the job.

I've worked really hard to create an atmosphere of trust and professionalism in my classroom so that my students feel comfortable in making comments. I do not play "guess what I'm thinking." I encourage them to participate and am usually interested in their differing perspectives. I doubt any of them walk into our class feeling uneasy or anxious, so why do I?

There is the aspect of performance that occurs inevitably, because I am at the front of the room. Being closer to the board is a bit like being on stage. I do sit atop my desk at times, using the prop as a chair. I try not to sit at the big desk because of the physical and mental barrier it would likely cause between myself and my students. I also sit among them in the little desks when they make presentations.

Still, even when it's not me "on stage," my stomach flutters, pitching a bit, like driving over a dip in the road. Perhaps it's because, as a student myself, I know about the vast continuum of teachers. I have learned from the good, the bad, and the horrendous. Yet, from that perspective, I have always endeavored to learn, regardless of the teaching method. So, why does it bother me so much to be a teacher?

I remember my brother asking my mom about being a dad when faced for the first time with fatherhood asking the question, "what if I'm a terrible father?" My mom answered, "the fact that you're thinking about it puts you miles ahead of the rest." Four children later, my brother is an ever-present parent who makes conscious decisions and tries his best to be a good dad. That doesn't mean he's perfect. He makes mistakes. He hurts feelings. Perhaps his children will need therapy, too.

Still, it is in wondering and perhaps feeling a bit uncomfortable, that I still strive to learn about being a role model, to discover more about being a good person. I attempt to strengthen my weaknesses, and do not rest easy with the status quo. I read and search for better ways of being a better teacher. I'm sure I will never wake up one day thinking that I'm perfect and that I no longer need to consider or improve this perspective. Maybe that's what makes me different from those who don't. It certainly means my butterflies aren't going away anytime soon.