The Rock Star Complex
Some of the best young teachers are some of the unhealthiest. This is perhaps one of the most clumsy statements I will ever make on this blog, hopefully. I am a young teacher. I've faired well considering how chaotic and new teaching is for a first year teacher.
In my short time at this fabulous and tough school, I've watched the rock star complex fester itself in my friends/coworkers making them hit rock bottom.
Consider this example: Standing in the hallway during passing time one of my juniors approached me about a scholarship essay topic. Knowing this student is quietly starting a revolution in free speech in his community, I urged him to explore this topic and why it would knock out the competition. After I wrapped up my grand idea, he turned to me and said, "Ms. E, you are the only teacher I truly listen to every word said. I mean it. You just talked to me for five minutes straight, and I usually listen to other people talk for about thirty seconds before I space them out."
I'm pretty sure that I had an extra bounce in my step as I hurried myself to my classroom. In fact, I know I felt a physical response, a celebration. Just knowing that all your efforts to help students capitalize on their strengths and harness success creates a high. Then add verbal and literal approbation - wow.
An addiction starts.
Teachers always work hard for their students' welfare. Always. Hardly ever is it about them. Never do I, or my friends/coworkers, sit down and think about if students will like them for a lesson they created - or if it will make them cool. Nonetheless, knowing that you are one of the cool teachers starts to thrust you in new and positive directions in your teaching and relationships. It's a basic concept, positive reinforcement works on teachers too. Some days I feel so good and love my job so much that I could stay at school until the alarm system sounded at eleven.
But I know healthy teachers have healthy lives outside of schools. I know that teachers who bring experiences outside the classroom into the classroom are the best.
Teachers who thrust themselves into this rock star status in their schools become so intertwined in it that they don't see the addiction. They start to feel so proud of their greatness in school, even if they are modest, that the success of their job spills over into their personal lives. Teaching becomes the first thing you mention when someone asks you to describe yourself. You say it with pride too.
Teachers' identities become so wrapped up in rock star status that when they leave their profession for unforeseen reasons, they crash. They literally go through withdrawal of the high that students directly and indirectly give teachers. They struggle with their identity.
I want to be a great teacher, but I don't want to be only a teacher. As a single, young, dedicated worker, I'm worried that even my awareness of my made-up Rock Star Complex will be hard to avoid.
Until recently, the biggest things I noticed in my teaching were my failures. My reflections always focused on which classes seemed challenging, how to improve them, what lessons bombed, etc. Lately though, my classes are seamless. Students look at me with big eyes as I talk, they get excited over my lesson, they try new things, they listen when I tell them I expect better and then do better, they come to me when they have problems and need advice, they trust me, and how does a teacher not start to feel like the shit when the tide of chaos turns?
In my short time at this fabulous and tough school, I've watched the rock star complex fester itself in my friends/coworkers making them hit rock bottom.
Consider this example: Standing in the hallway during passing time one of my juniors approached me about a scholarship essay topic. Knowing this student is quietly starting a revolution in free speech in his community, I urged him to explore this topic and why it would knock out the competition. After I wrapped up my grand idea, he turned to me and said, "Ms. E, you are the only teacher I truly listen to every word said. I mean it. You just talked to me for five minutes straight, and I usually listen to other people talk for about thirty seconds before I space them out."
I'm pretty sure that I had an extra bounce in my step as I hurried myself to my classroom. In fact, I know I felt a physical response, a celebration. Just knowing that all your efforts to help students capitalize on their strengths and harness success creates a high. Then add verbal and literal approbation - wow.
An addiction starts.
Teachers always work hard for their students' welfare. Always. Hardly ever is it about them. Never do I, or my friends/coworkers, sit down and think about if students will like them for a lesson they created - or if it will make them cool. Nonetheless, knowing that you are one of the cool teachers starts to thrust you in new and positive directions in your teaching and relationships. It's a basic concept, positive reinforcement works on teachers too. Some days I feel so good and love my job so much that I could stay at school until the alarm system sounded at eleven.
But I know healthy teachers have healthy lives outside of schools. I know that teachers who bring experiences outside the classroom into the classroom are the best.
Teachers who thrust themselves into this rock star status in their schools become so intertwined in it that they don't see the addiction. They start to feel so proud of their greatness in school, even if they are modest, that the success of their job spills over into their personal lives. Teaching becomes the first thing you mention when someone asks you to describe yourself. You say it with pride too.
Teachers' identities become so wrapped up in rock star status that when they leave their profession for unforeseen reasons, they crash. They literally go through withdrawal of the high that students directly and indirectly give teachers. They struggle with their identity.
I want to be a great teacher, but I don't want to be only a teacher. As a single, young, dedicated worker, I'm worried that even my awareness of my made-up Rock Star Complex will be hard to avoid.
Until recently, the biggest things I noticed in my teaching were my failures. My reflections always focused on which classes seemed challenging, how to improve them, what lessons bombed, etc. Lately though, my classes are seamless. Students look at me with big eyes as I talk, they get excited over my lesson, they try new things, they listen when I tell them I expect better and then do better, they come to me when they have problems and need advice, they trust me, and how does a teacher not start to feel like the shit when the tide of chaos turns?
Ha ha. You can't fight the blogger addiction for long. Thanks for the link.
Posted by
nrlaumei |
7:10 PM
I like the new look.
Posted by
wanderer |
10:07 AM
I liked the post. I know the feeling, though I don't think I have nearly enough time to build relationships like you are. Excellent work, Aim-dizzle.
Posted by
Jonathan |
10:09 AM