Columnist experiences life as a student teacher

As soon as the bell rang, I knew I was doomed.

Twenty-four pairs of eyes stared at me as I nervously stood by English teacher Kelly Wissolik’s desk in the back of room 706, preparing to step into her shoes.

Just as I had no idea whether her size six and a half black heels would fit me, I did not know what to expect when Wissolik agreed to let me teach the first half an hour of her third-period freshman English class.

Once the chit-chat stopped, all the sweet, innocent freshmen looked up at me as if I were some wise and knowledgeable heroine who knew exactly what she was doing. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

That day, I was supposed to lead a discussion about who was responsible for the tragedy in “Romeo and Juliet,” a play I had not read for over a year. What if I could not answer one of their questions? What if I failed miserably and all the students laughed at me, as I pummeled into a pit of despair?

With these thoughts running through my head, I smiled in front of the class and introduced myself. First, I checked to see if everyone had completed their vocab homework. They were diligent students, so of course they all had.

Checking in with every single student and waiting as they flipped the pages seemed to last an eternity. When I put the answers up on the overhead, I had no idea when to scroll down or move on. In fact, someone actually asked me to scroll back up because I had moved on too fast.

But the hardest part was yet to come. Finally, the moment arrived when I actually had to get up in front of the class and teach them about “Romeo and Juliet” in order to prepare them for their test next class (no pressure). I had Wissolik’s master key for major discussion points, but I was nervous nonetheless.

Before we began the discussion, I handed out a worksheet for them to jot down their thoughts, fumbling with the papers in a desperate attempt to allot exactly three worksheets per row.

After passing them out, I waited silently for them to finish. One minute passed, then five minutes. I was still sitting there awkwardly, watching them move their pencils across the paper as I twiddled my thumbs silently. Because some students took more time than others, I began to wonder when I was supposed to interrupt their work.

Finally, Wissolik gave me the cue to start the discussion. I have no idea how she knew when to intervene, but her timing was perfect, as always.

When I posed the question, “Who was responsible for the tragedy in ‘Romeo and Juliet’?” I was met with silence … awkward silence. But slowly, one brave girl raised her hand, reviving my lost hope, and I called on her immediately.

Soon, as the freshmen started to feel more comfortable, almost every student contributed to the discussion. As they spoke one by one, I was supposed to keep a tally of how many times each student participated using a seating chart. For the first half, because I was so concentrated on the discussion, I completely forgot to keep track. Thankfully, Mrs. Wissolik kept her own tally, phew!

Although I was the one who was supposed to be doing the teaching, the freshmen did most of the talking. In fact, I was simply the mediator of the discussion, encouraging their feedback and adding a tiny sliver of information to their thoughtful responses.

All in all, although I was nervous at first, my experience teaching was rewarding and surprisingly harder than I expected. All the little things we take for granted, like passing out papers efficiently, taking roll or tallying participation, were legitimately difficult tasks for me.

I was pleasantly surprised to find out that my teaching was met with a positive response from the class. Who knows — maybe I will be a teacher when I grow up. But for now, I’ll stay in my seat in the student’s desk where I belong.