Kickball: A Cure-All

I am winding down the last week of my fifth year of teaching school. I’ve taught ninth grade English for half a decade, folks. That statement literally makes me a little queasy. Looking back, I remember the past five years unfolding pretty smoothly; however, when I take some time to think about it, I realize there have been more than a few bumps in the educational road. Nonetheless, I’ve survived, and I’d like to think that I have learned a few lessons over the past five years.

1. Always have an emergency contact…I realize you’re probably thinking I’ve had some sort of crazy injury or medical emergency while at work which is not exactly the case. By emergency contact, I mean someone to call when you are so overwhelmed by the thirty blank, souless stares glaring back at you for eight hours a day that you must speak to someone outside of the walls of the school in order to remind yourself that fourteen year olds do not reflect an accurate representation of what is good or right or important in this world. The first day of school five years ago I had spent countless hours making sure I had everything ready to go. I was clueless and scared to death and dying to be doing anything other than starting my life as a public school teacher. Nonetheless, I trudged forward surviving the first period of class. It was a whirlwind of weird smells and failed jokes and awkward “I’m an adult. Can’t you tell?” portrayal that any barely twenty-two year old teacher has to go through. I remember the bell ringing and kids filing out and frantically trying to regroup and reorganize for my second period class. I was shuffling papers and erasing boards and running around like a crazy person. I waited and waited and waited. I stood at the front of the room with a plastered fake smile (yes, I managed a fake smile) and no one showed up. There were no kids. I panicked thinking that maybe there was some weird mid-day classroom switch and envisioned thirty kids sitting in a different place waiting on me. I started to walk out of the room to ask where to go when I realized that second period was my planning period. I immediately closed my door and called my mom who listened to me cry (yes, I literally cried) about how I didn’t want to be a teacher or an adult or anyone at that point. She talked me down from the ledge and I eventually pulled myself together for third period. It was difficult though. And awful. But what I realize now is that the rest of my first day of school is hardly even a memory in my mind. I don’t know what happen during the rest of that day, but I do remember that conversation with my mom.

As a person who devotes their life to interacting with adolescents (or children) on a regular basis, it is imperative that there be a ready and willing group of adults who are always available to remind you that it is not normal to have a job that involves dealing with the irrational world of high school all over again. You must always have someone that will answer the phone during second period on Wednesday. Always.

2. Be an expert at delayed gratification…One of the weird parts about teaching school is that the warm and fuzzy feel good moments in which a student comes full circle and transforms into a clean, well-dressed, articulate adult right in front of your eyes doesn’t actually happen right in front of your eyes. I generally witness students leaving high school as eighteen year olds who are not exactly articulate or transformed. On occasion you can see the beginnings of a productive citizen under the overly confident, usually selfish shell of high school graduates, but more often you wonder how in the world that kid is going to ever make something out of themselves. But they do. They must. I haven’t seen it happen quite yet, but I assume that there is some experience waiting for me in the years to come that will make my time as an educator make sense. I hope. In the meantime, you must constantly remind yourself that they are just kids and they probably don’t know any better, and you must sit and wait for that magical moment years from now on the frozen food aisle in Wal-Mart when a former student calls you Mrs. Prater and you cringe and turn around to see a ninth grader in a thirty year old’s body with three young kids in her cart who finally wants to thank you for being someone who cared all those years ago. Delayed gratification at its finest.

3. Never underestimate the power of a parent…I have had some of the weirdest interactions with parents as a teacher. I have had parents yell at me. I have had parents accuse me of purposely ruining their child’s grade. I have had parents follow me into a public restroom to ask me why their child does not play on a team. I have had parents hit on me. I have had a grown man harass me in a gym full of parents with alcohol so strong on his breath that I thought maybe I was drunk when he finally left. I have had parents spend over an hour recapping their early years as the personal photographer for President Nixon and then (same guy) enlighten me on the wise investment in Iraqi currency (dinar) that he could allow me to take advantage of for a buy in price of only $150 (by the way, this conversation somehow happened in a small closet full of copy paper). I have had some weird moments to say the least. Through it all though, I have come to understand that most parents love their kids more than I can probably ever know, and they all want the best for those kids even if they are a little inappropriate or abusive or crazy or drunk.

4. Get lost when it’s right…One of the things I’ve learned more recently as an educator is to really savor the moments when working with kids is fun. Let me give you an example…the other day I found myself with a group of students who had just recently finished a standardized test and had nothing to do for a couple of hours until the bell. In order to fill some time, the kids wanted to play kickball. My initial response was an adamant “no.” A bunch of wild kids kicking balls at each other can be sheer craziness. Nonetheless, against my better judgment I volunteered to take the kids who wanted to play outside on the promise that I would also get to play. Only a few minutes later, I found myself standing on a baseball diamond rolling a ball to a bunch of kids who couldn’t be any happier. It was May. It was sunny outside. On top of that, I somehow made an unprecedented, unassisted triple play in the bottom of the fourth. It was great. At some point I looked around and realized that being a teacher and coach certainly has its perks. I think the longer I teach the more I realize that moments that are not spent in a traditional classroom setting focused solely on work are some of the best moments as not only a student, but a teacher also. We must take advantage of the silliness and fun that can come from being a kid. We must allow young people to be young every once in a while and act silly and play kickball. I know that when I think back to my own high school experience the moments that meant the most to me were not centered around a textbook. I always really appreciated teachers who were something more than teachers. Teachers who were also people. There are a few moments every school year when students and teachers just become people and those are the moments that you have to hold tight for they allow you to endure the rest of the days. 

And when all else fails, you just have to play kickball.