INTRODUCTION

YOU'RE HIRED

"How's it going in here?"

I was standing on a chair in the middle of my classroom trying to hang tissue paper lanterns using a paperclip to wedge the string between the light fixture and ceiling tile when I heard a voice coming from my doorway. It's worth mentioning that I'm only five foot, three inches on a good day, so I had the added obstacle of standing on my tippy toes and still barely reached the ceiling. I delicately turned around and braced myself to be scolded by whoever this was at my door because I was almost certainly committing either an OSHA violation, fire code violation, or both.

I caught a glimpse of her face and instantly knew she looked familiar but couldn't remember who she was or where I had seen her before. Did she work in the front office? Was she the librarian? The past two weeks since I was hired as a first-year teacher had been an absolute whirlwind, and I was still trying to catch my breath. I had attended more meetings than I could count and left each one more confused than when I went in. I had met and shook hands with dozens of my new coworkers, only to forget their names seconds later. She smiled at me but waited patiently for my answer before saying anything else.

"Honestly, I don't know what I'm doing and feel like I'm going to throw up but other than that . I'm great!"

Humor. This was, and still is, my coping mechanism when I feel uncomfortable.

"Well, let us know if you need anything from us!"

My joke obviously didn't land. In that moment of failed comedy, I realized who she was. I had just told my assistant principal, who had hired me two weeks ago, that I had no idea what I was doing. Crap. I could feel the blood rushing to my face as she disappeared from my doorway, surely headed back to her office to call HR and tell them she had made a huge mistake when she hired me.

"Ms. Ferré?"

Well, that was fast. I was standing directly under the intercom speaker and could practically feel the sound waves vibrating throughout my entire body. This was it. This would be my last moment as a teacher.

"Yes?"

"We're making an adjustment to your class list. We are moving a student to another second grade class just to balance things out. Check your email for the updated roster."

Click. The intercom cut off, and I could finally process everything that had just transpired in the past 30 seconds. Let's see . I told my assistant principal I wanted to throw up. Not my best moment but not my worst. I still had a class list, which meant I still had a job. Wonderful! A wave of relief washed over me but was quickly replaced with an even stronger feeling of humiliation. I knew what "balance things out" was code for. I was new, but I wasn't stupid.

I was hired at twenty years old as a first-year teacher with no real classroom experience besides my student teaching internship, which was glorified hand-holding. Word had gotten out to parents in the community that I was inexperienced, and they were requesting to move their children out of my class. Ouch. Don't get me wrong . I expected to receive pushback as a new teacher. I anticipated the questions, the concerns, and the doubt from parents because I was feeling the exact same skepticism toward myself. Unfortunately, that didn't make it sting any less. I had exactly one week to pick my pride up off the floor, somehow discover my nonexistent confidence, and step into the spotlight in my classroom.

SHOWTIME

"Good morning! I'm Ms. Ferré and I'm going to be your second grade teacher this year. I'm so excited you're in my class!" I had rehearsed these opening lines in my head about a hundred times as if I was preparing to give an acceptance speech for an award. Spoiler alert: my first day of teaching was definitely not an Oscar-worthy performance. Despite my best effort, the words escaped my mouth jumbled and nervy as I greeted students on the first day of school. It worked in my favor, or so I thought, that most of the students were every bit as nervous as I was so they funneled in and took their seats quietly while I aimlessly bounced around the room like a pinball that desperately needed some bumpers for guidance.

"I don't feel so good ." A small boy was walking toward me with both of his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. I recognized his picture from the class list and remembered he was the boy who just transferred from another school within the county.

"You're probably just feeling nervous because it's the first day of school. Here, let me show you your desk and help you unpa-"

My fake-it-until-you-make-it teaching mentality may not have been in the running for any Oscar nominations but I truly believe this singular moment should have won an Academy Award for Best Live Action Short Film. I was fifteen minutes into my first day of teaching, my shoes were now covered in vomit (more on that in a later chapter), and no less than ten different emotions had swept across my face in a matter of seconds. It was truly an incredible performance. I took an imaginary bow in my head while my audience of wide-eyed second graders eagerly awaited the next scene.

I prayed for some movie magic as I looked at the clock and desperately hoped it read 3:45 so I could go home. Nope. Nine o'clock. The day wasn't a wrap, but it was time to take my students to art, and I welcomed the opportunity to collect myself. I could handle this. I guided my students into something that resembled a line and we chaotically entered the hallway. The line leader followed my directions through the maze of classrooms until we arrived at what I thought was the art room . but why were the lights off? My students waited patiently against the wall while I double-checked the placard outside the door. Art. It said art. I peeked my head through the doorway and quickly scanned the room. A feeling of pure panic washed over me as I realized there were no paint palettes or brushes, and, more importantly, there was no art teacher. I reluctantly returned to my former line that now resembled a squiggle of students and decided to improvise.

"We're a little early so we are just going to practice walking in the hallway for a bit." I had bought myself time, but sadly my next move was still a mystery. My eyes darted around as I nervously began leading my class along the colored tile floor without a destination in sight. After what felt like an eternity of aimless walking, I finally made eye contact with another staff member who, thankfully, must have either seen the look of terror plastered all over my face or been able to smell my fear because she stopped to help me without drawing too much attention. We exchanged a few whispers, and she informed me that the art room had been moved to a portable classroom in the fenced area outside of the main school building. In other words, the exact last place I would have looked for it. She deserved a standing ovation for her performance as Best Supporting Role in the horror film that was my first day of teaching.

BEHIND THE SCENES

Like a fish out of water, suddenly I was a teacher fresh out of college and I was terrified to admit I felt more out of place than I ever could have imagined. When I was studying all the educational theories and best teaching practices while earning my degree, everything made sense. I had attended all the lectures, created detailed lesson plans, gotten hundreds of hours of hands-on experience in real classrooms, worked with incredible mentor teachers, and answered questions well enough in my interview to be hired for my current role. In theory, I was ready to be a teacher.

But the moment I stepped foot into my own classroom, I struggled to put what I had learned into practice. It was like giving a student basic directions that were confidently acknowledged as understood with a thumbs up only to have the student immediately forget everything you just told her when she returned to her seat to actually start the assignment (except I was the confused student in this situation instead of the teacher). The issue wasn't the knowledge or understanding, it was the execution. Most of the strategies you learn in college are designed for "ideal" circumstances, but real-life classrooms are far from textbook. This leaves you feeling inadequate, defective, and defeated when you try to implement them but no matter how hard you try, they aren't working. You feel as if you are the reason the strategies are failing, when in actuality the strategies are vague, outdated, and not easily applicable to a variety of situations. But regardless of the reasoning, the realities aren't matching your expectations and your passion is fizzling.

I have wanted to be a teacher since I was in second grade myself. It's cliché, but it's true. I held school for all the neighborhood kids on my front porch on the weekends and during the summer, complete with a whiteboard easel I begged my parents for, printed worksheets I somehow discovered for free online, and, yes, assigned homework I fully expected to be completed by the next day. Everyone who knew me knew I wanted to be a teacher, which of course meant they shared their opinions with me, often unsolicited. I heard all the cautionary tales about how hard it would be, how little I...