Unapologetic: Reconciling Professional Identity
Hindsight is not always 20/20, but the passage of time usually provides clarity and perspective. I started teaching at the tender age of 22, and I knew the job would be a challenge. I thought the challenges would come from disrespectful students, over-crowded classrooms, and disengaged supervisors. I was right about all of those things. There were many tests I didn't expect, though. One I didn't anticipate was the struggle of reconciling my teacher identity to my real identity.
As a young adult, the need for identity fluidity never arose. (I need to take a minute to recognize that it certainly not the case for all young people.) Sure, I had a job where I had to act relatively professionally. Full disclosure, I worked at an eyeglass retailer and sold glasses. It was a really interesting job for a college student. I wore nicer clothes and refrained from using profanity. But the disparity between that professionalism and my natural self was not all that great. I could make a joke or step outside my role as "eyeglass salesperson" without the possibility of derailing my entire workday. The repercussions if I had a negative encounter with a customer were short-lived.
My first teaching job was true trial-by-fire. I was hired midyear to replace a beloved 7th grade Language Arts teacher who had taken a different position. My classroom was in a newer building on campus. It had a wall of windows that looked out to a tall Spanish Oak tree. When I entered the field of teaching, I planned to use my sense of humor as a tool to engage with and relate to students. The problem with that approach was clear early on. Without a firm grasp of classroom management and pedagogy, a simple joke could turn the whole class period into a chaotic game of whack-a-mole. So, upon the recommendations of the illustrious Harry Wong, I did what many first year teachers do, I became a rigid and authoritarian teacher, in other words, a total bitch. To be fair, Harry Wong does not advocate for an authoritarian approach, but most new teacher books advise a more strict demeanor at the beginning of the school year.
I HATED having to be a bitch. It was not something with which I was familiar (there may be a few people who disagree, but whatevs.) I wanted my students to behave because they liked me, not because they were afraid of me. After enough days in the classroom, that identity seemed to take hold of me, and it became very difficult to shift back and forth between the old me and the strict, marmy, school teacher me.
I stepped away from the classroom in part because that transition was so difficult and I was sick of feeling like I had to be unlikable in order to be effective. Now, after years of growth and reflection and huge life events, I have reentered the profession with a new charge. Before, teaching was just a job with a noble connotation. Now I recognize it as a complicated and evolving profession with the ultimate cause. I've nearly completed a graduate program in educational leadership, so my perspective on school leadership has shifted dramatically, too. One of the first posts I ever published was a plea to administrators to come out of their "quiet sanctuaries." HA! Little did I know. I've left that post up because it's a great marker of the passage of time, but also because some of my requests are still relevant.
And now another year is upon us. 2018 is full of resolutions and goals and dreams and potential and the healthy dash of fear that comes with all that. I don't set resolutions because I find that they end up doing more harm than good when I inevitably don't keep them. However, I think having a deliberate intention or vision for the year is a great way to acknowledge the transition from one year to the next, so this year I chose a guiding word: unapologetic.
In 2018 I will live unapologetically. I will not second guess my words or my decisions. I will take comfort in my own intuition and my own skill. I will own my fluid identity and recognize that I am a woman AND a mother AND a daughter AND a teacher AND a writer AND a creator and that all of those things can live happily together in the same soul. I can be all that I am. Unapologetically.
As a young adult, the need for identity fluidity never arose. (I need to take a minute to recognize that it certainly not the case for all young people.) Sure, I had a job where I had to act relatively professionally. Full disclosure, I worked at an eyeglass retailer and sold glasses. It was a really interesting job for a college student. I wore nicer clothes and refrained from using profanity. But the disparity between that professionalism and my natural self was not all that great. I could make a joke or step outside my role as "eyeglass salesperson" without the possibility of derailing my entire workday. The repercussions if I had a negative encounter with a customer were short-lived.
My first teaching job was true trial-by-fire. I was hired midyear to replace a beloved 7th grade Language Arts teacher who had taken a different position. My classroom was in a newer building on campus. It had a wall of windows that looked out to a tall Spanish Oak tree. When I entered the field of teaching, I planned to use my sense of humor as a tool to engage with and relate to students. The problem with that approach was clear early on. Without a firm grasp of classroom management and pedagogy, a simple joke could turn the whole class period into a chaotic game of whack-a-mole. So, upon the recommendations of the illustrious Harry Wong, I did what many first year teachers do, I became a rigid and authoritarian teacher, in other words, a total bitch. To be fair, Harry Wong does not advocate for an authoritarian approach, but most new teacher books advise a more strict demeanor at the beginning of the school year.
I HATED having to be a bitch. It was not something with which I was familiar (there may be a few people who disagree, but whatevs.) I wanted my students to behave because they liked me, not because they were afraid of me. After enough days in the classroom, that identity seemed to take hold of me, and it became very difficult to shift back and forth between the old me and the strict, marmy, school teacher me.
I stepped away from the classroom in part because that transition was so difficult and I was sick of feeling like I had to be unlikable in order to be effective. Now, after years of growth and reflection and huge life events, I have reentered the profession with a new charge. Before, teaching was just a job with a noble connotation. Now I recognize it as a complicated and evolving profession with the ultimate cause. I've nearly completed a graduate program in educational leadership, so my perspective on school leadership has shifted dramatically, too. One of the first posts I ever published was a plea to administrators to come out of their "quiet sanctuaries." HA! Little did I know. I've left that post up because it's a great marker of the passage of time, but also because some of my requests are still relevant.
And now another year is upon us. 2018 is full of resolutions and goals and dreams and potential and the healthy dash of fear that comes with all that. I don't set resolutions because I find that they end up doing more harm than good when I inevitably don't keep them. However, I think having a deliberate intention or vision for the year is a great way to acknowledge the transition from one year to the next, so this year I chose a guiding word: unapologetic.
In 2018 I will live unapologetically. I will not second guess my words or my decisions. I will take comfort in my own intuition and my own skill. I will own my fluid identity and recognize that I am a woman AND a mother AND a daughter AND a teacher AND a writer AND a creator and that all of those things can live happily together in the same soul. I can be all that I am. Unapologetically.
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