My Experience In The Classroom

During my instructor led field experience, I was placed in a first grade classroom. The teacher in this classroom really had a great grasp on management in her classroom. She used the Classdojo app. The teacher had the option to award student points or take them away throughout the day. This was also an app that kept parents informed on their devices of how their child was doing throughout the day. I really enjoyed seeing this in real life. Hearing about this app in management or technology didn't do it justice. The students really were aware of the points and managed their behavior.

As we pulled up to the massive elementary school building, I begged my mom to let me stay home from school, just once. As usual, she said no. Realizing my attempt to get out of school was futile, I shouldered my backpack, swung open the door, and trudged over to the front door. I would rather be anywhere else than here. For the majority of my life, I attended public schools. It wasn’t rare for me to fail a test or even a whole class. It was because of these failures that I would get even more demotivated and threw away the idea of working hard or completing quality work altogether.

My feet hit hard on the cold cement steps as I slightly jogged up to Armstrong hall. I stepped into the old building and saw my classroom right away. No one was in the hall and all I heard was the air conditioner blowing. I entered the room at 20 minutes to six there was only one kid sitting in the back of the room. The room was tiny and plastered white without one pop of color in it. I take a seat in the middle of the desks as they were all facing the front wall that had a huge whiteboard on it. I reached down into my backpack and pulled out a notebook and pencil. As I looked back up more students are starting to fill the room, and the professor walked in. I watched as people walked past me to go sit somewhere else and wondered who it would be that would sit in the empty cold chair next to me. I heard a laptop slammed onto the counter and I looked over at the professor. He had anger written all over his face as he struggled to hook up his laptop. I was expecting him to ask a student if anyone was good with technology and could help him. He did not speak up to ask one of us and he just sat there struggling till he finally gave up.

Despite the breakdowns I would experience from not understanding what was being taught in class, I was able to improve my situation. Instead of suffering in silence with my confusion, I began asking my teacher more questions during class lectures. I would even come in at seven in the morning to discuss my problem about understanding the logic behind the math with my teacher. Not only did I speak with my teacher more, I also bought a study book for the class and began watching Chemistry videos from Bozeman and Khan Academy to teach myself any topics that were not clear to me during class.

Today, December 9, 2017, the date of my first ever final exam in a, full semester, college class. This marks a very exciting but stressful time for me.

From what I have heard about elementary school in America, I can definitely say it is not like the experience I had in the Netherlands. My elementary school was an international school in the middle of a large Dutch city about an hour away from my house. International, meaning there were kids from all over the world there, sharing their culture and building lifelong friendships without even realizing it. I certainly did not realize the culture or friendships I had picked up on until much later on and have only now come to appreciate the time I spent at that school.

It was a good day, woke up early so i could go to the gym and warm my body up and just to get some practice in. Went home to my mother making breakfast as usual, started to get my things together for school like usual made sure I had all my books, computer and pencils. When I got to school it felt just like a regular day went to class like always i didn't have any test so that was a big load off. As it got closer to the end of the day the more nervous I started to feel I started to feel worried, nervous and scared but I did not know why I knew I was gonna be fine. It was an unusual feeling it was like my heart was feeling those emotions but in my head it was totally different i wasn't scared or nervous not even worried. It was my last class of the day the whole class i wasn't even focused on what was going on more on what was about to happen later. The bell rang school was over, it was time for tryouts.

My eyes had barely opened all the way before excitement set in. Today was the day. With one great leap I was out of bed, and in my clothes ready for school. I also got my clothing and other accessories ready for our long drive up Mt. Hood after school. My older sister, Christine, always went up the mountain to hot springs but I never got to experience anything like it, so the previous night, all the siblings that were going stood together against my mom's tyranny and managed to convince her to let us go to the hot springs. She never really gave a reason besides how late it was. I theorize that she didn't have any other excuses. She was unreasonable in that manner.

Going into English 111 in August, I had no idea what to expect. This was my first experience of college classes, and walking into the classroom on the first Tuesday of the semester, all I knew was it was going to be different. As the class period went on, however, we were introduced to Moodle and then the seven student learning outcomes. These made the goals of the class clearer to me.

Surrounded by all of the “Americans” I waved to my mother eager for her to finally leave and let me experience my first day of school. I had waited for the day I would finally be able to speak English, the language that I heard all of the other kids speak at the local park my mother took me to. English seemed like the most mysterious concept for my sister and I. So much so that her and I would start making up words in public, screaming gibberish at each other, hoping that people would think we were speaking the same language as them. Even though I was born in the United States, I was raised as a Pakistani, not an American. There were constant reminders by my parents that I am not an American. So when I was finally able to let go of my mother’s hand and walk off with the American kids into school I had the biggest smile on my face. I was so excited to be able to escape the circle I was in. Being 5 years old did not mean that I didn’t understand I was different. I knew my clothes were different then what the people on T.V. wore;

I’ve been anxious about college admittance since I first learned what college was. When the first trimester of fifth grade ended, and I learned that my good name had been sullied with a B+ grade in my reading class, I was unreservedly hysterical until my mother finally cornered me into my bedroom. I imagine she was getting snot-and-tear stains out of her woolen sweater for days.

In school, I have always been a relatively successful student, and I was always considered one of the smarter kids by my parents and a lot of the other students. In about sixth grade when they started to split the grade up into certain classes for the “advanced” kids and the kids that weren’t considered advanced. I was in the classes with all the kids that weren’t considered advanced. At the time though, I didn’t realize what they were doing or that I wasn’t actually considered a smart kid by the school, I just knew all my friends were in classes I wasn’t in, and it really upset me. I got put in the classes with a bunch of kids I didn’t like, or just people I didn’t know, and had never seen before. I still had the bus where I got to see a few of my friends, but other than that, they just weren’t around.

After self-evaluation, I feel that my most valuable assets as a potential teacher leader are handling conflict, listening, seeing the big picture, work ethic, and responsibility. I have always been a leader, therefore exhibiting these characteristics. In situations outside of school, I also find myself in leadership positions. For me to become a better potential teacher leader, I need to work on creativity and sensitivity. I have creativity but I’m always afraid to use it when it comes to lessons. I feel as although I can be more creative this coming school year, when I more towards middle school. Experience is something that I will get through teaching different subjects, grade-levels, and the years I teach.

This year started atrociously and I was asceticism to the fact that my job was keeping me from doing my finest in school. I look back at it not with disappointment but with the recognition that I can’t multi-task two major time-consuming activities. I was working 5-9pm, 6 days a week was physically and mentally exhausting I would always come to school tired. I would be tardy and or late every day in my 1st hour. At one point I was failing four classes. I would come home from work and be up until like 3 am. I was trying my best to keep up on like the essays but my ADHD made everything so hard. But it was so much I would end up stressing out. Semester one was just rough in general. I went to parent-teacher conferences and it opened my eyes but not enough for change. But by the end of conferences, my mom was crying because she wanted to know what was wrong. I wanted to tell her but I couldn’t. I’d rather self-destruct myself than have everyone worried about me. Then I was to a point when I just didn’t care what anyone else thought I just wanted to make money and blow it on materialistic things like clothes and shoes and things of those sorts. I was at a point where I literally let money control who I was and how I acted as a person. Finally came the day of the essay I really did try like my problem was I had all the information but didn’t know how to put it on paper and I also struggled with focusing on writing the paper because the number of pages overwhelmed me and then

There i was standing there in front of my classroom trying to prepare myself for the hell i was about to face today. I knew when i walked into that classroom, I would be tormented by not only the students but the teacher as well. This is what i went through for almost the past 4 years attending my elementary. I felt like an outcast, i was constantly told i wasn't good at anything and i believed that. I felt like everyone had something they were good at or excelled at and then there was just me. At this time I was 10 years old and attending Ridgewood elementary in Columbus Ohio. i had 5 classes at ridgewood and all of the classes and teachers treated me the same excluding one, art class with Mrs. Worley. Mrs. Worley was the only teacher that believed in me and thought i could do anything if i set my mind to it. On top of that i loved art, i loved to draw, paint, design and Mrs. Worley would always be fascinated by work. I remember that i would always stay in the art room during recess and draw. Mrs.Worley would always tell me that i had a talent for drawing and that lit something in me it was as if Jim was good at basketball, Sally was good at singing, David was good at math, and I was good at drawing.