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Hannah Best

Dr. Sarah Thomas

TEAC 403B

19 April 2019

What is a Teacher?

A teacher can be defined as, “a person who teaches, especially in a school.” At its most

basic form, a teacher is someone who, simply, teaches. But, when you think about the best

teachers, they do so much more than teach: they inspire, they engage, they love, they influence.

As I enter the final few weeks of my student teaching, I question what the role of a teacher in

today’s society really is. Can a teacher really be considered ​good ​if all they do is teach?

Growing up, I had a lot of good teachers. They taught me what I needed to know to be

successful for the next steps. I had good relationships with some of my teachers, but I never

really saw them as much more than someone who knew everything while I knew nothing. As a

young student, I believed the main function of a teacher was to provide students with information

to learn and memorize. As Paulo Freire often refers to in “Pedagogy of the Oppressed,” this

would fall under the category of the “banking concept” of pedagogy--where the teacher deposits

information to the student, and the student is nothing but an empty vessel to be filled with

knowledge. For eighteen years of my life, I believed that this is the way that education was

supposed to work.

Throughout my early years in college, I knew that I wanted to be a teacher, but I honestly

wasn’t quite sure why. Growing up, I knew that I wanted to help those who were less fortunate

than me. I never had found pleasure in telling people what to do and often got nervous speaking
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in front of people (two things which I thought were instrumental to being a teacher), but I still

knew that I wanted to teach. As I entered the English Education cohort my junior year, I wasn’t

sure if I was smart enough or authoritative enough to be successful in this career. As I advanced

throughout the cohort experience, I began to learn that my insecurities were actually what were

going to make me a great teacher. Since then, I have learned that being humble about my

successes and failures as a teacher and as a human being have greatly benefited me as an

educator.

During my student teaching at Dawes, I take my fifth period LaCA class (7th graders) to

and from lunch. They are an energetic bunch, so it can be challenging to get them to walk civilly

in the hallways. We were able to get to lunch okay, but we were having some troubles lining up

and staying quiet on our way back from lunch, so much so that it was significantly cutting into

our class time every day. I tried a lot of different strategies to get us back on time, and nothing

was working. After a particularly challenging day, I told my students that I was going to have to

start picking them up early from recess so that we could get back to class on time. They were not

pleased, to say the least. They did not understand and said it was unfair. I was frustrated and did

not know what else to do. So, I sat in front of the class and had an honest conversation with

them. I said, “I’ve tried a lot of different strategies and nothing is working-- we are still

extremely noisy and disruptive when coming back from lunch. The only other thing I can think

of is to start taking away recess time.” After some mumbles and more complaints, I said, “I’m

new at this. I’m still learning how to be a teacher. I’m trying to figure out what is going to work

best for our class and, no, I don’t have all the answers. If you have suggestions of what might

work, I am willing to listen and try.” Being vulnerable and humbling myself in front of my class
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was hard, but it was necessary in order for us to get past this issue we were facing. After that, I

could tell that my students’ perspectives had changed. They didn’t see me as an evil person who

wanted to take their recess time away, but they saw me as a human who makes mistakes and who

is learning. This example in my classroom reminds me of something Urbanski said: “We can’t be

afraid of making mistakes or not knowing the answer, because these are the true teachable

moments in our classrooms. It’s the humanity of the teacher-coach that gives the student the

confidence to trust, and then take a risk and learn” (51). These words remind me that being

vulnerable and having humility in front of my students is always worth the risk.

Everyday, I am learning that the list of roles a teacher plays just keeps growing. While

some of my students tend to overshare personal information with me, I appreciate that they feel

comfortable enough to confide in me. Not only do they want to share ​their​ lives with me, they

are very interested in ​my​ personal life. I get all kinds of questions, and they are usually asked at

the most innapropriate of times. On multiple occasions I have had students blurt out questions

like, “Are you ​just ​white?” and “Skin care tips?” while I am in the middle of giving instructions

to the whole class. I am happy to teach them about social expectations and what is appropriate to

ask and what time, and what is not. I am thankful to have this type of relationship with my

student.

Most scholars in education will comment on the importance to cultivate a positive

classroom environment in order for students to be able to learn. While I pride myself in having

authentic, positive relationships with my students, there are other basic needs that have to be met

in order for learning to happen. Many of my students come to school each day with these

obstacles (poverty, abuse, trauma, etc) that make it more challenging for them to be physically
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able to receive an education and to be in a place where they can thrive in the classroom. I

understand this and I can relate to them. Over a year ago, my father unexpectedly passed away

from sudden mental illness. Besides experiencing heart-breaking grief, there was a lot of trauma

that my family and I went through considering the manner that he passed. I went to school four

weeks after my dad had passed, which was probably too soon. I know what it is like to sit in a

classroom and worry about being triggered or being unable to focus on the content. Trauma has

physical effects on the brain that can change the learning process of a person. Before my dad

passed, I considered myself to be a strong writer. But after going through trauma, I couldn’t

write. I would stare at the computer screen or the paper and I just couldn’t write. It has taken me

a long time to get back to a place where I can feel proud of my writing. So yes, while I may not

experience the same things that my students do, I can understand what it is like to walk around

feeling like you have to hide something about yourself whether it be trauma, abuse, or poverty.

Many of my students carry these things with them daily, which is why it can be a struggle to

even get my classroom to a point where learning is possible.

I’m not gonna lie, it can be challenging to just make it through the day sometimes.

Working at a school where a majority students come from low SES backgrounds and have

complicated living situations presents a whole new set of frustrations that can sometimes come

out in the students’ behavior. They yell or speak inappropriately to one another or just do not

care, but sometimes I can’t blame them. Often times what I see in the classroom is just the

tipping point of a much larger issue. I try to have grace and be understanding when I speak to my

students and handle these situations, but it can be hard sometimes, especially when days like that

are becoming the norm. It can wear a person a down. I’m not trying to say feel bad for students
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because they are the strongest people I have met. I have never met a more accepting group of

people than my student at Dawes. Truly. I think because they all have their own stuff that they

are working through that they are able to be there for another and not judge people for their

situations. One of my students asked me a question about my mom, and another student chimed

in before I got a chance to answer saying, “Hey! We can’t assume that she has a mom.” And the

other student replied, “You’re right, I’m sorry. Do you have a mom?” And while yes, I do that

the most amazing mother, it was really refreshing to hear my students have that intunion that I

have not experienced anywhere else, especially considering that I recently lost a parent.

After a tough day of having to give four out of class movements in one class period-- for

rolling on the floor, might I add--I had a really refreshing conversation with one of my students

who had heard about the incident with his friends in second period. He was telling me about

about these friends of his have started to not like me now because I keep sending them out of

class. I explained that there are reasons that I have to send people out of class, etc. He then said

to me, “You know, Ms. Best, have you ever just tried saying ‘Hi. How’s your day?’ to them? It

might make a big difference.” I immediately got defensive and thought to myself, “Yes, duh, I do

that all of the time.” But then I thought, “Do I actually do that as much as I ​think​ I am?” By

asking me this question, this student reminded me that sometimes I need to take a step back and

evaluate if my behaviors are lining up with my beliefs. On class periods, days, or even weeks

that test my patience and boundaries, I turn to this reminder and take a step back. I look at the

situation as a whole and remind myself why I fell in love with the profession in the first place. I

try to focus my attention to those students who ​are​ doing wonderful things and let those

experiences continue to ignite my passion. That is what keeps me going and what excites me to
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wake up every day and feel grateful to walk through doors and grateful to have those students

know me as Ms. Best--someone who is on their side and who is fighting for them.

Now, nearing the end of my student teaching experience, I reflect on the idea of what it

really means to be a teacher. This question has haunted me for the past few months, and I’m still

not sure if I fully have an answer. The embodiment of a teacher is unique to person who

identifies as so. My definition might not be the same as yours, and that’s okay. I have also come

to the conclusion that being a teacher means being the person that your students need in their

lives. That could mean challenging a student to push academic boundaries or that could mean

just being someone that loves them and cares about them. I also turn to the work of Paulo

Freire’s “Pedagogy of the Oppressed” to help me answer this question. He says, “Liberation is a

praxis: the action and reflection of men and women upon their world in order to transform it.”

This quote reminds me that it is my duty to help liberate my students in whatever way possible,

to connect them with the world around them, not to isolate them in the classroom. Growing up, I

had every opportunity given to me. I believed that I could do anything with my life, and I really

could. I always knew that I wanted to help other people and I found that teaching was the most

satisfying way to do so. It’s just not fair that because of the color of my skin or because of where

I’m from that I am able to have more opportunities than other people. I truly believe that

everyone​ deserves a good quality education because as Freire mentions, education is truly

freedom. They are one in the same. And when I say everyone, I really mean ​everyone-​ -even the

kids that get on your last nerve or the kids who talks back or rarely shows up to school. They all

deserve not just an education, but one of a higher quality.