Well, it didn’t totally fail me. I did go through all my methods courses, learned how to create meaningful and engaging lessons, and even practiced in several classrooms before I was let loose on my own.
It failed me in other ways, and most of us too, I’d guess. It failed to teach me how to deal with:
- The first grader who was molested by mommy’s ‘friend’.
- The child who was dropped off at school by mom, who then walked to the nearest crack house.
- The boy who was being beaten at home.
- The girl who lived in a tent, in the woods, with her mother.
- The child who is raising themselves because the ‘adult’ in the home is unreliable.
- The girl whose mother was murdered, by her father.
- The boy who came to school hungry, every day, and most likely took classroom food home with him.
Or the 10-year-old girl who lost her mother 2 1/2 months ago. The girl who had to sit and listen to a great opportunity to come to classes and have bonding experiences ‘with your mom’. The girl who wanted to go and bravely asked, “What if you don’t have a mom?” The girl who was eyed, sympathetically, by all the other girls in the room. The girl who has to figure out a new normal at a young age.
These are the ways in which teacher training failed me.