Today, oh-so-briefly, I felt like a real teacher. After a my first math lesson with my toughest class didn’t go so well, I went to lunch feeling a bit down and stressed. I honestly don’t know what happened between then and the start of my second 110 minute class, but I caught my second wind somehow, some way. For most of the period, I felt like I was in my own skin. I got fired up, I lectured well, I controlled the classroom, I cracked jokes, I helped students make individual breakthroughs, and I almost made it through a full lesson with a tough class. Unfortunately, it all fell apart in the last 5 minutes when some kid ripped a fart in the front row, and all hell broke loose. I didn’t even get mad. I just stared them down, as if to say, “Seriously? You’re going to let some gas stand between you and learning this math?”
The unspoken response was a resounding “yes”. Oh well, it was good while it lasted.