Observation #1

           I parallel park my car and try to calm myself.  What am I worried about?  If I can deal with young kids with impulse control and anger issues on a weekly basis, high school students in a classroom will be nothing.  I turn toward the front of the building—it’s a colossal structure with a seemingly endless flight of stairs which lead to a single door.  I move into the building and sign in.  I exchange my driver’s license for a visitor pass, and just like that, I begin my observation.  A nice woman escorts me into the “parent volunteer” room and I wait for Mr. Comet to meet me.  The walls of the volunteer room are covered in lovely motivational sayings and two women speak in hurried Spanish as they set notebooks out for a tutoring session. 

            After ten minutes of waiting, Mr. Comet enters the room and introduces himself.  His pleasant demeanor makes me feel instantly comfortable.  He explains that he will not have time to give me a tour of the school, but that’s alright with me—I figure that if you have seen one high school, you have seen them all.  As we leave the room and pass the office, the bell rings and the hallways are instantly swarmed with students jostling about and calling out greetings to their friends.  I noticed that just about everyone in the hallway is staring at me—I feel like an attraction at a freak show. I follow Mr. Comet up the stairs and he ushers me into a classroom where I am greeted by a woman with a kind smile and warm handshake. 

            There is nothing particularly special about the classroom.  It is small with more desks than feels comfortable.  It feels cozy though.  The walls contain the same motivational artistry as were featured in the volunteer room and the entire wall behind the teacher’s desk is set up like a showcase for student art.  The bright colors draw my attention and lend a feeling of comfort to the overall ambiance of the space.  The teacher offers me a seat in the back of the room next to her desk and we exchange pleasantries.  She is very personable and seems to have an old soul.  She introduces me to her student teacher as he approaches us.  I realize that he is an acquaintance of mine, Joey, from the previous semester at RIC.  I could not help but think about what a small world we live in.  His presents helped me feel even more comfortable than I was talking to the teacher. 

            Once the bell rings, students begin to sit down and take out their notebooks.  Very little instruction is needed from authority figures for students to get to work.  The teacher informs me that the students do exploratory writing at the beginning of each class to get them in a learning mindset.  As I look around, I count 20 students of various ethnic origins.  The room is almost equally balanced with 11 male students and 9 female students.  The teacher notices me looking around and informs me that this is one of her easiest classes.   The class who just left contained 7 students with behavioral issues while this one only contains 2.  I must have made a face which led her to believe that this information made me nervous.  I then told her that dealing with students with behavioral disorders does not faze me.  She released a sigh of what I can only assume was relief and continued telling me about her students. 

            After several minutes of writing practice, the students’ attention is called to the front of the room.  Joey asks them to split into groups and work on some writing prompts.  They have just completed Lord of the Flies, and Joey wants them to take a stance on a prompt and support it with textual examples.  I watched the students speak and ask questions.  They were animated and seemed to love the assignment.  Once, an argument even broke out between two boys who disagreed on when it was clear in the story that the characters’ society was doomed to failure.  This altercation would normally make me nervous, but they were so involved in the activity that I could not help but be impressed with the teachers and the assignment. Every student, save one who preferred to do the work on his own, participated in the work.  It is obvious to me that the power in the classroom lies with the teachers, but they encourage their students to actively participate. 

            If I were a student at this school, I believe walking through the doors would be intimidating.  As an adolescent, I always seemed to interact better with adults than with my peers.  Considering the fact that I still felt nervous walking into this building as an adult, I believe high school-aged me would have been even more anxious.  Even so, the English class I was able to observe made me feel right at home.  The teachers were knowledgeable and extraordinarily kind to me and to every one of their students.  If I were a student in that class, I think going into that room would feel like entering an oasis in the middle of the Sahara Desert.