From A Teachers Perspective

I straightened my posture when students began filling the room as I wrote the days lessons on the whiteboard. Today we will be going over the Renaissance Era, which actually is one of my favorite eras to talk about – but I’m sure many of my students won’t share the same feelings.

I turn around to lean against the board as a few more kids wander in. There’s still seven minutes left until class begins, but many of the students have already taken their seats.

Amber is in the back flirting with Josh. Well, trying to. Josh has too thick of a skull to realize it; He’s too distracted by football to notice a thing. But, that doesn’t stop Amber from trying. Actually, I’m not sure if Amber even realizes how inattentive he is. Maybe she’s got thicker of a skull than I think.

My eyes wander to the opposite side of the room. I see Olivia tucked away in the corner. She’s not necessarily an outcast, but something of the like. She has her nose buried in a novel of some sort; no one gives any effort in disturbing her. She seems to be read books with titles that sound similar to something from the Renaissance – maybe she’ll find some interest in this unit.

Then Charlotte enters my line of vision. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Johnson!” she greets as she sets her books one of the desks in the front row. I give a smile and nod in response. Charlotte is such an intelligent girl, achieving A’s in all of her classes. It’s encouraging to see her, someone genuinely interested in learning. While other students seem to stare into space to pass time as class goes on.

I walk over to my desk and begin cleaning up some papers that had gone astray during my lunch-break review. I try to be a teacher that’s well prepared for each class, and usually I am, but I really wanted to make sure my facts are straight for this unit – that and I enjoy it so much I don’t mind the preparation.

I glance once more at the clock and realize it’s time to begin. “Good afternoon, everyone.” I say after again straightening my posture. “I hope lunch was satisfactory today, and I hope you’re ready to learn about the Renaissance era – one of my favorite units.”

I pause as I write a small star by the unit title on the whiteboard. As I complete the final point Mark rushes in the door to his seat. I turn to face him, but before saying a word he blurts: “I’m sorry I’m late! My class before this was on the other end of the school! I rushed here, I swear I went as fast as I could!” he dramatically inhales to prove a point.

“Uh, the class before this was lunch…” Amber rebukes.

“I know . . . but I’m taking psychology, and that starts half way through lunch period. I have to quickly eat lunch, get there, and then rush back here.” Mark explains. Amber obnoxiously shakes her head, but I believe Mark. He’s an honest student, genuinely trying to receive good marks in his classes – even though he sometimes falls short.

“That’s alright, Mark. I remember the short time I had between classes when I was in high school.” I say in an effort to comfort him. “I’ll excuse it this time – but I suggest you talk to your psych teacher on how to somehow get to History in less of a rush. If it’s necessary he and I can work out something together.”

“Now,” I turn my attention to the entire class,” the Renaissance era . . .”

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