Welcome to the Circus: A little background.

Hi, Boys and Girls!

School started a mere three weeks ago here in Dysfunctional City, USA.  The last three weeks have been some of the most intense, painful, emotional, and stressful weeks of my life. 

My name is Mr. Sideshow, and I'm a first-year teacher.  Everyone say "Hi Mr. Sideshow!"  [waits for response].  I need you to put that paper airplane down.  I need you to be quiet.  Thank you.

A little about me: 

I never really intended to be a teacher.  Not a teacher teacher, anyway.  You know the kind.  The I-get-up-before-the-crack-of-dawn-work-until-three-then-go-home kind (that's what you think!).  The kind you had in your formative years who either helped you be who you are (thanks!) or traumatized you into never, ever wanting to even look at a math book again unless it was to decide which part would catch fire more quickly (for you mathematical types, perhaps it was that world history textbook, or maybe the school copy of Romeo and Juliet that you "accidentally" left out in the rain).

And then, it kind of just happened.  Well, okay, not really.  These things don't "just happen".  We make choices, we decide.  We take agency in our own lives.  Here's how it happened: 

I was a Ph.D. student at the University of Resting on Old Laurels one short year ago.  And then I realized that the academic life is not the life I want.  I was supposed to be studying some arcane thing about literature of some kind, it matters little what.  Don't get me wrong.  I love to read.  And I love to write.  I just don't necessarily love to write about what I love to read.  It ruins the reading, you know.  Intense study destroys the magic inherent in literature.

Oh, and I decided that it was kind of...well...useless.  For me at least.  Some people love it and live very fulfilled lives, making friends and lovers of their books.  Me, I like people.  And for anyone who's been a graduate student in the humanities, you know that part of the job is teaching.  Most grad students find that bit the bane of their existence.  It takes away from the real work of research and intense intellectual activity. That was the only part that I liked.  That and being able to go shopping at 10 am on a Tuesday, if I felt like it.   So, while I was making a really good show of being a scholar, I was actually drinking coffee, socializing, and wondering what the hell I was doing frittering my life away locked in the Ivory Tower.  It was not fulfilling.  I was helping no one, having panic attacks when I actually had to do work, and becoming increasingly disgruntled.

I held on for much, much longer than I needed to, but eventually left.  However, I needed something to pay the bills, and wanted something that would be fulfilling.  I realized I had a fairly decent resume.  I also had teaching experience and can use active verbs when I want to.  Developed, implemented, that sort of thing.

A very dear friend alerted me to Dysfunctional City, USA's alternative teaching certification program. This is an urban school district, what those in The Know consider a "high needs" district.  Most of the students are very, very poor; the neighborhoods are violent and plagued by drugs and prostitution.  These kids have it bad. 

I said to myself, "Self, this could be really good.  A really good opportunity to make some sort of contribution to society while still being gainfully employed."  Self and I, we decided to apply for a position.  We chose Spanish because, well, we speak Spanish fluently, have a little training in foreign language teaching, and well, it seemed like the best choice.  And then we got an interview.  And then were offered a position.  And then we accepted it.

Six weeks of fairly intense summer training ensued.  That was fun.  I met a lot of people.  I learned a lot.  I even lost those last six pounds I wanted to lose.  I also got an actual job at an actual school (the program guaranteed a placement, but it was our duty to at least make a concerted effort to find our own jobs).  It was not high school, like I planned, but a teaching job at a middle school is a job nevertheless. 

I was bright-eyed, enthusiastic, and excited.

And then school started.  A week of teacher workdays involving meetings that were far longer than necessary and far less useful than desired.  I finally got my schedule two days before the kids came.  I finally got class lists. 

And then school really started.  Day one with the kids ended with a very tired, very shocked Mr. Sideshow coming home to sit on the shower floor with the hot water running over him and saying to himself, "Self, what have I done?".  But I went back on day two, and day three, and day four, and kept going back. 


Most days, I'm stressed, afraid I'm doing a bad job, tired, hungry, and irritatable.  My administration doesn't seem terribly effective or organized.  The children really are, as one old, crabby, jaded teacher put it the first time I met her, "horrible", at least in terms of behavior. The building is dirty and falling apart.  I have no books with which to teach my students. Photocopying is complicated.  I have few students who  want to learn anything at all, and even fewer who want to learn Spanish. 

I am still enthusiastic.  I'm excited, but somewhat less.  I haven't been getting enough sleep to be bright-eyed.  I never had any illusions that I could change the world doing this.  My goal, my aim, the light at the end of my tunnel, is the possibility that I might offer to those kids who want it a skill, a tool, however insignificant they might think it is now, however small that tool might be, to help them craft their own life stories, something that might get them out of the hell they in which they find themselves.

They say your first year teaching is likely to be the worst in your life.  I'm pretty sure I've already made all the mistakes we were told not to make in our training.  In the darker moments, I'm not sure I'll make it through. 

It could be a lot worse.  I've learned a lot, and have had some moments that brought me great joy (even if it was short-lived).   

You'll hear about the good and the bad.  There's already been some of each.