Sentimental Journeys

One word that rattles the brains of teachers is observation. Being observed is possibly one of the most daunting aspects of teaching. We are usually informed in advance:  sometimes one week, sometimes a day before but sometimes it can take place on the spot.

Observations perform a requisite of performance measurement for pedagogy. We know they are not an option and take it in our stride for when the time comes. However, being observed spontaneously hits the nerves on a different level. 

I remember standing in front of the class as I gave instructions to my students and in came my observer with my death warrant. My heart sank. I could feel it reaching my toes. I paused for a moment. Politely greeted them with a “good morning.” In the meantime the information I had stored for this segment dropped out of my mind like apples dropping from a tree. I glanced at the board to remind myself of what I was about to say. Racing thoughts engulfed my brain. “I am being watched. I am being monitored” replayed over and over again. I tried to be as calm as the ocean but I know that the atoms in my body are flipping around all over the place, only in secrecy. I know this has to be done and therefore I must do the best I can.

Thankfully I knew the topic well so I picked up the pace and began talking about Victorian England before reading Oliver Twist with my little cherubs. The modern version is easier to read, thankfully.

When I began to read, though, I became conscious of their presence. This pressed the brake pedal in my reading attempt. I stumbled over words and fumbled over phrases and felt utterly inadequate in doing my job. I tried to stay composed by briefly taking a breath but I could see the pen working away, making notes about me. What are they writing? I paused again and asked the class if they could take over. When I saw their hands rise in mercy, I thanked the one looking after me from above. I knew who the strong readers were so I wrote their names on the board, (lest I forget to reward them). I took some silent deep breaths to allow oxygen to penetrate my lungs and infuse energy in to my body. I smiled at the class to suffuse some positive energy as I looked around, trying to maintain my focus on the book in my hands.

After a long fifteen minutes, they departed and I froze. Luckily I had already displayed the questions they had to answer to check their comprehension after we finished reading the chapter. I quickly ran through the answers, gave them homework and eventually announced, “pack away.”

Once the lesson ended, the students scurried out to the corridor and I disappeared behind my desk.