The First Day

On the morning of January 30th, I got dressed in a black shirt, a tie, and formal black pants. Even though the teachers dress really casually up here, I chose to make a good first impression. I left the hotel and trudged up to the high school in heavy winter boots, skiing parka, and face mask. The temperature outside was around -30. Once inside, I made my way to the music room and dropped off my knapsack and briefcase. Even though I had spent the weekend preparing, I was still nervous. Before the first school day of the semester began at 8:05 am, I walked down to the main office to see the vice principal about whether I would be teaching an English or Social Studies class. Terry, the principal, was there, speaking to teachers and greeting students. He asked me if I was ready? "Of course!" I replied. "That's exactly what I want to hear, buddy!" he said.

The vice principal assigned me a Grade 11 English class for period 2. I was then introduced to Verna, another English teacher who gave me an activity to keep the students busy. Upon inspecting my attendance list, she pointed out a name and warned me about the student because he was loud and likes to impose his way in the classroom. "If you want to have a good class, address him immediately." When the bell rang, I navigated around the horde of senior students who were waiting for their new schedules. I looked straight ahead and walked to my class as if I had done it many times before. If students smell fear in you, they'll exploit it to the max.

There was a group of Grade 9 students waiting outside my door. My first guitar class. "Are you the new music teacher?" asked one of them. "Yes," I replied as I unlocked the door. The loud students streamed into the room and took their seats . . . eventually. Okay, just like you planned it, I thought. Taking a deep breath, I welcomed them to my class and told them a little about myself. Next, I spoke about how to carefully handle the guitars. And then I asked them to write their names on pieces of paper so that I could learn them later. After collecting the papers, the guitars and guitar books were handed out.

The class consisted of going over the basics, such as, notes on the first string and how to play together as a class. Getting them to pay attention was a bit of a challenge, most likely because they were testing me. After what felt like hours, the 45 minute class was over and the students left as fast as they had entered. The empty seats were then immediately replaced by another Grade 9 class, just as energetic. Taking another deep breath, I started the same lesson.

Forty-five minutes later, I was in a different classroom for Grade 11 English. Several students would need a lot of guidance and support because they were at a lower academic level. A few were even repeating the course. After introductions were made, we began looking at a short story titled, 'Desperate Measures,' that dealt with life in East Berlin during the Cold War. About 20 minutes into the lesson, the student I had been warned about, loudly walked into the classroom listening to music on his iPod. He dropped into a seat at the back and let his bag fall to the floor, landing with a loud 'thud'. In cadets, I would have ordered him to leave and come back inside in a quieter manner but looking at his demeanor, I didn't think that would work. Plus, I had been told that if you yell at an Inuit student, they'll just walk out on you. I decided on a softer approach and reintroduced myself, gave him the short story handout, and told him where we were. I was aware that by not addressing his rude entrance, there was a strong chance he would repeat it in the future, but I hoped that wouldn't be the case if I could win him over. For the rest of the class he mostly listened and did some of the work. One step at a time, I reminded myself.

I spent lunchtime in the teacher's lounge, speaking with the other teaching staff, and taking a break from the students. I'm halfway there, I'm halfway there, I said to myself. Terry had briefly visited one of my classes in the morning to see if I was doing alright. "Terry does that in the mornings & afternoons," one teacher explained. "He's a dedicated principal who walks around and checks on his teachers & students. He knows everything that's happening."

My Grade 11 & 12 music class was the best; there were only 11 students and all of them had experience playing music. They were there to learn and to play. All I had to do was hand out the band textbooks and we just sight read a few pieces. Their sound was good and they had discipline. It was awesome.

I wish I could say the same for my last period class which was Grade 10 music. Most of them were like my Grade 9s - little to no experience playing music. And most of them had an attitude. I immediately realized that this would be my toughest class, despite having two senior students to assist me. They were at that age where they thought they could say anything and get away with it. For this day, they were more concerned with gossiping rather than playing a note from their instruments. Losing my cool on them would not work so I just took the brunt of their behaviour until the end. I guess it was their way of seeing if I could take it or not. I was glad that I was able to get them to play several sounds. And I do mean sounds. Playing notes was not possible at this point. When the last bell finally rang at 3pm, they ran out of the room, not caring how they left it. Alone once again, I breathed a sigh of relief. I had made it.

And then I remembered it was just the first day. If the classroom could speak to me, it would have said, "Welcome to full time teaching!" To relax, I sat at the piano and played a few pieces. Reenergized, I reorganized the music room and stayed until 6pm planning lessons. While walking back to the hotel in the frigid cold, my mind replayed what the full time teachers had said to me all day, "It only gets better from here."