Before the Big Day, part 2

The day before, Saturday, was supposed to be the day all the bits and pieces of plans I'd made over the summer came together. Seating charts, grouping arrangements, sequence of objectives, the classroom routines, forms and first day activities and everything down to the placement of the date on the chalkboard was to be set and ready to go on Saturday. Well, actually, I had wanted to be done on Friday, but a couple of snags made that impossible.

We'd spent the first part of the week in professional development sessions and department meetings. As a new teacher, all this new information fascinated me. Strangely, my coworkers didn't seem fascinated. They didn't even take notes! Their faces didn't betray any one reaction, but ranged from bored to hostile, and I made a mental note to figure out why.

At the end of Tuesday's last meeting, the principal announced that all classrooms would be locked until Friday at 2:30, at which time we'd have 45 minutes to set them up before the building would be locked. The reason: we'd be performing team-building exercises at a local camp for the disabled for the next two days. As he made his announcement, the faces of the faculty all soured at the same time.

No mental note needed on this one. Sure, rope swings and balance beams have their place in education, but at this point, I didn't even know if I had a computer in my classroom. Why did we need to build team when we should be building classroom libraries?

Two days later, we returned from the camp, ostensibly better acquainted and more trusting of one another. The trip was a qualified success: I got to watch a science teacher pretend to fall from a rope course forty feet above the ground. My coworkers--completely forgetting that he wore a harness--gasped and shouted and ran toward his landing spot just as he grabbed for the rope to stop his fall. He clambered back onto the ropes and laughed maniacally as the PE teachers threatened to dismember him if he ever came near the gym. Unity.

After de-busing, all the veteran teachers headed to their rooms to hang up their posters, arrange their paper clips and write the first day's objectives on the board. For some reason, though, the key to my classroom couldn't be found, and before we could locate it, forty-five minutes were up and the "official school time" was telling us to leave. I hadn't even seen the room yet, and I was a bit, let's say, frustrated. Not wanting to start things off on the wrong foot, the principal apologized and told me and a friend to come in Saturday at 8 a.m. to set up our classrooms.

After waking up to an already-blistering 85 degree sun, we cruised down the avenue to school and were greeted by an empty parking lot enclosed by a fence with a locked gate. Hmmm, I thought, this doesn't look very open. Surely there had been some kind of misunderstanding.

Rather than wait it out, we decided to make the first of what would be many trips to the Dunkin Donuts nearby. There are going to be setbacks, I reminded myself, things beyond your control. There's a reason why these schools have the greatest need. Nonetheless, I was pumped to head back and get things going. As I chomped on my donuts, the frustrations of this morning and the previous week yielded to the restorative powers of coconut flakes and vanilla frosting.

When we returned to school, the gate was open and we pulled in. Clutching our teacher bags and dragging our crates-on-wheels behind us, we trudged to the doors and tugged. Locked. We pounded for several minutes and finally a custodian let us in and unlocked our classroom doors for us. Things were finally looking up. Then I stepped into my classroom for the first time.