By Jason Shepard
Samantha Daniels darts into Hamilton Middle School at 6:45 on a rainy September morning carrying an armful of lesson plans, class handouts and trays of homemade cookies. It's the first day of her first year as a public schoolteacher, and she's poised for a perfect day.
But things don't go quite as planned. As she passes the principal's office, Daniels' wet heels slip on the floor and she plummets to the ground, cookies and all. "Right there, in the front door, right by the office, I just totally wipe out on the very first morning of school," says Daniels, a spunky 26-year-old who, minus makeup and business attire, might pass for one of her 14-year-old students. "I was mortified. It was my grand entrance."
Lesson Number One: No matter how much you plan, a teacher must learn to roll with the punches. Daniels picks herself up off the floor, gathers her spilled belongings, and heads to classroom 124. There she will meet her students as an eighth grade English teacher in the Madison Metropolitan School District.
Despite knowing
her first year would be filled with missteps, Daniels has bravely agreed to let
a reporter follow her throughout the year. In more than a dozen classroom visits,
phone conversations and e-mail exchanges, she will try to balance the inevitable
highs and lows new teachers face as they struggle to become effective.
Daniels
is among 230 new teachers this year in Madison schools. She's a graduate of School
of Education at the UW-Madison, which touts itself as one of the best teaching
schools in the nation. In April, U.S. News and World Report ranked the graduate
program's elementary and secondary education majors second in the country.
It was the School of Education that drew Daniels to Madison, after she graduated
from high school in 1997 in the suburbs of Kansas City. She traces her desire
to be a teacher to when she was just a toddler, playing with an overhead projector
at the local library, where she and her mother would spend afternoons after daily
walks.
"First, I think I just like bossing people around," she
laughs. By high school, Daniels fell in love with literature, spending a semester
in an honors English class researching her favorite writer, J.D. Salinger.
Daniels knew what she wanted: To make others feel the same enthusiasm for
literature as her teachers did for her. Now, as the 2004-05 school year begins,
she will finally get her chance.
Reality check
Arriving at her
first day of class as a Madison teacher took Daniels seven years, including earning
her degree, student-teaching, substitute teaching and other required practical
classroom work. She graduated from the UW-Madison in December 2002 with a certification
in English grades 6-12.
Among her assigned schools for student-teaching
was SAPAR, Madison's alternative school for teen mothers. "These kids had
tons of problems," she says. "I would literally come home, sit down
in the shower and cry."
Even with a UW degree, landing a job in Madison
isn't easy. For every hire made by the Madison district, five applicants are rejected.
June Glennon, the district's employment manager, says more than 1,200 people have
applied for teaching jobs next year. Given budget cuts and financial uncertainties,
some of which hinge on the outcome of next Tuesday's school spending referendum,
the district isn't sure how many teachers it needs next year.
After graduating,
Daniels applied for teaching jobs across the state, without success. Needing a
paycheck, she did what hundreds of wannabe teachers do: Become a substitute. Many
new teachers hired by the Madison district have spent months, even years, working
as substitute teachers. The district's hiring criteria gives extra weight to teachers
who earn good recommendations as subs. Daniels worked as a sub for the 2003-04
school year, with long-term gigs at Sherman, Shabazz and Hamilton.
And
so when Principal Bob Pellegrino offered Daniels a job at Hamilton, she jumped
at the chance, even though it came with big strings attached. It was a 70% job,
not full-time, with a class load of three back-to-back English classes and one
music/theater class every other morning. And it was a one-year, temporary contract
to replace a teacher on leave, with no guarantees of being rehired.
But
Hamilton is does provide an enviable environment. The middle school is one of
Madison's highest-performing schools, drawing students from some of the city's
wealthiest neighborhoods, like University Heights, Vilas, Shorewood and the area
around Hilldale. Of its 705 students, only 18% are classified as low-income, compared
with the district's middle-school average of 39%. The student population is 70%
white, 17% Asian, 6% Hispanic and 7% black.
Pellegrino, who's seen teachers
come and go during his 11 years as Hamilton's principal, says the first year can
be the most daunting: "For lot of them, the classroom is sort of a reality
check. Many of them are well-grounded and reasonably prepared academically, and
they come in enthusiastic about working with kids. And then reality hits. They've
got classrooms of 25 kids who are all individuals with different strengths and
challenges."
After seven years of studying, practicing and subbing,
Daniels thinks she's ready. She is one of Hamilton's three eighth-grade English
teachers, and has worked over the summer with her new colleagues to plan and prepare.
Her pay, after taxes, amounts to just $1,150 a month. But she's brimming with
energy and enthusiasm.
Total chaos
On a late September morning
as music/theater class gets underway, Daniels is wearing a bright pink t-shirt
with the word "VOTE!" and a purple scarf she flails around like boa.
She's got a pencil tucked in her ponytail, and she rarely stands in the same spot
for more than a few seconds.
Despite the early hour -- the class is held
before the official school day -- the 56 students are anything but sedate. "It's
total chaos," is how one student describes it. Daniels and her co-teacher,
Deb Struble, settle the students, some of whom are shouting "Shut up!"
in a vain attempt to quiet the classroom.
The students have been working
on short comedy sketches, and today is performance day. It soon becomes obvious
that not many have taken the assignment seriously. Later, Daniels reflects that
13-year-olds don't grasp the subtle ways of comedy, instead relying on sexual
innuendo and slapstick. Some of the groups get laughs by focusing on stereotypes
of overweight or homeless people. In one skit, a boy pretends he's dining at a
fancy restaurant but orders fried chicken and cornbread in southern accent.
As the class ends, Daniels is visibly upset -- because of both the offensive
comments and her lack of an effective response.
"It really troubles
me," she says as she leaves the room to prepare for her first daily English
class. "I feel like I'm a party to some kind of crime if I let these kids
perpetuate these stereotypes. I spent too long in school reading about these horrible
teachers who let these things go and the effects it has on some kids."
The music/theater class will challenge Daniels thorough the year. Part of
the difficulty is finding the right balance between her style and that of her
more-veteran co-teacher. Daniels is worried about overstepping her bounds as a
rookie. And she lacks experience in herding 56 boisterous students in a large
music and drama room.
In English class, Daniels is clearly more in her
element. Students start this day writing up their reactions to Shakespeare's Twelfth
Night, in preparation for a trip to American Players Theater in Spring Green.
One student, whose parents are UW-Madison English professors, volunteers to bring
in photographs of the Globe theater from his vacation there. It's one of many
signs of her students' broad experiences outside the classroom.
Daniels
brings a loving, bubbly personality to class. As she talks, one student turns
back to another to ask for a pencil; Daniels notices but doesn't draw attention
to the distraction. Kids are chatty and carefree, but when Daniels is ready to
talk, they usually quiet quickly.
During a group activity, Daniels effortlessly
maneuvers around the classroom. Kids never seem to know when she's hovering over
them to see their work. She handles problems in small ways, seemingly having eyes
in the back of her head to notice kids who are off-task. She pulls up a chair
next to one student who's been playing around. "What's up?" she says
to him, drawing his attention back to the work.
"I know my students
are a product of the environment I create in my room," she says. "I
can preempt behavior problems by establishing specific norms in the room, setting
up a positive environment, helping them be successful, making them feel welcomed
and cared about, and keeping them busy and engaged."
Testing the
limits
Clearly, Daniels' youth and excitement are assets in relating to
students. She jokes readily in class and often tells stories about being a kid
in Kansas.
"She remembers what it's like to go to school every day
and be bored," says Camilla, one of her students, over lunch. Another student,
Nat, says "her energy creates a really nice atmosphere." And Emma says
"she doesn't ever have bad moods."
Over the year, Daniels builds
bonds with her charges. In October, she takes students on the Canterbury Run for
Literacy after training with them for a few weeks. She teams with the librarian
to create a women's issues book group that meets during lunchtime. She oversees
a baking club on Mondays that raises money for childhood hunger.
"It
reinforces the connection that I have with kids," she says. "Sometimes,
engaging kids with the curriculum isn't the most meaningful thing to them. It
helps to see them in different lights."
By mid-October, Daniels is
on a roll. She loves her job and can't stop thinking about ways to engage her
students. She says her high expectations have resulted in a strong work ethic
among her students, most of whom earn high grades during their first quarter.
But a few of Daniels' quieter students are struggling. She learns that several
recently moved to Madison from Korea with their families, who are studying or
teaching at the university. They may be in the U.S. only temporarily. Daniels
wonders how to best focus her attention: In a writing assignment, does she emphasize
grammar and punctuation, or structure and organization?
Daniels seeks
advice from other teachers and tries to anticipate assignments that may give these
students trouble. She also becomes more aware of the subtle ways that these students
can fall behind.
"The other day, we were talking about the word 'nicety'
and a student defined it using Martha Stewart as an example," says Daniels.
"For a student who just moved here and is learning English and has no idea
who Martha Stewart is, she's not going to learn from that."
Another
student, born in Mexico, is also struggling with English. She's one of the hardest
working students in the class, notes Daniels, who effusively praises the girl
through an interpreter at parent-teacher conferences. Daniels wants her to get
into a new district program called Project Excel, which helps prepare high-achieving
minority students for advanced-placement courses.
"She's meticulous
and driven," Daniels says. "But sometimes she's not able to write a
three-page essay at the same pace as other students. It's not fair that I expect
her to do the same in the same amount of time when she's still learning the language."
More challenging still is dealing with students who continually test the limits
of appropriateness.
"I keep wondering if I'm only noticing the bad
things that the boys are doing," she says. "The thing is, the boys just
don't know when to stop. They don't know when it's appropriate to stop a joke."
She tries to establish clear boundaries and regularly calls and sends e-mail messages
to parents, usually with good news but sometimes with reports of misbehavior.
One day a boy who had recently gotten in trouble for calling another student
"faggot," yells out in class, "He just called me gay!" Daniels
stops her lesson and calls both boys into the hall. She requires the offender
to write a letter about his intolerance as part of broader "restorative justice"
techniques Daniels uses to address misbehaviors in the classroom.
So
tired
Much of the pressure on Daniels is self-imposed, owing to her desire
not to shortchange her students: "I just don't ever want any of my students
or any of my parents to ever feel like they're at a disadvantage because I'm a
first-year teacher."
As the weeks drag on, the workload begins to take
its toll.
"I am a sad sight," Daniels writes in an e-mail message
just before Thanksgiving vacation. "Both of my knees are swollen and they
hurt so bad that they keep me awake. My left index finger no longer bends. I have
paper cuts on the tips of the fingers on my left hand. I have an unpleasant case
of adult acne. I really don't think I'm sick. I think I am so fatigued that bits
and pieces of my physical person have actually begun to fall off."
Daniels
recuperates quickly after a much-needed break, but the exhaustion eventually creeps
back. She constantly writes reminders to herself about things to do, on post-it
notes that build up in her apartment, or, when she can't find paper, on the back
of her hand.
On most mornings, the coffee maker at Daniels' apartment
on East Gorham Street, midway between James Madison and Tenney parks, starts gurgling
at 5:25 a.m. The alarm blares at 5:35 a.m., except for the mornings she heads
to the gym, when she wakes up an hour earlier. Usually, she's at school by 6:45
a.m.
By February, Daniels is working to prepare her students for advanced
vocabulary tests while focusing on writing and reading projects. She loves her
students and has made friends with several colleagues. But she's growing distant
from old college chums and other friends.
"I almost never get the
chance to get together with friends and that makes me sad," she says. "I
could have closer relationships, or have fun more often, if only I had an extra
hour or so. It would be nice to go out and have cocktail. But if I have an hour
to spare, I just want to lie down and decompress, or read a book or take a shower."
The job is also threatening Daniels' relationship with her boyfriend, with
whom she shares an apartment. He complains that she's obsessed with work and has
an inflated sense of self-importance. She resents this interpretation: "Am
I self-absorbed during this first year?" she asks. "Yes. But I absolutely
believe that when a teacher is self-absorbed, it's because she's totally wrapped
up in her job of helping 100 kids. It's not like out promoting myself."
Daniels is steadfast in not sacrificing her dedication to teaching. "At
this point I'll put my job over him, or anybody I'm dating. Do I wish he could
appreciate the fact that this is a big year for me? Absolutely."
Show
time
Daniels' music/theater class has spent months preparing for its Music
Man performance, set for four performances the week of May 9. She started having
nightmares about it in February: "They're really not getting the idea that
they need to, sort of, get with it. They'll just run around all morning. It's
annoying that we have to chase them around."
To make matters even
more complicated, Daniels and co-teacher Struble have broken the class into two
casts, each of which will perform two shows. They spend weeks working late to
paint sets and shop for costumes. Daniels says she's lucky to have found a co-teacher
whose style meshes with hers. "I can't imagine this without Deb," she
says. It's one of the bright spots in the preparations.
On the morning
of the first show, anxiety is running high. A half-hour before show time, one
of the girls is running around crying for a missing hat. One boy pleads with Daniels
that he not have to wear lipstick. With 10 minutes to go, it's a challenge to
herd kids around the piano for a quick vocal warm-up.
Behind the curtain,
dozens of kids are trying to find their places as Principal Pellegrino can be
heard welcoming the audience of students, teachers and some parents. "Oh
my God, I can't believe this is finally happening," Daniels shrieks as the
curtain goes up.
From the audience's perspective, the show goes pretty
well. One student misses her cue and there's a brief awkward silence. The music
continues at one point when it should've stopped. And the lead says the same line
twice after another student flubs her entrance. But considering that it's an eighth-grade
performance of a musical with 10 different scenes, such flaws are entirely excusable.
Backstage, though, it's anything but smooth. Daniels and Struble sit directly
off stage left, feeding students cues and lines. At one point, Daniels yells into
her walkie-talkie, "What's going on? They need to be out there NOW!"
Struble sneaks to the back to sing a note to help one student who's off-key. The
boy in charge of the curtain seems to be thrilled when it's over. He brings his
hand to his forehead, looks to the ground, and shakes his head.
Afterward,
the students gather outside to congratulate themselves. All the flubs are quickly
forgotten. "You were so good!" one girl beams to the male lead. They
go on to perform a second show that night in front of parents and relatives, some
of whom have even flown in for the performance. Daniels fires off an e-mail in
the middle of the night: "They were so fabulous. Heart-swelling fabulous.
They were sharp, beautiful, focused. I felt so proud and all of our efforts since
last year were on display tonight."
A job next year?
With
the play a wrap and two weeks left in the school year, Daniels is not looking
forward to saying goodbye to her students. The feeling is mutual.
"She's
just a natural," says Nat. "She's very original." And Chet expresses
his gratitude for how well Daniels has prepared him for high school.
Daniels
herself is surprised by how much she's enjoyed her time with middle-school kids.
"I've kind of realized this year that eighth grade is very much a part of
my soul," she says. "In a way, I have the attitude and mindset of an
eighth grader. I get them, and they get me. And I think it does deepen the learning
that goes on in both directions."
Because of her one-year contract,
Daniels remains without a job next year. "It's not anybody's fault,"
she says. "I knew from day one this was going to be a temporary job. I knew
there was an expiration date on it."
Still, the budget uncertainty
puts Daniels in a precarious position: She's yet to renew her lease for her apartment,
and has sent resumes to other districts as a back-up plan. "Teachers tell
me it's too early in the hiring process to panic, but it's hard."
Tuesday's
school referendum could factor into whether Daniels has a job next year. The district
is planning to cut 131 positions to remain under state-imposed revenue caps, unless
voters approve a $7.4 million increase in the district's operating budget. The
board has scheduled a layoff vote for Wednesday.
Among those cuts are
20 middle-school and high-school teaching positions. Glennon, the employment manager,
says if the referendum passes, the district will restore most of those positions.
There have been enough resignations and retirements to ensure that the district
will need to hire at least "a few" new teachers, but exact numbers won't
be known for a few more weeks.
Daniels' hope is for a career in Madison
schools. And if one can plot a lifetime from one year, Daniels foresees a bright
future.
"I've found where I fit in both personally and professionally
and what brings me satisfaction at the end of the day," she says. "I
know that I could do this for 50 years and die pretty happy."