Personal Narrative Analysis

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Being a zookeeper was never an occupational aspiration of mine, but somehow, according to my supervisor, that is the position I had taken. In the summer of 2009, fresh out of graduate school, I spent a summer teaching at a local drug and alcohol rehabilitation center. I had two sections of students with ages ranging from twelve to seventeen. These students had been either court ordered to seek help or their families had admitted them to this drug facility. Many of them had been kicked out of school already because of their substance abuse issues and their home lives were atrocious. Many of these parents were addicted to the same vices as their children, and in some instances had even introduced their children to them. Needless to say they …show more content…

I have no experience. What if there is a fight? I have never been in charge of a class before! My student teaching was in second grade for God’s sake! I am NOT prepared for this! were among some of the thoughts that were racing through my head as beads of sweat appeared on my forehead. After a few deep breaths and an endless amount of self talk, I had the courage to walk in. Before me lions were sprawled out on the floor baring their teeth, claiming their territory. To my right I saw arched-back alligators ready to slide out of their chairs and claim me as their prey. To the left there were bears snoozing on their desks daring anyone to wake them from their hibernation. This was my class? The lines of their bodies were like angry daggers pointing at me, their glances bouncing between me and the door like they wished they could physically push me out. It was like they were caged animals and I was the zookeeper who had sentenced them to this fate. This was off to a great …show more content…

Hutton and I am really excited about getting to know each of you this summer-” I started my speech that I had rehearsed countless times in the days leading up to today. I was interrupted by a slouched sloth of a boy in the back. “Why would you want to spend your summer in here with us? Don’t you know we are the bad kids?” My heart sank, I literally felt it beating from behind my kneecaps as these words hit me like a punch in the gut. “I want to be a teacher, and if I can tell you guys a secret; sometimes I get bored with the good kids.” I recovered as quickly as I could. I was shocked as the first day continued without a hitch, even though today I could not tell you what lesson I taught or what cooperative learning strategy I had attempted. I was pleasantly surprised with each consecutive day as they ended without an issue. I found that these students had been so used to being labeled the bad kids that when a teacher invested some time in them and their stories they were much more willing to

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