Entering the student teaching world from the perspective of an intern is similar to walking into a fine restaurant after having been an employee of that eatery’s kitchen—a preparatory area that you know to be slightly dirty, disorganized, and unrelenting. Stepping out onto the nicely groomed carpet, you notice tablecloths spread gently across dining tables, silverware gleaming in the gentle light of high-hanging chandeliers, and people politely bustling about.

George Orwell, with his work, Down and Out in Paris and London (1933), reports rather candidly of his restaurant experience by saying that, “It is amusing to look around the filthy little scullery and think that only a double door was between us and the dining-room. There sat the customers in all their splendour—spotless table-cloths, bowls of flowers, mirrors and gilt cornices and painted cherubim; and here, just a few feet away, we in our disgusting filth.” For all of its glory, one cannot understand the poverty of interning until he or she has witnessed the glamour of student teaching.

Of course to claim that teaching—much like the pristine restaurant dining experience—is without its hiccups, would be a sadly naïve perpetration of injustice. Even fine restaurateurs will cause problems every now and then; those problem-starters always seem to be the same people: one wants the meal to be cooked for exactly three minutes more, another exclaims that his salad lacks the proper proportion of black olives; even one more whines that the bill is too expensive. These are the students that slip through the grasp of our classroom management technique; they are in the dreaded 5% of students that require constant intervention and prodding. But like at a restaurant, it is these customers/students that make the venture worthwhile. Otherwise, the monotony might be shockingly…boring.

Obviously, given everyone’s own experience with school, it shouldn’t be a blow to hear that this immaculate student teaching world can explode into a million disorganized pieces. It seems to me that good teachers enjoy this disorganization like any good puzzle fanatic might. There’s an intense joy out of creating harmony from the chaos—leaving students in a better position than the one they occupied when they entered your class. Could anything be more intensely rewarding?

Let’s face it: as enjoyable as interning in a school can be, nothing tops the beauty of helping a student over the course of an extended period of time. Quinnipiac’s MAT program nicely allows for the graduate student to view this transition from temporary fixture to permanent stalwart. Anchored in position for the fifty days, these students become a part of your world. You are required to constantly find ways to make their educational situation academically richer and more fun than it has been in the past. The prospect of this possibility alone makes me shiver as I wonder how many people may someday be able to point to “Mr. Hagewood” as the source of their inspiration.

Perhaps I’m a lunatic, boldly plastering the bias of a teacher for all to see. But I’m ok with that. Teaching is the greatest profession in the world.

--Josh Hagewood

Josh graduated from Rutgers University in 2009 with undergraduate degrees in History and Geography. Subscribe to our feed for more posts from Josh.