In 2000, chef and television star Anthony Bourdain’s first book, Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly, was published and beloved by many, topping the New York Times’ nonfiction bestseller list. I read the book two years ago after having watched Bourdain on TV for years on shows like Parts Unknown and No Reservations. At the time, I had yet to start my journey in ACE, but was teaching as a long-term substitute at Saint John’s Prep School in Collegeville, Minnesota. A massive part of the book’s success came from the raw honesty with which Bourdain wrote about the restaurant industry, describing the not-so-glamorous parts of being a chef, like grueling hours and demanding owners, as well as some insider tips for restaurant goers, infamously warning to “never order fish on a Monday” as it is likely to be leftover from the previous week. In this short blog, I aim to do the same with my profession: teaching, as I fear there are a lot of misconceptions.
First of all I must begin by saying that I absolutely love teaching. It is the greatest job in the world. While it can be a grind physically, socially, financially, and sometimes spiritually, it is the singular profession that optimizes the variables of “fun” and “social utility” (see diagram below…apologies to the good folks in accounting and underwater basket weaving).
For example, today I began my work day by assuring and calming down a student in homeroom who was on a profanity-riddled tirade over a grading mistake made by another teacher. I also got to coach a Mathletes competition, arm wrestled a student (and won), hosted music trivia during study hall, and taught lessons on solving multi-step equations and played the ‘24’ game with my students in class, passing out candy if and only if they announced their solution as an emphatic “twenty-foooooooouuuuuuurrrrr” instead of simply stating the number. In my mind, there is no other job where you can have this much fun and make such a difference for others.
Now, for the misconceptions about the job. When many people think about teaching, they picture what we call direct instruction, the actual time spent in front of the class lecturing about a topic. The prospect of sharing knowledge through speaking passionately about a topic that interests oneself to an audience of eager, easily-moldable young minds is admittedly awesome. However, that is, according to my calculations, only about 10-15% of the job, especially as a newer teacher. The most important and time consuming elements of teaching, like cooking in a restaurant kitchen, are not glamorous.
Planning, in particular, is the most important task for any new teacher. (I would place relationship building and classroom management at 2 and 3, in case you’re wondering.) As a chef would never walk into dinner service without having done their prep work, or mise en place, a teacher should never walk into their classroom without a well thought out lesson plan. Believe me, I’ve done it. Students sense a teacher’s disorganization and the absence of routine can lead to, for lack of a better word, chaos. Each lesson in my class is structured the exact same way; there is daily bell work and prayer, guided notes, practice homework, a mastery quiz, and an extension assignment. Sounds boring? Maybe. But within that structured, well-planned routine, there is space to differentiate. For example, my bell work question on Halloween was “If you could choose any classmate to dress up on Halloween, who would it be and what is the costume?” I include memes in my guided notes to help students recall key terms and procedural knowledge. However, students always know how to complete bell work quietly, locate the daily agenda, and submit their homework. Remember, teaching = fun * utility.
This year, my more consistent planning has freed me to do some stronger direct instruction as well. For example, when teaching about the commutative property, I gave a mini-lecture where I laid on the students’ desks, counting the area of the rectangular-grid ceiling and then spun to rotate 90 degrees and did the same thing, proving that you can multiply two real number in any order and get the same answer. This got some laughs and even a few “ahhhh”s, which is 9th-grade-boy for “that makes sense.” I’d call this the culinary equivalent of being able to perfectly poach an egg on the line. It only happened because there was proper prior planning and routine.
So my tip to new teachers is this: there is no shortcut to success. You’re not going to receive a Michelin Star or perfect evaluation on day 1, year 1, or maybe ever. I am still far from considering myself a “good teacher,” but I am confident that I can be. Being prepared and establishing routines will put you on the path to becoming successful, for you and your students.