Claire Doll
MSMU Class of 2024

(11/2024) In honor of Thanksgiving, and of my first two months of teaching, I wanted to reflect on all the positive experiences I have had so far as a middle school ELA teacher. On the good and the bad, the tears, and the laughter.

Since September, the majority of my waking hours have been spent in my classroom. It has transformed from drab, blank walls to posters filling up every corner. Pieces of myself hang from the ceiling, on my bulletin board: string lights from my dorm at the Mount, Taylor Swift decorations, Polaroids, and grammar posters I got last Christmas. It has grown into a second home to me. A space of comfort, where I can leave the lights off and watch the daylight paint the walls, watch the sun rise and peak over the school building. In my classroom there’s a spare wardrobe for my extra sweaters, and shelves filled with novels I used to read. Since September, my classroom has collected memories from all 138 students I teach. It echoes with laughter and learning, and for that I am forever thankful. Finally, one of my dreams, one of my hopes has been reached.

But the past two months have been far from perfect. I promised myself that I would be the kind of teacher who only stayed within her contract hours—the kind of teacher who enjoyed her life outside of school, who wasn’t perpetually exhausted, who could balance it all. And, for a bit, this worked. I planned exciting, extravagant things over the weekends to keep my life fulfilling: wine festivals and dinner with friends and sleepovers. But after a while, this caught up to me. I would feel tired—beyond tired—at the end of any weekend, and I’d resent my job. Why did I need to be there so early? Why was my commute so far? Why were my other friends working remotely, or making so much more money?

I would also feel another layer of emptiness, one that cut deep. I got to watch all my peers from the Mount begin another year of college. As I woke up at 4:45 a.m. every morning, worked out before the sun rose, and drove to work, my friends at the Mount would just be waking up. They’d wear sweatpants to class, and pick up morning coffee, and eat lunch and dinner every day with their friends. I found myself mourning that free-spirited, colorful time in my life. Four beautiful years where it seemed that nothing mattered, where I could actively pursue my dreams and envision life after college—but, ironically, four years that I wished would never stop so I’d never actually have to pursue those dreams.

For the first two months, it felt hard to find the motivation to teach. I quickly learned, however, that whether or not you have the motivation, you have to do your job. These children need to learn. I think back to how I felt in middle school; what did I look forward to the most? My mind returns to memories of class discussions and working with my friends. Of my teachers smiling, radiating positivity. Losing track of time while talking. Writing stories, coloring, and just being creative. This is what I looked forward to—and now I have the opportunity, every single day, to make my students’ days. To make them smile, to make them look forward to coming to school and learning.

I am grateful for a job that grants me so much freedom to bring light and color to learning. In today’s lesson, my students learned about the effect of setting on a story’s mood. Instead of reading a story and writing about it, I designed an exciting, creative lesson. My students absolutely love "Story Starter Activities," which entail a group of three students responding to three different creative prompts. They write the beginning to a story, and once the timer goes off, they switch and must continue someone else’s story. The game continues until each student has written a part of each story. Today, I gave my students spooky story prompts to celebrate Halloween and emphasize a dark and frightening mood. They absolutely loved working with their friends and being creative; in fact, my students begged to present their works, and they wrote full pages of stories!

Although it takes extensive planning and lots of grading, it’s so worth it to make the day of even 1 of 138 students. Each day is special and worthy and full of opportunity. For 50 minutes, I have the power to make or break the rest of a school day, and it is the best feeling to see my student smile on their way out of my classroom—my classroom adorned in college dorm string lights and Taylor Swift posters; the classroom I have dreamed about for so long.

So, yes, it has been tough. Yes, I spend my nights wishing I had more hours of sleep, and I look forward to every weekend, and I spend way too much money on Starbucks. I cry in front of other teachers because it becomes too much, the entrapment of the days, how it feels like I can never escape the constant cycle of wake, teach, sleep. I miss college, I miss the Mount, I miss my friends.

But I also wouldn’t change a thing. I am so lucky to have such amazing students and to teach in such an amazing school. I am thankful for the other teachers in my building, for their positivity, support, and wisdom. I am thankful for the friends I catch up with on the weekends, over a cup of coffee or on a long, fall drive. I am thankful for my new routine, for stability in my schedule, and I am thankful that I am able to miss such a great college.

There is a quote from an unknown author that says, "But the thing is, even if I could go back, I wouldn't belong there anymore." All I can do is look forward and bring light to the students who enter the classroom I’ve dreamed of for years.

Read other articles by Claire Doll