When I was hired to teach GED almost a decade ago, I was convinced that teaching would be one inspirational montage after another. I would have perfect attendance in my class. Students would hang on my every word of perfect wisdom. Every student would pass every section of the test the first time and then register for college. It was going to be glorious!
After processing a textbook worth of paperwork with Human Resources, I was directed to the campus bookstore where I had to purchase the book from which I was expected to teach, given a few boxes of outdated materials left by a previous instructor (and by outdated, I mean that the social studies material still had Reagan listed as President), and pointed to the copy machine with the admonishment that I was only to make twenty copies per week (there were over thirty students registered in the class).
But even in the face of overwhelming odds, my starry-eyed determination to change the world one GED student at a time wasn’t diminished. Oh, no! I had “new instructor” rose-tinted-ruby glasses firmly perched on my nose. (You can quit laughing, now. Yes, you in the back. Don’t think that I don’t see you.)
Fast forward about ten years and over a thousand students later. I think back to those first few years and roll my eyes at my naive hubris.
Teaching GED isn’t for the faint of heart. It takes a special kind of crazy to do what we do. Years of curriculum design, teaching pedagogy, and educational theory fly right out the window the minute you enter a GED classroom. This is instruction in its purest form. It’s down and dirty, mud in your face, wallowing through the trenches rough . . . and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Which brings me to the reason for starting this blog. I want to share my experiences (war stories) as an instructor, and possibly motivate and inspire other instructors along the way.
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