in class, but they do not talk too much, so they stay out of trouble. Every now and then they
raise their hand—just enough to keep the teacher off of their case.
I usually can pick out when one of my students is going through the motions. I go over
and talk to him or her and say, “You need to do more. A 75 is a good grade, but it is unac-
ceptable because you know you can do more.” I try to encourage them to pump out a 110%
effort.
The Black kids in my classes like to see a Black teacher, especially someone like me who
is young. They cling to me. A lot of the Black kids hang out in my room when they have lunch
or a free period. I make sure that my room is open to everybody and other kids come too,
though not as regularly.
I like teaching, but I just wish I knew the content the way the experienced teachers do.
Things just roll off the top of their heads. Nothing rolls off the top of my head. I have to sit
and organize myself and put it together. And then I have to teach it. Sometimes I feel like
there is so much that I do not know. Even when I know something, I cannot always figure out,
why it is important to teach about it. I worry: If I do not understand, how will my students? It
gets so weird that sometimes I feel I should not be teaching. There are battles going on in-
side me, and I go back and forth. But then one of my students comes up to me and I figure
out what is bothering him or her when nobody else can, and I know these kids need me to be
their teacher.
For me, the key to successful teaching is making a personal connection with every stu-
dent. If my classes are too large, I cannot make it around the room to help everybody during
the period. Instead of talking to my students, I become intimidated by the size and I just lose
control. I end up trying to keep them quiet by giving them a lot of work, but they do not re-
ally understand it or learn it. They need a more intimate setting so we can make connec-
tions. That is the kind of teacher I needed as a teenager and the kind of teacher I want to be
with my students.
***I Was Once in Their Shoesby Susan Soitiriades
Susan Soitiriades is a Greek American whose family speaks Greek at home. She grew up and at-
tended public school in an ethnically diverse section of New York City. As a teacher, Susan contin-
ually thinks about her own experiences as an adolescent and a student. She earned her teacher
certification as an undergraduate.—Alan Singer
Since kindergarten, there was one factor in my neighborhood that could never be over-
looked: We were all very different from one another. We did not look the same, we did not
speak the same, and we did not dress alike. Growing up in the city is a difficult task for ado-
lescents who are trying to figure out who they are and where they belong. Ethnic gangs were
formed and in order to be accepted you had to belong to one. In high school, I dated a
Puerto Rican boy and chose to be part of his Hispanic circle. I hid my Greek heritage and
took on a new identity. Reflecting on my personal experience later convinced me that I
wanted to become a teacher and help kids such as myself.
As a high school student, I was an activist torn between two worlds. I was a favorite of
teachers and met with the school’s principal, but I also had friends who dealt drugs, carried
weapons to school, or had babies. I know how easy it is for teachers to ignore the world of
RESPONSIBILITIES 43