Right about now, we’re seeing kids we had last year or meeting new students, either from a different colleague or different school.  Stepping in with review, we dip our feet into the waters and see who can remember the basics:  calendar, weather, a few of the sweet sixteen, and basic classroom commands.  

From the back row, a high-flier from last year who aced every assessment you gave raises his hand and says, “What does ‘tiene’ mean?”  Your heart skips a beat.  A bit later, when you ask who plays a sport, another student you had last year says, “We never learned that”. Now, the adrenaline is pumping and you’re like “Stop the bus!  I KNOW I taught you that!” and you scan the room looking for anyone to agree with you to prove to yourself you’re not crazy.

Here’s the thing though:  there is a moment inside when we all feel like imposters–like we love what we do, and most of the time we feel pretty good about our ability to teach the language we love so much. 

Occasionally though, moments like this happen and we start to doubt….am I just faking it till I make it?

If you’re like me and struggle with this too, then you’ll relate when I say that this line of thinking has stolen my joy, and kept me up at night too many times that I care to admit.  But truly, why should I gauge my success and failure based on the retention skills of a distracted 13 year old?  Surely there are other forces at play here.

To combat this self-doubt, I recite these facts to myself. 

• Summer slide is real.  

• I’m not perfect-no one is.

• I work hard and am a talented teacher.

• Acquisition is slow, unique and outside my true control.

The last one is really my anchor ⚓︎.  In my own language-learning journey, I know what it’s like to not be able to recall a word I know I once knew.  I think rather than focus on self-validation based on what they can or can’t remember, the goal is to just keep throwing the language out there, knowing eventually it will stick.  That is my job.  Not to be the glue, but to be the thrower.

I tell my kids—my job is to be like one of those sticky hand toys you can find in the treasure box at the dentist office. You through it out there and sometimes it sticks, sometimes it falls off. Eventually it’ll stick.

My take-away from these bumpy days of review is to just keep on telling stories, keep them reading in L2, and circle my way through recycling the language day after day.  This is the path to acquisition–I know it deep in my bones.  So take heart–we are in this together!

I’d love to hear your thoughts about this–can you relate?  How do you manage these moments of self-doubt?

Much love,

Catherine