It’s 7 a.m. on a typical Monday morning. Chelsea Johnson is awoken from her slumber, lifting her phone to stare at it for a few sweet moments before willing herself out of bed. She checks her email attentively and decides it is time to prepare for the journey ahead.
She reaches into the depths of her wardrobe, retrieving a graphic tee that will stop people in their tracks, squinting to read what it says. She searches through her endless stash of Vans for a pair to match. She pulls her long dark blonde hair back into a classic pony. She slowly shuffles to her daughter’s room to ensure she is ready for school.
She checks her email again to see if any new developments in the day ahead have arrived. No time for breakfast, Johnson is particular about the use of her precious time. She walks out the door, lugging bags of schoolwork she brought home.
Johnson arrives at Sentinel, the home of the Spartans, at 7:40 promptly. She skips along excited for what the day may hold. The first thought that comes to mind when Johnson strides through the grand entrance of the school is, these bags are heavy.
She treads up the stairs and down the hall to her room and is greeted by Mrs. Reinicke. “Good morning bag lady,” Reinicke calls, as Johnson enters her room. Ms. Burke peeks in to see if Johnson is up to any schemes yet. After all, Johnson is, as Burke proclaims, an evil elf.
She sets her bags down at her desk, exchanging them for her coffee pot. She greets Burke and struts across the hall to Shear’s classroom with a mission: fill the coffee pot up. She brews her concoction while setting up her high-tech station. The station consists of her handy-dandy computer and printer.
Once again, Johnson checks her email – but on her computer. This time there could be a good one. She goes through the lesson plans, and ques up whatever material needs to be printed for the day.
Resonating from the hall, she hears a guttural sort of laugh. The laugh could only be attributed to one man: Ron Beck himself. Johnson smiles at the sound of his infectious laugh as she answers her emails.
Mr. Fisher peaks his head in during the last few minutes before the first period. He says hello, and they chat about something cool, like the weather or class. At that time, a couple of students wander in to talk between their zero period and first. The greeting committee lets Johnson know that the school day is about to officially begin.
The bell rings and she finally has a moment of quiet. The first period is Johnson’s prep hour, so she finishes up some grading and preps her lessons. She plans out the next month ahead of rough lesson plans. If anyone values preparedness, it’s Johnson.
The first class Johnson teaches is Modern World History. She enjoys the freedom of teaching this class and helping students understand world events. Her students complete simulations of the French Revolution. They listen amused as she talks about how positively bonkers Europe can get when the proletariat gets mad.
During the fourth, fifth, and sixth periods, Johnson teaches Psych. She puts on a teen film to analyze. They watch the behavior of characters and compare them to those in real life. She enjoys finding explanations for why we do the weird things we do.
In between Psych periods, the lunch break arrives. At the sound of the bell, a merry band of children invades the classroom. Johnson chuckles at the fools as they banter. The lovely munchkins fill her whiteboard with illustrations of a mystical rat kingdom. She puts on her noise-canceling headphones for a quick moment of quiet, before she resumes her teaching.
The last period of the day is AP World History. AP is different than her other classes, but a welcome change. She watches the dynamic of the AP class, and how they interact with each other. The in-depth conversations they can have in the class make teaching AP a unique class.
At the end of the day, two students trickle into her classroom. She listens to the students debrief their days and vent. She likes to have the space available for kids to talk, and to have someone who cares to listen. She finally packs up her stuff and heads home at around five.
She asks her daughter about her day, to which she always gets the same unenthusiastic reply as most parents of a tween. She makes dinner, takes some time to decompress, then does more schoolwork. Who needs a work-life balance? There are plenty of snack breaks in there to keep her sane.
Johnson glances at her email one last time. She sees something new this time. More emails! That is reassuring.
At last, Johnson winds down and lies in bed thinking about her dynamic life. Tomorrow won’t be the same as today. That is the beauty of teaching. The joy of seeing a school, students, teachers, and herself grow each day makes her know she wants to return the next day.
