On my first day of college, one of the sophomores gave me a piece of advice: "Always remember, when you're teaching you're not Envy. You're Ms. Fisher and that's totally different."
At first I was skeptical about that, but after a year of studying German to become a high school teacher, I understand that there's a big difference between Envy and Ms. Fisher. When I'm at school as a teacher, I can't be sarcastic or impatient. Believe me, that's one of the most difficult parts of being a teacher. Because the questions these kids asked on my first day as Ms. Fisher at the local high school, were sometimes simply unbelievable.

I am sorry but it's true. (source)

"Ms. Brave, why is that lady in our classroom?"
What I wanted to say: "'That lady' can hear you just fine and 'that lady' can answer that question too. I'm just doing an internship, no need to go crazy."

At the end of the day an 8th grade class came in. For some reason my presence caused them to freak out. Okay, maybe it's a little scary when a random girl is suddenly standing in the back of your classroom for no apparent reason, but is it really necessary to talk about her as if she isn't there? Well, 8th grade logic teaches us that it's totally necessary. Instead of just asking me what I was doing there, the class swarmed around my internship coach, bombarding her with that one question over and over again: 'Who is that?!'

What I did say: "Hi, I'm Ms. Fisher. I'm doing an internship here."


"Ms. Fisher, do you speak German?"
What I wanted to say: "No. No, I don't speak German. That's why I am here: to teach you German even though I myself can't even ask what time it is in this language."

As soon as the class was more or less calm, they started asking a whole lot of questions about me. One of them was, and I'm not kidding, the very important question: do you speak German? I wonder why these kids even asked that question. Why would I want to teach a language that I don't speak? There is absolutely no logic to find in this train of thought. At first I hoped they'd let it go if I answered another question first, but no. 'Do you, Ms. Fisher? Can you say something?' And thus I was forced to answer the most pointless question of all. Of course I answered in German, just to prove the point of the pointlessness of their question.

What I did say: "Wie bitte? Entschuldigung, aber das verstehe ich nicht"
(Translation: 'Excuse me, what? Sorry, but I don't understand that')


"Ms. Fisher, did you know that Ms. Higgins' first name is Tanya?"
What I wanted to say: "Hmm, I just came out of the teachers' lounge with Ms. Higgins. I've been talking to her for half an hour. I had no idea she even had a first name."

I remember those lessons when everyone was swapping teachers' first names like they were Pokémon cards. Usually it was in art class. I'd sit there and tell my friend how I discovered our biology teacher's name and her eyes would go wide. When you're in that class, you don't think of teachers as persons with a first name and a life (a life? Yes, teachers have a life, believe it or not).
At some point during the class, when grammar wasn't interesting to them anymore, some of the kids tried getting my attention again by saying random stuff. And let's be honest, what's more interesting to tell the new intern than the art teacher's first name? It doesn't matter that she probably already knows this, this valuable piece of information has to be shared with the world!

What I did say: "Yes, I knew that."


"Ms. Fisher... are you serious?"
What I wanted to say: "Sorry, that was the sarcasm speaking. I guess I am going to need a sarcasm sign for you."

At some point, I couldn't help it anymore. There was so much sarcasm waiting to be used, I just had to use some of it when the 8th graders asked me why I'd chosen German. The answer is actually a very complicated story about job perspectives, college curriculum, personal challenges and my perfect Californian accent, but I didn't want to bore my soon-to-be students with all that. So before I knew it, I'd sarcastically blurted out: 'I chose German because there weren't any places left for the English course.' The sarcasm was not detected by any of the 8th graders. I am so going to need a sarcasm sign for these kids.

What I did say: "No, I was kidding. I chose German because I love the language and because German food is awesome."


After 50 minutes, the bell rang. The kids walked out of the classroom and I? I burst out laughing. Right now I'm making fun of it, but this post right here is actually why I love being a teacher. Kids ask the funniest and most obvious things in class, without realizing it. And while part of me, which is sadly the part that controls my mouth, responds with sarcasm, a far bigger part of me writes all these things down and looks back on them with a smile. Being a teacher isn't easy, but it sure is great.

Stay Awesome!

On my first day of internship my new coach gave me a tour of the school where I'd soon be teaching German. It was more of an exploration: the school had just moved into a new building. The old one, where I'd graduated only a year ago, would be demolished soon. It was my old school in a new jacket: the building was different, the teachers were the same. Most of them recognized me and came up to me for a chat. In a way, it felt like coming home. I felt confident, happy and strong - until I rounded a corner and saw her. My chemistry teacher from 9th grade. She smiled and waved, but I saw a hint of worry and fear in her eyes. Suddenly I wasn't the nineteen-year-old intern anymore; I was fourteen years old, wearing an oversized lab coat and about to screw up big time.

Way back in the distant past of 2011
'So what are we going to do first?' I asked while trying to free my hands from the white lab coat sleeves that were way too long. The white lab coats were supposed to be the smallest, but I was still drowning in fabric every time I wore one.
Lars and Tim, my lab partners who were both well over 6ft tall, looked down at me, but said nothing. Summer vacation was about to start, yet this was our first chemistry experiment as lab partners. My previous lab partners always made me do the entire experiment all by myself and when the time came to write a report, they made a list of the supplies we'd used and added that, along with their names, to my report. I was so happy that my teacher had allowed me to become lab partners with my friends Lars and Tim at this time of the year. The two guys were a bit more skeptical about the skills I could bring to their team.
'Can you set this stuff up?' Lars asked. Lars was the one who did almost all the talking. Tim barely spoke when I was around, he had a bit of a problem talking to people.
'Sure,' I said. 'Can I do the entire experiment? That way you can observe and explain me all the sciency stuff I don't understand.'
Lars raised his eyebrows. 'You sure you can do the entire experiment?'
'Of course. When Stacey and Elaine were my lab partners I always had to do the entire experiment by myself.'
Lars and Tim still weren't convinced of my skills in the science lab, but as I turned the burner on without batting an eye, they finally started to have a bit of confidence in me.
'There isn't much that can go wrong with this experiment,' Lars told me. 'We put sugar in a test tube, hold it close to the flame and wait till it caramelizes. Then we describe the process and that's it.'
'Great.' I put the sugar in a test tube. 'But how am I supposed to hold it to the flame without burning my fingers off?'
Tim pushed and extremely long clothes peg across the table. 'Hold it with this.'
'Okay.' So that's what I did. For five minutes I held the little glass tube full of sugar close to the flame and stared at it. I had a thing with fire. I could stare at it for hours and was so excited every time we got to work with it in chemistry class. I was still hoping we'd get the chance to blow something up, but things never reached that level of awesomeness.
'Nothing's happening.'
I tore my gaze away from the small flame and the still very white sugar. Lars was right. Nothing was happening. 'What am I supposed to do?' I asked.
'Hold it closer to the flame. Or in it,' Lars suggested.
'Like this?' I held the tube a little closer to the flame, the bottom of the tube just above the top of the fire.
'No, closer. I think we have to hold the whole tube into the flame, then move it.'
'Sure.' The tube was now almost all the way into the flame. The sugar turned brown and bubbled. 'It's working!'
'Envy.'
'Look, Lars, it's caramel and - crap!' In my excitement I hadn't noticed that the wooden clothes peg had caught fire. The caramelizing sugar was about to bubble out of the tube. I held the tube and burning peg away form the fire. 'What now? What do I do?!' Panic took over. I started waving the clothes peg, but that only made things worse.
'Damn it, Envy!,' Lars bellowed. 'Stop waving the damn thing!'
'But what am I supposed to do with it?' I yelled, still waving the burning peg. The way too long sleeves of my lab coat grazed the fire and almost joined the bonfire that used to be a clothes peg.
'Put it down!'
So I did, without realizing that this idea was even worse than waving the miniature torch. I put the peg on the table, where it almost set fire to the wooden board that was there to protect the table's surface from sticky sugar spills. Tim's notes almost fell victim too, but I picked the peg up just in time.
'What do I do now? WHAT DO I DO?!' I kept repeating those words until Lars snatched the burning clothes peg from my fingers. He walked to the nearest basin, threw it in there and turned the faucet on. 'That's what we do with it!' he said. He turned around and gave me the angriest look I'd ever seen on his face. 'God, Envy. Why did you put it in the fire? Damn it! You're not playing with fire ever again!'

Almost five years later I could still hear Lars yell, I could still feel the heat of the burning clothes peg in my hand. Apparently I wasn't the only one who remembered that day.
My head turned bright red as I approached my old chemistry teacher. 'Hi, ms. Tulumen,' I said in a weird, high pitched voice that made me sound like a nervous squirrel.
'Hi Envy!,' she said.
I told myself to be confident. After all, that one incident was years ago. No need to feel ashamed, right? I could start a normal conversation, like a normal nineteen-year-old would do. I gathered all my courage, took a deep breath - and squeaked: 'Bye!'
Then I quickly walked away, nineteen on the outside, fourteen and ashamed on the inside...

Stay Awesome!