It was three o'clock in the afternoon.  I was about to begin teaching for the first time on my own.  I walked into the classroom and was quickly absorbed by the eyes of 25 college freshmen, full of high school mentality and eighteen year-old expectations.  I took my place in front of the ancient podium.  They stared at me.  I stared back.  They drearily waited for me to begin.  How polite of them, I thought.  I was overly prepared for the first day of class, as I should be every day, but I certainly did not want to run out of things to say on that premiere day.  I called the roll.  They responded accordingly.  The room began to get quite warm and uncomfortable.  I wore two shirts that day so that they wouldn't see the sweat that was slowly springing forth from my body.  They imagined me to be cool and collected, while, in fact, my nerves were jumping like jacks.  I felt confident only in the fact that I was more nervous then they were.

This piece of knowledge was all I was absolutely positive about.  I got through the roll as they continued to be quiet and unusually observant.  I let them get to know me a little bit: told them facts about myself, how I happened to arrive at East Carolina University and into their lives.  They replied with silent looks and uneasy glances.  They didn't think they were supposed to speak.  I began to coax them.  I tried to draw them out of their pre-suppositions.  "This is college," I informed them.  "You are expected to talk in this class.  The days of just sitting and listening to lectures are through."  I did not mention that many other professors they would encounter at ECU and other universities may not share my modern views of teaching.  I knew that if I could make them become a part of the learning experience, instead of just having the knowledge directed at them, then I would be somewhat successful in my teaching pursuits.

I passed out note cards, so that I might learn a little about this random gathering of complex individuals.  On the note cards they answered questions such as: "Where are you from?" "What is your favorite novel or author?" "What is your favorite food or drink?" "What is your favorite color?" "If you could be any type of animal, what animal would you choose, and why?" I picked these questions, so I could learn a little about my students' likes, dislikes, motivations, and attitudes.

I also wanted an example of their writing, which I could compare with their writing abilities at the end of the semester.  I had, and continue to have, grandiose visions of the form which I yearned to create in these little Frankensteins.  Not as monsters to be shaped in exactly my image, but as creatures who long to better themselves and to improve their desire of knowledge.  If I can make these students realize their own potential for life and to engender some appreciation of other peoples' thoughts and viewpoints, then I will consider my first teaching experience a success and a confirmation of my own pedagogical beliefs.

As the semester carries on, hesitation and confusion have disappeared and the students' minds are more open to the application of knowledge.  My greatest hope is that a few morsels of sand from the all-encompassing hourglass of wisdom will trickle into their young minds, and that instead of being astounded by shifting dunes on a windy beach, they will apply a few specially selected grains to mind, and more importantly, to heart.

Jason Myers
2nd Year Graduate Student
East Carolina University