Photo by Dan Dimmock on Unsplash
I started my 24th year of teaching this fall. I have seen ups and downs of all sorts. I never imagined my toughest years would come after two decades of experience. Yet, here we are.
I was once committed and dedicated to my craft. I found joy and inspiration daily from both the children in my classes and my colleagues. I truly believed the secret to a better society was to be found in educating our youth. I wanted to be part of this movement. I wanted to make a difference in the world. I am not sure what I believe anymore, but I have to recognize my own limits.
Does anyone in our society truly understand what teachers do? We are not simply sources for information. My job as a middle school teacher is not just to explain the purpose of the U.S. Constitution or describe the differences between North and South Korea. My job is far more complex.
Each morning I walk into the school building with a smile on my face, and I keep that smile for 8 hours straight when I am in the presence of students. I cannot hide in my cubicle, or in my home office for that matter, and complete work on my computer. I am engaged with people 80% of the workday, and on some days, for 90%. What other professionals are this engaged every single day?
My work environment is not quiet. Schools are loud, chaotic, and hectic places. I need to have a tremendous amount of energy to be in a school building every single day. I talk constantly. Even when I am not presenting information, I am engaged in conversation with students. I speak to them casually in between classes. I reprimand them in the cafeteria, hallways, and outside during recess. I have actually developed a vocal chord disorder as a result of my profession.
When I have a free period, I am usually running to the bathroom. I cannot choose to relieve myself whenever I feel the urge. I must wait until I am not supervising a group of children. I am also making copies, creating lesson plans, grading assessments, or meeting with colleagues. My “free periods” are not “free”. These times are intentionally built into schedules to allow for improved teaching and collaboration. Yet this year, most teachers are covering other colleagues’ classes leaving them no in-school time to accomplish other expected tasks. Teachers always take work home; this year, teachers have hours of work to complete each day just to stay one step ahead.
On a daily basis, I am comforting someone in tears, managing conflict, and helping students celebrate success. Last week, I coached a student through a severe panic attack while I slowly walked her to the school nurse. She sobbed while struggling to breathe. I put my arm around her and talked her through each breath on the way to the infirmary. Twenty minutes later, I helped a colleague calm several students who had broken into tears during lunch. Earlier that week, I sat with a student while the school counselor explained that the girl’s parent had been severely injured in an accident that morning.
During the 2020 lockdown, I provided a sense of stability to classes of students who were clearly depressed. Through a screen, I saw their sadness and shock. I would find silly acts or jokes constantly just to get them to engage or lift their spirits. I had no time for my own processing of lockdown emotions as I was in charge of keeping the children as stable as I could. I provided a sense of stability, connection, and support.
If I am absent from school, I craft lesson plans for each of my classes. I was recently out of school for 2 weeks due to illness. Despite feeling terribly weak and sick, I was creating lesson plans dailly for my 4 classes. I researched, read, and wrote details for each minute of the 70 minute classes. I tried my best to create independent work for the students so as not to overload colleagues who were covering for me with additional instruction. Do other professionals provide minute to minute detailed work plans for colleagues when they are out sick?
I watch my colleagues struggle through the necessary pivots of the pandemic. I see their attempts to put on a smiling face after breaking down in tears from overwhelm in the faculty room. I see them attempt to bring laughter to children’s faces with the stupidest jokes and puns you could imagine. I see them counseling students through playground disagreements and misunderstandings. I am in awe of my colleagues’ strength and persistence. I am inspired every single day by their commitment to the students and their craft.
Yet, I see we are all exhausted.
Something has to change.