Today is one of those days when I come to the end of my day discouraged and questioning my career choices. Yesterday, my class and I engaged in a high-energy lesson where they were split into Spartans and Athenians, learned about their daily lives, and then competed against each other in a small Olympics Games. The kids learned a lot, had a blast, and so did I. However, today, this same class, as I told them to get ready to take some notes, made comments of "that's all we ever do in here". What? Do you not remember yesterday, or did somebody smack you with a pool noodle too hard? Then, when I set them to work on their short writing assignment about the Greek gods and goddesses, every question I fielded was a veiled whine about how to do the bare minimum.
I know every child is born with a passion for learning. I see it in my toddling son, as he rushes around to see, touch, and taste everything he can. I remember it from my own formative years; how I would read book after book, devouring the stories and the knowledge. I remember longing to improve my writing, so I could communicate my innermost thoughts and feelings. Then I look at so many of my students, and wonder when that fire went out and how to relight it, if I even can. There are a few whose flames are still burning, who are excited for every new fact and new connection they make, but they are few and far between. The coldness I'm met with as I try to share my own flame is slowly threatening to blow it out as well.
What about our school system, or even our society, is killing our children's love of learning?

I'm not ok

To my administrator,

Yesterday, you called me into your office, and your first question to me was “Are you ok?”. Thinking you were asking about my recent sick day and my nagging cough, I smiled and said yes, I was feeling much better, thank you. However, after you continued from there and accused me of laying down on the job, on the word of one of the worst classes to ever grace this school, and went on to make veiled threats about me compromising my hireability by “disappearing” in the afternoons, I would like to change my answer to your first question.

No, I am not ok. First of all, I am being let go from my first real teaching job, a job that, up until the past few months, I loved and had great passion for. When you told me about this, I kept a straight face and bottled up my emotion, but what you may not know is that I then went to my classroom, locked myself in, and wept like someone had died. I then went home that night and continued to cry for pretty much the rest of the evening. Coming back to work the next day took everything I had, but I did, and I have continued to come to work faithfully and continued to try my hardest.

I am not ok. I have two of the hardest classes I have ever had, and I have had them all year. They are disrespectful, rude, and think that the rules do not apply to them. Many of them have been in and out of your office, and not just on referrals from me. I have tried every approach I know with them, and at this point in the year, my focus is on survival and getting as many of them to pass as I can.  Also, apparently, one or more of them have decided that it is their job to report everything to you, making sure that they exaggerate or only tell half of the truth so that I get called on the carpet.

I am not ok. I have been “called on the carpet” more times in the last couple of months than I have in my entire career, usually for things that could have been mentioned in passing or in a quick email. It doesn’t matter how old you get, being called into the principal’s office never feels like a good thing. Its to the point that I am in constant anxiety of doing something tiny wrong and being chastised formally again.

I am not ok. You chastised me for “disappearing”, without ever letting me know when you were referring to so I could defend myself. Every time I have been out of the building, it has been for one of the following reasons: A. I took the morning/afternoon/day off using the official channels, B. I specifically requested permission from an administrator to leave a few minutes early to make it to an appointment, or C. I was getting food on my lunch break. If there was another time when I “couldn’t be found”, I was more than likely locked in my classroom pumping milk for my son, which, by the way, is specifically permitted by law.

I am not ok. I am still adjusting to being both a mother and a teacher, and sometimes that means I don’t get papers graded as quickly as I once did, can’t help out with extracurricular activities,  or that I’m absent because my son is sick and can’t go to daycare. My husband works two jobs, which leaves most of the parenting burden on me. By the time I go home, spend an hour or so playing with my child, feed him, change him, bathe him, and put him to bed, I barely have enough energy to drag myself to the shower and then to bed. Despite this, I have tried to give my best at work, which becomes harder and harder the less I feel appreciated here. It is very hard to convince myself that I’m doing the best thing when I leave my son in the care of someone else to take care of other people’s children who are ungrateful, disrespectful, and rude (both the children and the parents). I continue to put in my best effort for the few children in each class who are still eager, or at least willing, to learn, but it is very hard to put my heart into lessons that end up being nothing but power struggles.

For the past 3 years, I have dedicated myself to this job. I have done the extra trainings, the extra duties, the extra hours of work. What I have gotten in return is unemployment and a lack of understanding while I go through an extremely difficult season in my life. At this point, I’m questioning whether I even want to teach anymore at all, let alone back in a position similar to the one I am losing. So, to answer your question again, no, I am really not ok.