Reflection at the End of the 15th Year

  We bring you this brief break from yoga to interject the annual teaching reflection.

Reflection at the End of the 15th Year

What a year.

I know that this is in the news literally every year, but this year, teachers really are leaving the profession in droves.

Seriously. I talked to teachers in 2 different districts who told me, "There are 7 teachers in my building who have quit so far this year. Like, just walked out on the profession."

That's not normal, blog world.

Suffice to say, there's a teacher shortage. I think it's everywhere, but Missouri's last-place ranking for starting teacher salary ($25,000) does not help.

And yet, this spring, I applied for 20 positions, executed 11 interviews, and ultimately secured 0 jobs.

But instead of dwelling on that for this reflection, I would rather just mention the most salient parts of the academic year. Here are some of the things that happened:

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Something I'm proud of:

5th Hour Girls: You hung out with a former student all weekend? Like doing what, drinking?

Salty, Seasoned Teacher: How inappropriate. Of course not. We were finishing some of the work for her last college classes.

5th Hour Girls: Oh. So, what do we have to do to have that kinda' relationship with you?

SST: Stay in touch. 

5th Hour Girls: That's easy, we can do that. Bet. We'll be best friends.

Ok, yes, we're at a bar. But I taught her a decade ago.

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Something I'm sad about:

Spending two entire months painstakingly walking students through the atrocities of the Holocaust, guiding their research projects, answering their questions, teaching them about dehumanization and Martin Buber's "I/Thou” to a far, far greater extent than any other teachers in the district.

At the end of that time, the war in Ukraine broke out, and students started spontaneously discussing American isolationist policies. One student brought up the horrific loss of life.

Other Student: Well, yeah, but our lives are a lot more valuable than theirs. Obviously.

And that was maybe my saddest and most defeated moment as a teacher.

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Something I have so many feelings about:

We attend 3 days of professional development per year. We get to pick from a huge list of options. I do not mind it; I love learning things!

The man who heads up my district's Diversity & Inclusion division presents the same damn thing every time but gives keeps giving it different titles. Every freaking year, I fall for this and sign up for it again.

This year, in the middle of his presentation, one teacher was like, "I just don't understand why I have to give special allowances to some students. I think they're playing the system. I mean, my family is initially from Italy and they really struggled. I have not had an easy life. I don't think my students' lives are any harder than mine, okay? They are not slaves. Just because their great-grandparents may have been slaves doesn't mean that they deserve special privileges from me."

Honestly, I'm about done with our D&I trainer so I answered her myself. At the end of my explanation, everyone was staring at me and the lady was like, "Why doesn't anyone give us any professional development like that? I want some data like that, so I can understand it better!"

I emailed the D&I Director and FOR THE SECOND TIME offered to present during professional development days. He responded enthusiastically to the email that my principal was copied on. But after I put together a huge list of resources and emailed it to him for approval and feedback, FOR THE SECOND TIME he declined to respond at all.

I guess he would rather just keep modifying his current PowerPoint.

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Something I tried:

I asked my principal if he could buy us these yoga mats. I offered yoga after school for teachers (this was kind of a bust) and as a brain-break for students (this was a huge success). Going through yoga teacher training (YTT) has been extremely difficult because cramming 200 hours of anything into 6 months is hard! But I am glad I have something to offer the kids.

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Something I'm thankful for:

I teach in a place that lacks a strong building culture. Coming from my previous district, I was expecting my co-workers to be my new best friends. Instead, I've been here 6 years and I still have no idea who some people are.

I knew there was this big group of teachers who always ate lunch in one of the 8th-grade rooms, and I thought maybe I could get to know people by eating lunch with them. I walked in once, and they all just stopped eating and stared at me. It was so awkward that I made up a question to ask and then left.

Talking to the new Social Studies teacher, the Art teacher (part of the "in" crowd at school, and the SS teacher's neighbor in real life) said the following: "I mean if it were up to me, of course I would invite you to eat lunch with us. But you have to be specifically invited by [Popular Teacher who controls lunch guest list]."

Middle School, anyone?!

Anyway, it has been kind of lonely here. But since I became the Staff Wellness Chairperson, my committee has been really supportive and encouraging. We went out for margaritas on Cinco de Mayo, to drown my sorrows about being turned down for my 20th job. It was really nice.

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Something I'm about fed up with:

The Superintendent, whom I'll be referring to as Gerald McAssHat from now on, has been in charge of this district for FORTY YEARS. 

He literally rules it like it's his fiefdom. There is a middle school named after him, despite the fact that he is a sitting superintendent. He's the type of person who refuses to wear a mask in the middle of a pandemic, literally while telling teachers about the importance of setting a good example for students by wearing our masks correctly.

He clearly does not understand irony, one of his many failings.

His other failings include hiring his daughter with a 6-figure salary and being patently misogynistic and patriarchal.

The second Friday in April is recognized as "Day of Silence" across the nation, and its purpose from inception nearly 25 years ago has been to raise awareness of the bullying that happens toward LGBT+ youth. (Seriously, check the statistics, their suicide rate is astronomically higher than the norm).

A teacher I adore, one who would give you the shirt off her own back, is in charge of the Rainbow Club at our school (she sponsors this club for free, of course, as the district is too conservative to pay her). 

She relayed the following story to me last week: Superintendent McAssHat told the sponsor of one of the other Rainbow Clubs, "I pay you to teach, not to be silent. You want to be silent? Do it on your own time. You can be silent before school, after school, or during lunch. While you work for me, you teach."

Um, sir. Pardon me if I'm wrong, but teaching teenagers to refrain from hate crimes and hate speech is still teaching, you tumbling, tumbling dickweed.

(Never mind the fact that this is a well-established event that extends far beyond our district or state. And never mind the fact that he has no problem with silence to commemorate events he finds meaningful [read: patriotic, Christian events].)

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Something I stood up for:

When I started at the district 6 years ago, I had basically one mission: 1) Force a reckoning in the English department, which was as then teaching white-washed alternative history from Eurocentric texts and "student choice" novels.

Oh.

2) And don't get fired. 

I acknowledged the fact that both these goals might not be simultaneously possible. But now I'm six years in. I've weathered one fiery explosion in the middle of professional development, a few very carefully chosen "I obeyed the letter of the law, sirs" and some hard advocating. Importantly, I'm not claiming this is all down to me. But neither did I have no role.

At the end of the 2022 academic year, the district has many, MANY more books feating BIPOC, neurodiverse, and queer characters. Not just on my shelves either. In the actual library. No one's forcing any of the students to read these books, but I believe it is important for students who are marginalized and struggling to see themselves in the pages of books. When you are autistic, it matters that there are good novels written by autistic authors, like "A Kind of Spark". When you are one of a few Latinx kids in a mostly-white school, it matters that you can find a book like "Mexican Whiteboy."

Representation matters. On the Lit Circles committee, I'm still advocating for books featuring diverse characters. 

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Something I found mind-boggling:

One of the assistant principals in my building knows that Life and COVID dried up all my side hustles, so she suggested I clean our building after hours as a janitor.

At first I was livid.

But then I found out the IT guy in my building is making nearly $50 an hour doing this after the school day ends! He puts it all straight toward his daughter's college tuition.

He's like, "I don't know what you'd make. I'm 4 years from retirement, and maybe it's based on years of service? But my buddy's a bus driver here and he's been doing it after the school day to make ends meet, too. He's getting $22 an hour."

I figured I would make somewhere between $22 and $50 an hour. A reasonable assumption.

I was still mad as hell at having to teach the disrespectful Youths all day and then clean up their piss off the toilet seats at night, but I figured if the bus driver and the tech guy could swing it, so could I.

They asked me what size T-shirt I needed. They signed me up for training. And then they informed me they would be paying me $12.50 per hour.

Hold up, what?

"Yeah, that's all teachers get. Sorry for the misunderstanding."

Are you fkkking kidding me!?!?! So not only are you gonna pay me shit to do my actual job, you're going to also pay me shit to do the same damn job as these other guys!?!?!?

I quit!!

Just kidding, I can't quit coz I need health insurance, but I quit janitoring.

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Something I learned:

Lawnmowers can do three things: cut grass; bag grass; and mulch grass. I still don't entirely understand how all those things are different, but I know that when you buy a lawnmower, it has these capabilities.

My 6th-hour boys helped me pick out a lawnmower, and I ordered it online.

The first one they sent me arrived in half a box. It was the right brand but the wrong mower.

The second one they sent me arrived in a whole box, and it was the right brand and right mower. However, the handle was missing, rendering it useless.

The third one they sent me arrived in a box that looked like it had legit been put through a garbage compactor. It was held together by packing tape and prayer. It had clearly been used and then returned; however, it was the right brand, the right mower, and had all the parts, so I kept it.

The boys are 98% sure I mowed the lawn incorrectly because there was all kinds of grass all up inside the mower after I was finished. I explained to them that I'd found the lawnmower guide incomprehensible because it was all in pictures with no words. They were unmoved by this and thought even an idiot could figure out how to use a lawnmower.

Nonetheless, I mowed my weeds with the lawnmower the kids selected, and so I felt pretty pleased.

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Something I'm genuinely wondering: 

I genuinely wonder at the end of this year if kids were a lot more disrespectful and mean? At first I just thought maybe I'm getting old and crotchety. Then I thought, maybe I'm just so stressed out that I have a shorter fuse, so it seems like they're out-of-control but really they're not.

For the first half of the year, I just figured they were lacking in maturity and once second semester rolled around, they'd suddenly grow by leaps and bounds.

That has not proven to be the case though. I am really shocked by the lack of empathy, lack of respect, lack of basic caring for other human beings I've seen in the students this year.

I'm wondering: have any other teachers seen that? Is that because of the pandemic? Did I just get an unruly group this year? Or am I losing my spunk?

It's very troubling.

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Something I did not expect but could not have done without:

Comfort and care from the 8th-grade principal, after all my job application rejections. Can't put a price on some things.

The End.