Those Who Can, Teach
I am a teacher. We have had generations of teachers in our family, from my great grandfather, who was in the village teacher in Mexico, to my grandmother’s cousin, who worked alongside with Jane Addams, teaching and serving the Mexican immigrants. I’m not sure why I wanted to be a teacher. Perhaps it was because the people who touched me most outside my family were public school teachers like Ms. Logan, 5th grade, Ms. Radar 6th grade, Mr. Kulieke, freshmen year science, Ms. Soelter, sophomore year English, and Ms. Maslow, junior year math. They worked hard to help me overcome my learning difficulties and appreciate learning. I’m sure you can remember some of your teachers.
I guess I wanted to make a difference in the lives of others. I became a teacher after many long years. I remember one professor, who told us, what we teach you is useless. What you need to know, you learn on the job. Teaching is tough. It takes a special kind of person to stay in this profession. If you are here to enjoy summer vacations, change your major now. You won’t make it.
Roughly one third of new teachers leave in three years. There are many reasons. I left after one year. I hated it. There was no respect for me from administrators. I was dragged through the dirt for numerous unfounded reasons and belittle by a rumor mill that ran non-stop. The hunt persisted to find a reason to get rid of me. I had no support from other staff, who were too afraid to stand by my side. In addition, the hours were long, filled with lesson planning, grading, tutoring, and many more responsibilities than I ever imagined.
Then came that one event that made me wonder why? Why did I come here? I remembered my professor’s words. Most of what we teach you is useless. I had to deal with the triple suicide of three young women, who made a pact to take their lives. I was devastated. I felt and still do feel as if somehow I share the blame. How did I not see the signs? What could I have done to change this outcome? I can’t understand. I left teaching for many years.
I am back, a bit wiser, more experienced and still learning how to deal with the stress associated with teaching. I have children who come to school hungry and raid my lunch bag. I have children who come to school without money and need cash to get back home or grab a snack. I have many who do not have basic supplies and get them from me. I have students who are in need of some love and come to just get a hug to get through the day. I have children who are sick, depressed, suicidal, homeless, parentless, abused, addicted, and just simply lost in life. Yes, I have attended several wakes of young lives taken too early. I’ve seen so much. Factors outside the classroom affect learning that are beyond my control for which I am still held responsible.
And here I am, wondering….do I really want to stay in this career? No one seems to like us. No one understands our jobs. It seems like everyone attacks us. It commands little respect, little dignity. Our concerns, our suggestions, our ideas are often ignored. We are treated as if we do not matter in the equation when those who have never spent a day in the classroom address the education of our children. What does the board offer us? A contract that does not respect teachers as career professionals nor considers how the conditions affect the student learning environment.
I wonder, how many could do this job, really do it well? Yes, I recognize that there are bad teachers, just like there are bad cops, bad doctors, bad plumbers, even bad priests, but we should not vilify the whole for the actions of a few.
So, rather than chastise and criticize us, I ask that you understand the challenges we face. We are fighting for the children. They are all of our children. With all of us working together to improve conditions for students and teachers, we can help the children be successful in their endeavors.