Tuesday, July 26, 2022

Secondary Educator

I teach teenagers. 

They're not children, but they're also not adults. They can be sweet and they can be sulky. 

They are always tired, or hungry, or both. 

Sometimes they want to learn and participate. Sometimes they don't. They may need to be left alone, or they may need someone to ask them how they are and listen. They sometimes want to stir up trouble, or get into a verbal wrestling match. They can be sweet and ornery in turn. And I love them. 


This age, for whatever reason, is my passion, but teaching this age is tough.  Parents only contact us if they have a problem or concern about us or their student. They don't think about us until they're angry. 

Being a teacher right now is tough. 

Last year was my first time back in the classroom in ten years. I taught high school science for three years before deciding to stay home with my children while they were small and not yet in school. I have been out of the classroom for a while and I knew stepping back in would be a hard transition, but I had no idea what I was in for my first year back.

Last year was also the most difficult year of my teaching career. Period. It was worse than my very first year of teaching. If you have never taught in a classroom you may not understand the full weight of those statements, but if you're a teacher you do. I know how to manage a classroom. I know how to build relationships with my ornery teenagers. I know and love my content. I am not an unprepared novice, but I was wholly unprepared for teaching last year.

Last year was a battle with only one goal -- survive. 


Everyone asks, "what made it so difficult?" And the answer to that is hard to pinpoint. It wasn't one thing - it was everything. The political climate, the cultural shifts that have occurred over the last ten years, the effects of the pandemic, the expectations placed on educators, and the emotional fragility of people in general. 

I have never had so many students, in one school year, that struggled with some sort of mental or emotional health issue - anxiety, depression, panic attacks, etc.

The overwhelming expectations from the top down and from the outside in that every deficit that existed before and/or that was created during the pandemic should be corrected and made up for in a single semester or school year. 

The expectation for students to act like the last three years didn't happen. The expectation of teachers to teach and produce results as if the last three years didn't happen. The expectation for teachers to bend to every whim of every parent and every student.


It's unrealistic. It's unfair. It's reality. 

We can't please everybody, but we're asked to. 


I am going into this school year with a fragile hope that it will be better, but I also have a lot of anxiety that it will be the same, or worse. I want to thrive, so that my students can as well, but there is so much that I have no control over. All I can do is show up and love my students and teach my content in the most engaging ways I know how, so that is what I will do. 

I pray the overwhelming expectations of administrators and parents won't overshadow everything else, that my profession will not continue to be maligned, and that we will be given the resources we need to educate students successfully. The same students who in three or four years will be graduating into colleges and universities or joining the workforce. The next generation of adults. 

If you are a supporter of education and teachers please continue your efforts and don't forget about teachers once your kids are teenagers.

If you are not a supporter please remember that you are a product of education also. We need schools. We need teachers - preferably good ones that love their job. 

Don't make it harder for teachers to love the work they do. It is such important work.  



Friday, May 6, 2022

Joy and Sorrow

I didn't post anything on social media; which in this day and age, begs the question, "did it happen?" However, yesterday was our 15th wedding anniversary. Fifteen years of marriage. Fifteen years of choosing one another, forgiving one another, and building our life together. 



Our marriage has been through some of the toughest trials we have ever faced over the last three years, so this milestone feels especially big and special. Monumental. 

Joyful.

Last night we received word that my Aunt - who's health has been in decline for some months - was most likely not going to make it through the night. This morning we got confirmation that she had passed. She was a believer, so though we feel the loss of her acutely, we are not without hope. Death. 

Grief


Deep sadness at our loss, but rejoicing that she is with Jesus; both feelings mingled together. 

On my drive to work, as I cried over the passing of my aunt from this world, I saw a family of geese with three new goslings. The grass was a vibrant green and the trees and flowers were blooming. 

Rebirth. New life. Spring. 

The world keeps turning. New life and death interwoven. 

Life is the delight of the mountain top and the anguish of the valley. Gray days and sun. Bittersweet. 


Joy and sorrow

By Sheri Lauren







Art can be purchased here:
https://fineartamerica.com/featured/joy-and-sorrow-sheri-lauren.html