I should be doing lesson prep right now, but this post has been weighing on me for a while now, and I have to share it.
I recently returned to teaching - especially high school teaching in a public school context. I had missed it desperately during my year as a Ph.D. student working in an administrative position. I didn't realize how much I loved teaching - circulating, guiding, discussing, bonding - until I wasn't doing it. At all. I realized that sitting in front of a computer, doing paperwork, and attending administrative meetings was never going to bring me joy. I am deeply grateful for the many people who do these things and do them well. They allow so many other people to do their jobs.
What I didn't remember about teaching after a break, particularly a break from in-school work (I'd been teaching retail classes and tutoring sessions for a for-profit test prep company), was the amount of risk it was. In my case, it's been a financial risk - the market in Michigan is variable, and the company I work for doesn't guarantee salaries, hours, benefits, etc.
That's not really the risk I mean, though. When I returned to classrooms full of 25 juniors, in at least one case with many from lower income backgrounds, I offered them everything I can. I offered them my classroom management skills. I offered them my test prep expertise. I offered them my content training from undergrad and grad school. In some cases, I have offered knowledge, though small, of their first languages. I even offered my knowledge of motivation theory.
I have also offered them my heart. I have tried to get to know as many students as I can, although I am only there one day per week. I have tried to understand their situations. I have tried to learn and share their dreams. With at least a few, I must be succeeding. One asked me to come to a Powderpuff game. Another wants me to see him in the marching band. One disclosed that her good friend had committed suicide. A few have been excited to tell me about presentations they've seen from college representatives.
I have found great joy in this, amongst all the challenges. Classroom work, for me, is incredibly stimulating - one of the hardest jobs I've ever had. So much can go wrong. But when it goes right, it's magic.
The risk is the pain that can come with that joy. When we choose love, it doesn't make everything okay. It doesn't mean people will love us back. It doesn't mean that we can protect them from everything bad that could happen to them. When I was in administration, there wasn't as much love for me to choose, but there also wasn't the risk of so much pain. I left teaching for a time because I wasn't in a place to handle that kind of pain. I couldn't handle calling CPS so often. I couldn't handle the child with an ashy face and braids from eight weeks ago falling out late to school and stressed because he hadn't gotten breakfast and maybe hadn't had dinner either. I couldn't handle not having custodial services, the children being served moldy grapes for lunch, and blatant safety/fire code violations.
I hope that now I am able to understand what is and isn't mine to handle. I hope that I can offer my students everything I have, but recognize when I have no more. I hope that I can continue to fight to practice self-care. But mostly, I hope that I will remember to choose to love. Fiercely. Always. And I hope my students see that. I hope the whole world sees it.
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