I have been a classroom teacher for 16 years, but this has been the hardest one by leaps and bounds. Pretty much every teacher I know feels the same way.
At first blush, this statement might surprise. What about the year so many of us stayed home teaching virtually? Or, even worse, working in half-filled classrooms while most of our students watched from their bedrooms? Those were some low moments. Am I seriously suggesting that anything could be worse than that?
Absolutely, and for a couple of reasons.
First, the virtual teaching, difficult as it was, served as a catalyst for so many of us. We looked around, rolled up our sleeves, and collectively said something like, 鈥淲ell, this stinks. But the kids need us, and we鈥檝e got to figure it out.鈥� Administration and teaching staff came together to recognize that none of what was hard was the fault of the children and that we had to lean in and do the best job possible given the situation. Many of us were inspired by the new technologies. On my part, I became obsessed with shooting video for a flipped-classroom vibe I had long wanted to try out.
The year was difficult, yes. But also exciting.
That excitement is completely gone at this point. Coming back to the building, for so many of us, meant only a desperate return to the status quo, to 鈥渂usiness as usual,鈥� to the relentless pursuit of test scores that the initial waves of the pandemic had swept aside. During that first phase, creativity reigned. This year has pretty much just been a slog back to moribund tradition.
The more salient reason that this year has been so hard, however鈥攁s much as I hate to write this down鈥攊s the students. They can鈥檛 sit still. They can鈥檛 stop talking. They can鈥檛 put their phones down. They can鈥檛 stop touching each other. They can鈥檛 follow simple directions. They can鈥檛 focus on a lesson or an assignment. Not all of them, of course. But enough to make every day feel like a bruising week.
I was talking to a colleague recently, and she summed it up perfectly. 鈥淓very morning we get here, and I鈥檓 bouncing with energy. But by the time we leave at the end, I鈥檓 just dragging my head.鈥�
The student behavior isn鈥檛 really their fault, either鈥攏o more than their being forced to stay at home because of a global pandemic. We鈥檙e now on our third straight school year of extreme disruption鈥攁 huge chunk in the lifetime of any child. I remind myself regularly that the last time my 8th grade students had a 鈥渘ormal鈥� springtime in a school building they were still in elementary school. Forget the pandemic for a moment and just imagine the physical changes their bodies and minds have been through during that time (adolescence, anyone?). Now, add to that the fact that something like two-thirds of my students didn鈥檛 set foot in a school building between March 13, 2020, and August 2, 2021. Who can blame them for not quite knowing how to act in class?
We can't 'catch up' when we're having a hard time just treading water, swimming in a pool full of dysregulated emotions.
There are those who say that the 鈥渓earning loss鈥� of the last two years is primarily to blame for our problems, but I politely disagree. All else being equal, children are like sponges鈥攃apable of absorbing far more than is necessary to get the regular job done. We could teach them two years of material in one year鈥檚 time, but only if we get the chance. The social and emotional distractions, however, are stacked against us. We can鈥檛 鈥渃atch up鈥� when we鈥檙e having a hard time just treading water, swimming in a pool full of dysregulated emotions. Nor when every morning feels like a spin on fortune鈥檚 wheel of problem behaviors.
Oh, and don鈥檛 forget about the bus driver shortage. And the difficulty retaining cafeteria workers and custodians. And the lack of substitute teachers. Keeping these positions filled has been a difficult task for so many schools鈥攂ut here, too, there is no one to blame. Teachers for the most part have salaries and good benefits packages to get us back to work every Monday; I wonder how many of us would feel differently if we were paid by the hour?
Of course, many teachers are questioning even that much security, announcing departures for next year or even quitting in the middle of this one. A few are taking a preponderance of 鈥渕ental health days鈥� or intentionally scheduling appointments during classes they want to miss or on Friday afternoons. I don鈥檛 blame any of these educators, either, though I know I鈥檓 not alone in feeling a looming sense of dread about the coming fall. It seems as if somehow things might just get harder.
I see some 130 students every day, and, as most teachers can attest, there are by and large no 鈥渂ad kids鈥� causing the trouble and lack of focus. Rather, chaos blooms from an aggregate of off-task behavior, looping in feedback spirals that go up and up. There鈥檚 very rarely someone to blame鈥攖hus the 鈥渉ead-dragging鈥� effect my colleague noted. It鈥檚 all so dispiriting.
Every once in a while, though, a day will hit just a little bit different.
A student who pushed way past my last nerve one day approaches me the next. 鈥淚鈥檓 giving you a hug because I鈥檓 in a hugging mood,鈥� he says. Another hands me her phone鈥攏ot to ask for a charge but rather just for me to hold onto it. 鈥淭here鈥檚 too much going on,鈥� she says, 鈥渁nd I need to focus on the right things.鈥� One of my most distracted students gets his first A on a quiz. Another鈥攐ne I spent all first semester arguing with鈥攑ays me that highest of compliments: 鈥淭his is my favorite class.鈥�
Then, someone asks permission to be absent on a random Friday. She is going to observe an elementary school classroom because she might want to be a teacher when she grows up.
This has been the hardest year of my career, and I know that next year might somehow top it. Let鈥檚 be completely honest: I cannot wait for summer, for year 16 to be in the rearview mirror.
But I鈥檒l be back for 17. What else can I do but get up and go to work, every day, despite the bruises and the slog? The kids might be all right. How could I miss that?
