Stay put? Go back?

I wonder if I should start paying attention to my dreams more. On several mornings this past year I’ve woken from a dream in which I’m in the classroom, or I’m teaching, or I’m surrounded by kids, or I’m doing something teacherly – and then I wake up and feel like I’m missing something. Should I go back to the classroom?

I’ve been in this profession since 1990. Teaching has been my life. After 26 years in, however, teachers usually start looking at how many years they have left, when and how to retire. I've found myself doing the same. I know I'm not totally content in my current position. For the last two years I’ve been in a support role, coaching new teachers, providing professional development, running data, and going to meetings.

It’s just not as satisfying as the teacher life. There’s nothing like teaching kids how to write, reading with them, getting them excited about new things, and letting them figure things out for themselves. It’s fulfilling and heartbreaking and joyful to be responsible for a classroom kids who depend on you in different ways; you get to watch them grow, you form relationships with them, you push them and protect them. Teaching is how you move the world forward, how you connect with the future, how you keep dreams alive. I miss that.

Now, I know teaching isn’t what it used to be – and that if I were presently in the classroom, I would be complaining about the paperwork, the lesson plans, too much testing, demanding administrators, and disengaged parents, and the pointless meetings.

But I still miss teaching. And I know that, if it’s popping up in my dreams as often as it does, it’s because my soul is trying to tell me something.

Bitter fruit

I was recently at an informal gathering of coworkers, all of whom work at school in some capacity.  It was nice to see everyone in summer mode, wearing t-shirts, shorts, flip-flops... sipping on cold drinks and enjoying chips, burgers and dogs, fresh fruit, and key lime pie.  The relaxed atmosphere was very pleasant, something I know everyone needed after a long and stressful school year.

However, some of the conversation troubled me.  I was disappointed to hear some people talk so poorly about the kids they worked with.  I hated hearing some of them preface several negative comments with "these parents".  I cringed when one of them - the same one I've seen being downright abusive to children - talked about how much she "couldn't stand them".  A few of them even mentioned the many ways they "got away with" stuff all year... I don't even want to go in to detail. 

Some of us stayed quiet, listened, maybe raised an eyebrow.  We made eye-contact, some of us, and in that mirada said to each other, "look what they're doing to our kids".  Some of us, for whom teaching and advocating for children has become our life's work... nos quedamos calladas, we remained silent.

Inwardly, I was giving these gals a piece of my mind; I wish I could tell them to GO elsewhere with their bad attitude and mediocrity.  If only I could say out loud that I blame them for the way things have gone sour in this profession.  I wanted to say something. I wanted to speak up for the kids and their parents.  I wanted to tell them...

And if I had said something... would they have even listened?  I can only hope the summer rest will sweeten their outlook a bit.  It's not so much that I care about them - I'm thinking about the little kids they'll meet in September.

Passion becomes a problem...

An educator/blogger I've been following asks Where is the Passion?

It's a great post, but I felt a bit guilty when I read it. I had just posted a few days ago about how OVERJOYED I was that we had gotten a couple of snow days. I was that tired and frustrated; I needed a break.

It also felt like Mr. Anderson was writing about me. I'm that teacher who has become disillusioned. I've been thinking I can't keep doing this head-butting thing much longer.

If I were one of those folks who does what their told, enters and exits the building at the sound of the bell, doesn't speak up for the kids, doesn't speak up for the parents, and thinks "it is what it is" - well then, I wouldn't feel this way. School can be a lonely place when you're the only one sweating real issues.

I'm an idealist I guess. I still dream about pushing my kids up and out, guiding them to love books and words, learning together how to connect within and outside of the classroom with all of the tools we're fortunate to have. I can't look at school as a business, and I can't stand to hear another person tell me to "just lay low" and "do what you have to do".

That's too easy. And yet, when you let passion drive you, you get like me - overly contemplative, stressed out, and becoming bitter.

Thankfully, when I get to school tomorrow morning, and I see my kids' faces... passion will get a kick in the rear and fire up.

Customer Service

(Here is what I wish I had overheard and seen in the main office this morning, when a young mother came to pick up her child from school.)

Good Morning! How can I help you? (Smile...)

You're here to sign your child out? May I ask the reason? (Nod politely...)

Alright then. May I ask your child's name?

And what room is your child in? Teacher's name? (Prod patiently...)

You're not sure? Well, if you tell me what grade your child is in, I can help you with that.

Please sign here while I call for your child. (Point, provide a pen...)

You're not sure where to sign? Here, please sign here. (Smile...)

Now, please have a seat while you wait for your child to come down. Can I help you with anything else? (Smile...)

Here is your child! Do you have everything? It was nice to meet you - have a lovely day! (Smile and wave...)

Dear mother-in-the-office,
I am sorry your experience in our school was so uncomfortable this morning. I wish I had stepped in to take over. Unfortunately there are certain "territories" that must not be invaded and I've been told not to get involved when I see this happening.

You were spoken to disrespectfully. The person whose job it was to assist you was rude and impatient. I would not be surprised if you avoid coming to our school in the future and if you speak poorly about our staff.

My Torture Chamber

I apologize to my loyal readers for not posting regularly in the past couple of weeks. I've been doing mean things to kids, all in the name of TESTING.

Here is a violent run-down of what's been keeping me occupied:

1. Squeezing in more math skills
2. Cramming in more writing
3. Force-feeding hideously long reading passages to "practice" comprehension
4. Killing the love of writing because they are making me teach formulaic strategies for responding to writing prompts
5. Hanging up signs, posters, and other "nice-looking" items on every available blank space, because an important person will be visiting next week
6. Slapping up extra vocabulary words on my Word Wall because K and X "are empty" and a few of the other letters don't have "enough"

I'm sorry kids, but they make me do it.

The mistreatment is self-inflicted as well. I've confined myself to my dark, damp basement to grade papers, do report cards, and write lesson plans. Meanwhile, it's 88 and gorgeous outside.

Our state test is scheduled to begin on May 4th. Until then, and until it's over, more gritting of teeth and relentless stress.

Can't wait to take back my classroom. Can't wait to read and write real stories and poems together. Can't wait for exciting math projects. Looking forward to returning to the kind of teaching and learning that actually means something.

Small Talk

While washing my hair, a young girl tells me about her classes at the community college. She thinks she'll probably transfer to a four year school, and "go for" teaching. "Might as well" she adds. Next, she gives me a rundown of what she'll be doing this weekend.

"My boyfriend and I are going to this big party on Saturday night, and an even bigger one Sunday night. We're gonna be sooooo trashed. I'm gonna be soooooo tired. I'm gonna have to call my teacher tonight."

"Why?" I ask, bored with what I already know she's going to say.

"Well, there's no way I can go to an 8:00 am class and take an exam. Screw that. He's gonna have to let me make it up, 'cause I'm NOT taking an exam on a Monday morning when I'm so tired. Besides, I wanna have a good time Sunday night, ya know?"

"Mmmmmm, yeah" I reply, glad she has at this point hastily thrown a towel over my head, so she can't see the face I'm making. She will one day be someone's teacher. Lovely.

I then walk over to my favorite stylist's station and take my seat at the mirror. I look straight ahead, watching her behind me, her scissors flying around my head. As she does her magic, I compliment her on her tousled, brown curls, and congratulate her on her recent wedding. There's something radiant about her, and I realize she's happy, in love, the world ahead of her.

We talk about movies. She and her husband have just seen the one that has garnered all the awards last month. "I hated it!" she complains. "It was awful to see how they live! Why do I need to see that? How depressing! Why make a movie like that? My life is good. I don't need to see all that."

I remained quiet. I felt disappointed. I wanted to tell these girls so many things. But, I am not their teacher.

Times Like These

Why, when you think you have it together, do you start rethinking everything?

Words fail me tonight. I can't find them when I'd most like to. I'm thinking of do-overs and looking ahead, some kind of change. Maybe I just need to go for a long walk in the sunshine.

Here is Dave Grohl of Foo Fighters singing "Times Like These". I believe he is singing what I'm feeling.

Wax, wick, and will

This week was horrible.

She went back to school on Monday after almost two glorious weeks of winter vacation. Knowing she had loads of work to hand in, plus the cold, and the pains that had been increasing lately, all week she felt like she was walking in a fog.

Work is doing her in. She’s a teacher. She works with fourth graders. After 18 years at this, she expected things to get easier. The total opposite has happened.

It’s not the kids. They’re a pleasure. She still believes in this profession. Teaching fills her, it satisfies, it’s her mark on tomorrow.

But give her a break, please!

This teacher is no good to anyone when they take advantage of her, when they overload her day with so many wasteful, silly, insignificant things to do, when they don’t give her a chance to use the ladies’ room, when she can’t eat a sorry piece of sandwich on her lunch break, when they expect her to write lesson plans and correct papers and fill out reports until 11 at night and during the entire weekend.

This teacher has stopped sleeping for all of the thousands of things she thinks about in the dark.

This week she accepted that the flame is flickering, barely holding on.

Desahogo

Esta semana la pasó fatal.

El lunes regresó a clases después de dos semanas gloriosas de vacaciones invernales. Sabiendo que había un montón de trabajos que entregar, más el frío, más los dolores que se habían estado multiplicando ultimamente, toda la semana sintió que estaba caminando por una neblina.

El trabajo la tiene mal. Es una maestra. Enseña a niños de cuarto grado. Después de 18 años en este trabajo, esperaba que las cosas se harían más fáciles. Pués, lo contrario.

No se queja de los alumnos. Son un placer. Y no ha dejado de amar la profesión; este trabajo le llena, le satisface, es su contribución al futuro.

Pero… déjenla en paz, ¡porfavor!

La maestra no sirve para nada si la abusan, si la cargan con demasiadas responsabilidades, si no la dejan ir al baño, si no le dan tiempo por comer un miserable pedazo de sándwich en la hora de almorzar, si esperan que escriba lecciones y corrija papeles y complete reportes hasta las 11 de la noche y durante todo el fin de semana.

La maestra ha dejado de dormir porque no puede dejar de pensar en miles de cosas en las horas oscuras.

Esta semana ha tenido que aceptar que a veces la llamita se quiere apagar, apenas se mantiene.

Losing focus

My apologies to the good folks who follow my blog. I've not posted for a bit because my job has taken over my life!

People need to know what teachers are dealing with these days! Who would have thought that an elementary school teacher would be so overwhelmed, so stressed out, and so overworked, that she would have to stay up on several week nights past 11 pm!

After 18 years in this profession, I thought things would become a little easier; with experience, things become second nature, you know? However, administration seems to look for more ways to bring us down, so we're practically crawling and scraping our way across the shiny floors.

Too much to describe here, and I don't wish to sound so terribly negative. But a very sad thing is happening in schools today, at least where I'm at. They are wearing us down. We are becoming tired of fighting the good fight. Morale is low. People smile weakly at each other in the hallways, speedwalking the kids to the next class, rushing to grade-level meetings where we will be told of yet another assessment that will determine what we need to focus on.

Focus. We're not able to focus any longer. There are too many foci at a time, I fear we will only be mediocre in the end.

They tell us the big focus this year is science, to incorporate it in every way possible, especially throughout the literacy block. In fact, we've been told to put aside a lot of the literature, and to use the science text and science leveled readers to teach reading. (Wow.)

At the same time, we are to focus on writing, and vocabulary. Infuse it in all areas.

And test. Benchmark tests. Quarterly tests. On-line tests. State assessments. Friday tests. Just last week I gave my 4th graders a district math test, 53 pages long, that took two days!

I'm not going anywhere. But I feel for the newer teachers who are just coming in to this field, and feeling like they will walk right back out. And I hate seeing so many colleagues becoming resentful and tired.

I feel some of that bitterness growing inside me, so I try my best to talk myself out of it on the drive to work. My kids need to see a cheerful and energetic person in the front of the room. They will get just that. I love my job, I love my kids, I love the art and science of teaching.

But I hate what has happened to school.

At the bookstore

“The cookies seem to have gotten smaller”
he says, as he clutches a bunch of
fashion magazines, comic books, the latest American Girl,
a no-carb diet book,
and "Improving Your Swing"
in the crook of his arm
and fiddles in his wallet for some plastic.
The guy behind the counter just looks at him.

There was a time when a cookie satisfied.
He could get his sugar fix on just one of these babies
back in the day,
when he was just a kid
no worries, no commitments, no plan.
A small coffee and a cookie were it
when he spent long afternoons reading, studying, planning.

Time and responsibility did a good job of fixing that.
Do you have any idea what wife, work, and kids can do to you?
Not enough anymore
even though he has everything.
He’s overdone it,
just like he's about to now on these
chocolate-laced oatmeal raisin cookies and tall java-chip banana smoothie.
Eyes too big for his many mouths,
season tickets and SUV,
wife’s shoe and bag habit,
kids’ video games and plasma TV,
piano lessons, football pools, spa treatments.
Hands too big for his wallet.
The need is too big –
it grows along with his title
and remains unfilled
despite having everything.
It was better when he had nothing.
The cookies were bigger.

And that's the way it is...

Although it's annoying to hear again and again when you're feeling poorly about things, "there's a reason for everything" seems to be the only way to feel better. How interesting to discover personally that the current housing crisis has created a domino effect. If you have a home to sell, and you want to buy, you're at the mercy of frustrated realtors and insecure buyers. Even though you may have everything lined up, you may be stuck at an impasse if others' don't have their affairs in order.

So the deal is off. I feel for the couple who looked at my place with dreamy eyes. I feel bad for us, because we're back to square one.

See Me Go Up and Down

I own a house. I wanted a new house. I put my house up for sale.
I cleaned, dusted, fixed, painted, patched, and repaired.
I swept and vacuumed.
I waited.
People came, looked, and left.
I waited.
I cleaned, dusted, fixed, painted, patched, and repaired some more.
I swept and vacuumed.
People came, looked, and left.
I waited.
One couple came, looked, and liked.
One couple made an offer.
I countered, they offered again. I countered, they offered again.
We agreed.
We went looking. And looking. And looking.
We saw one, we loved it, we made an offer.
He countered, we offered, he countered, we offered again.
We agreed.
They signed, we signed, he signed, we signed again.
We signed, and signed, and signed.
The banker said yes.
We felt happy. We were excited. We smiled. We packed.

The phone rang. The lawyer had bad news.
"They cannot buy your home because they are not qua-li-fied."
They are first-time buyers. They have no money."
Oh, no! Its true!
I can buy, but I can't sell!

The way it was going to be

We were going to plant a vegetable garden
and i even said i would mow that huge lawn
the exercise would have been perfect
and in the mornings i would have looked out across the land
while i drank my first cup of coffee
watching the colors change
the deck would have been your second office
you like to write outside
our old fridge would have been in the garage
where we would stash beer, soda and
extra juice boxes where son and godchild could help themselves
because we wanted him and the cousins to be around a lot
jumping in the pool
running around and riding bikes
and wouldn't it have been awesome to be able to have the entire family
over and have big parties?
and i was dreaming about my brother dropping in for coffee
and my sister-in-law and i going for walks
and my boy...
tears me up when i think he just wanted to have someone to play with.