Snow Day

A job is a job. I like to tell myself, "If what I do were easier and more fun, people would pay to do it instead of getting paid to do it." At the same time, I must admit that I don't exactly work for the great pay or anything.

 I'm a teacher.

My job can be rough, and people who aren't teachers seem to have a vague idea about that. Most people I talk to about my job bring up how "tough kids are to deal with these days," which is unquestionably true. However, there are other things about teaching that people who aren't teachers usually don't understand.

 I must say that many people don't have any conception about the time teachers actually spend on their work. Even my husband still doesn't realize all that my job entails. We actually fought about it when I first began working in the classroom. The scene would be like this --

( Midnight. On the couch of Brandy's living room. A lamp is on near her head, papers are scattered all around her on the couch, and she's crying when her husband comes into the room.)

Husband: What are you doing?

Brandy: Grading papers. (still weeping.)

Husband: Why are you crying?

Brandy: I have to finish this, but I'm so exhausted. And I still haven't planned for tomorrow yet. And
I'm losing my planning period to administer the state test for biology tomorrow.

Husband: Well, what do you have to do with biology? I'd just tell them to make the science teachers do that; it's not your job.

Brandy: It doesn't work like that, Sweetheart. The biology teachers can't give their test -- it's against the rules.

Husband: So? How is it your job?

Brandy: It just is. Okay?

Husband: Well, maybe if you managed your time better at work, this wouldn't be happening. What are you doing all day anyway? You need to be doing your work.

Brandy: (frustrated) What do I do? I'm teaching my students all day, and I can't even grade one set of essays during my planning period. So that's why I have to do this now.

Husband: (shaking his head) You have got to be doing something wrong. What about the other teachers? They aren't working like this. I know they aren't. You need to get your act together and figure this out because we can't live like this.

Thankfully, we don't have those conversations anymore, partly because my husband does have a better understanding about my job. I also do my best not to cry about it in front of him anymore -- that's really what makes him mad. He can't stand it when I get upset because he wants to fix it, and sometimes he just can't do that.

Since I try to keep it to myself, a Martin Luther King, Jr. Day tradition has developed for me: the
mid-year meltdown. The first semester ends for our school after the "non-specific winter holiday break," a.k.a. Christmas. That means we return back to school for about two weeks after the holiday to review and give our students their exams. Then we have a few teacher workdays and turn right around to begin a brand new semester, a semester that begins with nearly nine weeks without any kind of break.

Let me anticipate what you're thinking. "What? Big deal. I work year round with just a few breaks. Teachers are such whiners! What about all that time off?" Frank McCourt calls it "ATTO" in his book Teacher Man. I'll give you a more sizable quote from him in a minute.

I'd like to address this idea in two ways. First, remember all that extra work? When do you think it gets done? You guessed it, during "ATTO."

Second, please don't underestimate the mental and emotional drain. One of my friends says, "Other people don't fully comprehend the pace of what we do." I'm not going to spend a lot of time on this because it's hard to really convey what it's like to someone who hasn't experienced it or something like it. I imagine doctors and nurses know what it's like. I would say teaching is being busy every minute, but "busy" doesn't really cover it. It's more like multi-tasking every minute. We greet a multitude of young people every day, care for their needs, worry about their home lives, discipline them, and love them. Here's the kicker: somewhere in there we're supposed to be doing our "real" job and teaching them something so they can have a good future. I hope that you can see that's a lot of responsibility and pressure for one person to handle.

Everything I've mentioned so far can make navigating the "teaching lifestyle" a bit difficult, but there's more. I'm not kidding.

Unfortunately, education also happens to be a favorite red herring of politicians everywhere. The circus hoops and documentation that accompany what should be the simple acts of teaching, mentoring, and learning are always changing as government leaders, who essentially have nothing to do with education, change the "official" rules. Children are precious, and most everyone agrees their needs should be prioritized. Politicians capitalize on that unifying belief, so we'll all vote for them.

I won't go into detail about how bureaucracy affects education; that needs its own blog post just like the psychological impact of teaching does. Politicians aren't the only ones who take education for granted -- our whole culture does. It seems America wants happy, well-educated, well-adjusted children without respecting the people and the process required to make that happen. Here's that Frank McCourt quote I promised.

In America, doctors, lawyers. generals, actors, television people and politicians are admired and rewarded. Not teachers. Teaching is the downstairs maid of professions. Teachers are told to use the service door or go around the back. They are congratulated on having ATTO (All That Time Off). They are spoken of patronizingly and patted retroactively on their silvery locks. Oh, yes, I had an English teacher, Miss Smith, who really inspired me. I’ll never forget dear old Miss Smith. She used to say that if she reached one child in her forty years of teaching it would make it all worthwhile. She’d die happy. The inspiring English teacher then fades into gray shadows to eke out her days on a penny-pinching pension, dreaming of the one child she might have reached. Dream on, teachers. You will not be celebrated.
 

Sure, there are times when teachers are recognized. We do have a national teacher of the year, right?  Do you know who the current one is? I don't. We're more likely to hear from the media about the latest celebrity divorce than about our country's most excellent educator. I can hear your thoughts again, "What about those inspirational teacher movies?" Okay. Okay. You're right, but those people are the few representatives of the 7.2 million teachers currently at work in our country today, according to the Census Bureau.

Teaching is so crazy that Morgan Spurlock made a mockumentary about it called Chalk. If you're a teacher, you should watch it. It's hilarious.



 Not every teacher can be teacher of year, and that's okay. You'd be surprised to find out that most teachers would be happy with a "Thanks" or for our governmental leaders to show some consideration for us.

Truthfully, there are lots of things I love about my job: word-smithing all day, building real relationships, giving back to the world. No day is ever the same in the classroom. My students challenge me.  I'm doing something that requires every ounce of strength, energy, creativity, patience, compassion, and discipline I've got.

Frank McCourt might sound a little bitter, but even he kept going back into the classroom year after year. I get that. Teaching has some frustrating hardships, and lots of people try it out to find it isn't the job for them. Yet some of us keep coming back for more. It's possible we're crazy, but I think the real reason is passion.

If you know me or have read my other posts, you probably already realized that I'm crazy about Jesus. I'm bringing that up because I am convicted that being a teacher is something he's called me to do. It might sound stupid or miserable to do something because someone else wants you to do it, but when Jesus is the one doing the asking, there's nothing stupid or miserable about it. In fact, I've found so much joy in the classroom despite all the things I just told you about.

Let me also point out that he always supplies everything I need to do the things he asks. Today is the perfect example. The reason I'm able to sit here and write this is because it's a snow day. I don't know if you've thought about it or not, but it's time for my annual Martin Luther King, Jr. Day weekend meltdown. I've been praying about it for the past few days because I've felt it coming on. I've been fatigued and generally dispirited.

Today is an answer to my prayers. God has offered me an extra day to read, rest, pray, and write about the things that have been on my mind. Just for the record, I already thanked him for it.

Here's what I wrote on a different snow day a few years ago:

I have learned not to rush moments like these. Simple pleasures are worth more to me now. Being crowded by seventy-five students for hours at a time will sour one's taste for action and excitement. All I need now is a snow day with a cup of coffee, birds roosting on the porch out of the blizzardy winds, and my solitude to enjoy. I have learned to savor moments like these because they are the rare sweets sent my way. I have also learned not to cling too hard. The time will pass and tomorrow will be another chaotic day without which I couldn't truly appreciate today.

"If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!" Matt. 7:11 ESV