Dear Drowning Teacher,
Today was hard, not hard like roofing a house or pouring concrete hard, but hard all the same. It was the kind of hard they don't tell you about in college or fully disclose in the job description when you are applying for a teaching position. For most of us, it's been awhile since we've carefully inspected our teaching contracts. The language is grossly generic and includes phrases like:
Bachelors degree or higher from an accredited institution
Meets professional teacher education requirements of school, district, state
State certification
Knowledge of relevant technology
In the fine print, they should include the truth. Phrases like:
may require frequent hallway conversations to counsel a student who is an emotional wreck upon returning to school the first day after his father's death from COVID-19
extensive experience with spotting signs of abuse, drug use, neglect, or suicidal thoughts
ability to gracefully pivot at any moment between a remote, virtual, or face to face mode of instruction
skilled experience with accommodating the needs of learners who do not speak English and have severe cognitive impairments
the emotional fortitude to withstand having your heart ripped out of your chest every two to three hours
a can-do attitude regarding everything, literally everything, without voicing dissent to unreasonable demands
knowledge of how to create a makeshift barricade in the event of an active shooter situation and how to create a tourniquet to stop the bleeding if the barricade fails
familiarity with high yield strategies that increase learning coupled with the understanding that you can't use any of them because students are not allowed to move an inch without a verbal reprimand
ability to wear a mask for seven hours without complaining about chaffing, muffled sounds, or chapped lips.
I could keep going, but the tone would become even more soured than it already is. In general, I'm a positive person. I'm willing to bet you are too.
Most teachers are among the rare breed of people who can look at a muddle puddle and see an ocean.
To anyone listening, we want you to know we'll keep trying to stay afloat. It's who we are, but our efforts won't erase the fact that our barricades are failing and there are a lot of ships going down all around us.
Our hearts are hurting.
Our oceans are drying up quickly.
This is not sustainable forever.
We still love teaching. We still love kids. We still want to see the good, but we need a rescue- quickly.
Lifeboat, yacht, helicopter drop basket, we don't care how it comes. We just need to know somebody sees us, hears us.
We are blowing a whistle, waving a white flag, silently screaming.
Can you hear it?
-CDB