Friday, January 9, 2015

Burnout.

I used to say it wouldn't happen to me. I thought I would be that inspired, go-getter, make-a-difference, teacher for my whole career.

I was the teacher who stayed late, coached basketball, did the yearbook, created a community garden, ran detention, did school murals, or just hung out after school to talk to my students.

I did not get paid for most of this. I didn't even really care. At that point, I was newly married, but had a husband who was working late anyway, so I would just stay with my students and try to be as involved in improving my "at risk" school community as possible. When I had no children of my own, my students took over that part of my heart. I gave them all I had.

I've only ever taught in poor and urban districts. (Tucson, Allentown, and now here in Philly) I don't say this for accolades, but just to highlight the extra difficulties and lack of resources that come with the environment. This leads to burnout very early on for many new teachers.

I pushed through. I would go home and cry for the stories my students told me. I would ask family and friends for extra resources. I wrote in for grants to get materials or to bring people/speakers/events to the school.

I never did summer school so that I could come back fully recharged to take on a new year with all my heart and soul.

I used to spend hundreds, many hundreds of dollars, to make sure my classroom could function as I wanted it to. Teachers get to write off $250 of expenses on their taxes. I know my receipts far exceeded that.

I went back to school right away for my M.A. and to get more certifications. A few years in to my career, I also completed the National Board Certification process.

Again, this is not to pat myself on the back, but to make that point that I did this as a real calling and career. I did not choose teaching for getting the summers off, or because I thought it would be an "easy" job.

It has been anything but easy. I've been frustrated with a broken district...with apathetic and disrespectful people from the leaders to yes, many students and parents....but when I had those few gems each year, those students who shined so brightly through their circumstances, that I knew I had to keep going. Starfish theory. I would remain in a broken situation to be a part of the solution, no matter how small.

I've seen many unfortunate issues with racism, it plagues this district. I've had many things stolen and broken, including a laptop. I've been to the district physicians because of breaking up a fight between 8th grade boys....etc, etc, etc. I say to people, "Remember 'Dangerous Minds' and 'Freedom Writers'? Yeah, it's really like that."

And, it's true. But like in those stories, there are beautiful moments. I have learned about our society in a way I never imagined possible from my safe, suburban upbringing. I have looked into so many dark corners of my own heart and mind, and have come to realize who I am, and what my purpose is. My students are a huge part of this personal growth, and I will forever be grateful.

Last year I started an entirely new journey, teaching Life Skills. My students are all labeled with Intellectual Disability, and some are also Autistic, Non-Verbal, Emotional Support, etc.

I have found that I really enjoy this too. And it has proven to me, that really, I just love teaching. You can pretty much throw me into any classroom and I'll find something to love.

But something has turned off.

The continuous lack of support for teachers has really caused a lack of morale, even for the most hopeful of us.

I can also fully admit, that having my own child changed me drastically. She comes first now. I'm a mom and then a teacher. I used to put teaching first, so nothing came between me and my students.

As soon as my priorities shifted, it's like a veil lifted, and all the things that could have caused my early burnout, finally came into plain sight.

I still love what I do. I still do all that is required of me from 8:00-3:04, but that's all I have in me to give most days.

An issue occurred this week, a few minutes after dismissal, with one of my students. I had already gone home for the day, but theres' a part of me that feels guilty for not still being here. I remember the teacher I used to be. She would have still been at school.

But then I think. At least I'm still here from 8:00-3:04. I know so many people who have transferred to "better" districts, or have changed careers for more money.

My principal was clearly disappointed, and I know it wasn't really towards me, it was towards the atmosphere in general. She said, "I know people can leave right at 3:04, I just wish it wasn't really like that."

I just nodded. I too, wish it wasn't like that. But it is. I wanted to say it, but I didn't. She knows the situation. We haven't had a raise or our traditional "step increase" in 3 years. There is less and less money for classroom supplies, yet we are expected to do more. We keep losing teachers so class sizes are increasing. They keep talking of actually cutting our benefits and salary.

Sigh.

So yes, when it's 3:04, I want to go home. I want to go hug my own child.

I'll be back at 8:00, greeting my students with a smiling face and will love them the best I can for those 7 hours.

I'm very doubtful now that this will be my life-long career. I don't know how many more years I have left in me, and it will certainly be bittersweet if and when I make the change.

I know Philadelphia is not alone in this situation. I wish there was something that could change the dynamic. I wish poor and struggling districts were given more energy and attention, not just more mandates and tests.

I wish that the motivated and inspirational teachers and administrators stayed. I wish for a lot of positive energy that isn't present. But sadly, I'm hitting that point I never thought I'd hit. I'm burning out.

I'll bring the positive vibes to my classroom for now, and until I leave. My starfish. That much I can still promise.