An Open Letter to My Teacher Friends

 Dear Teacher Friends,

I’m not a great writer. I’m sure any English teacher who reads this will cringe internally at my constant misuse of the comma and my lengthy, run-on sentences. I’m not usually one to wax eloquent about my personal thoughts and feelings in a public way. And, really, this isn’t all that eloquent, but I’m finding it difficult keeping this all in, so I guess here it goes. I have been a high school teacher, (not of English,) for seven years, which really isn’t that long compared to many, but it’s a significant chunk of my life. Each year, the job comes with challenges, such as: changes in expectations, grading practices, curriculum, turnover in administration, and the ridiculous bureaucracy of it all, not to mention the attempt to nurture, inspire, and educate teens at arguably one of the most emotionally fragile points in their lives. And then there are the individual life circumstances of each student, many of which, I can say, are the furthest thing from ideal. I’ve accepted the bad and reveled in the good, confident that the latter would always outweigh the former. And it has - until now. I have never seriously questioned my choice to become a teacher as much as I have in the past few months. 

I was extremely fortunate growing up to have multiple opportunities and a supportive family that was committed to my education and helped me develop a strong work ethic. As a result, with the addition of my own extreme stubbornness and grit, I found myself with a wide variety of potential career choices. I briefly thought of the medical field, but, considering my propensity for passing out at the sight of open wounds, needles, etc. that quickly became a hard pass. As a young kid, I wanted to be an artist or a musician, but ultimately decided that those wouldn’t suit the stable lifestyle I wanted. I chose education, a way for me to share my knowledge and passions for music, art, math, language, etc. with others, and, at that point, I would have said I had chosen wisely. Surprisingly, when my choice would come up in conversation, people, usually well-meaning, older, upper-middle class folks who had watched me grow up, would comment, “Teaching? Really? You could do whatever you wanted? Why would you be a teacher?” essentially implying that teaching was a waste of talent and/or intelligence, or that maybe it didn’t pay well, (which, ok, valid point there.) Immediately taking offense, I would typically reply with something like, “Well, don’t you want your kids’ teachers to be smart, well-rounded individuals? And I’m fully aware of the less-than-ideal salary.” Silence from them, meaning, I win. 

Convinced of my choice, I embarked on my career, committed to convincing teenagers to master trigonometry, shred the guitar like Van Halen, and to love languages, (not English.) Admittedly, there have been some bumps in the road. Apparently trigonometry is not always delightful, and I guess being able to play Eruption isn’t “de riguer” amongst many in the 14-18 crowd...but that’s ok. Those aren’t really the reasons I wanted to teach anyway. What I love about teaching isn’t the content, it’s the students. Are there days when I want to repeatedly bang my head against the wall as I explain my perfectly written instructions for the eighth time in a row? Absolutely. Do I sometimes want to roll my eyes so hard they fall back into my head and stay there? Yes. But kids are kids, and we adults can’t and shouldn’t pretend that we weren’t once in the same, hormone-driven boat. They’re hilarious, smart, unique, and I swear I learn more from them than they do from me. Being an influential part of someone's young life is an honor and a responsibility that I gladly accept. There are so many rewarding moments: when you see a student gleam with understanding after weeks of struggling, or when they take an interest in what you are trying to teach them and take off with it, make it their own, make it better. Teaching, for me at least, is so little about the actual content and so much more about imparting wisdom and giving young people the ability to think critically for themselves.

But then - boom. Pandemic. And I wanted to give up. Daily. 

I don’t need to talk about online school, we were all there, we know how it was. But I had some hope for our return to in-person learning, a return to normalcy. Unfortunately, I find myself, to put it politely, somewhat disillusioned. I consider myself to be a fairly resilient person. I can roll with the punches, I’m usually a team player, and I’m pretty flexible. However, I also have a stupid amount of competitive energy that drives me to make less-than-logical decisions, often to the detriment of my mental and physical health. I say yes to things. I say yes because I don’t want to let anyone down, I don’t want students to go without, and, predominately, I don’t want it to be said that I couldn’t do it. Is it juvenile and ridiculous? Yes. Is it who I am? Also yes. This year has been no different. I said yes to too many things. The teaching of all the things and the coaching and the this-and-that and also having a one-year-old son with a spouse that also works full-time, sometimes more. It’s a lot. I guess what I’m saying here is that this isn’t all Covid’s fault. It’s also me and my personality. I’m accepting some of the blame for the position in which I have found myself the past few months...but not all of it. 

On top of all of the things that teachers are normally responsible for, now there is more, thanks to Covid. It seems endless. I find myself playing catchup most of the time,  I have constant doubt in my abilities, feel listless, and feel at the end of my rope all the time. We are retraining kids who haven’t been in a classroom in a year-and-a-half on how to be students, and it’s hard! I’m trying to master this, that, and the other software, and keep track of who was gone and when and what they missed and what they didn’t and…yeah. There are so many new elements to our job (a lot of them technology related), so many significant societal and educational changes made in so little time, shortages of all staff, and copious amounts of new daily tasks that I just want to cave and say, “forget it. What’s the point?” I’m exhausted from trying to be as “relevant” as TikTok, from making students conjugate Spanish verbs until they’re blue in the face, from trying to be patient and empathetic all day every day, and from having to answer the question, “Why do I need to know this? How is this important?” 

Despite how much I’ve written already, I still don’t feel like I’ve found the words to express all of my feelings about it. Like I said, I have never before so seriously questioned my job choice and my value as an educator.

But then I got this note. 

I’ve gotten similar notes before, but this came on a perfect day, at the perfect time. It reminded me, once again, of why I’m here. Why I did choose wisely. 

I have to believe that this weird, insane time is just a blip on the radar, a season of life that will pass just as these things do, something that we just have to ride out. I may be foolish for thinking so, but so it is. Teacher friends, the kids are struggling, too. 

But guess what… they love you. 

They love that you are there for them, that you make yourself crazy and say yes to too many things, that you try to be “cool” and “relevant” just to keep them engaged long enough to impart some wisdom. They love that you laugh at your own “dad” jokes. They even love you because you hold them to a standard, you believe in them. You’re that person in their life, the one who makes a difference. Maybe some will write you notes, maybe some won’t. But guaranteed, you are making an impact and you are important. Know that you aren’t alone in this and never doubt the value of what you do. You’re awesome. 

Rebecca