Confessions of a Burned Out Teacher

To say it's been awhile since I blogged would be an understatement. I've thought a few times about blogging but haven't been able to muscle up the desire to sit down and write.  A couple of weeks ago, my cousin, who is also an educator, brought up how he hadn't seen my blog in awhile and wondered if I was still writing. Sadly, the answer was no. Writing has always been one of my passions. In fact, I spent most of my young life aching to be a writer and spent a lot of time writing stories and journaling.  My desire to be a professional writer waned in high school, but writing remained an outlet for me until the past year.

I finished my dissertation and successfully defended in February 2017. This monumental event should have brought much needed relief and free time to my life, but my time was redirected to my administrator's license that I began working on in January 2017. Slowly but surely, the program killed the writer in me. I'm not saying it was the program itself that killed the writer in me, but I was over school at that point.  I had been in grad and post grad school since 2007 and the doctorate was supposed to be the culmination of my educational experience. Yet, here I was taking more classes, writing more papers, and writing discussion posts of 250 words. I even lost valuable time with my sisters this past summer because I had a 15 page leadership paper due.  I rarely wanted to sit at my laptop because it became synonymous with work. My Saturdays this fall were often devoted to assignments and any time I had left went to trying to figure out how to survive the week at school and have a little fun. Five new teachers in the English department, my internship for my license, three preps, countless new initiatives, and my last class for my license just about did me in. Or maybe it did.

In November, my former college professor and mentor recognized that I was burned out. Somehow, amidst all the chaos and hustle and bustle, my light went out. I was tired and not the kind of tired that would go away with a good night's sleep. My soul was tired. I was empty creatively, philosophically, and educationally.  I was frustrated because  I wanted to do better, but I didn't even know where to begin.  I was being pulled in a lot of directions and my life was clearly unbalanced.

December was a whirlwind of testing and I just wanted to make it to December 22 which by God's grace and faithfulness I did. The start of the second semester is right around the corner and includes more challenges: my internship, more testing, the implementation of new initiatives, and the daily grind that is teaching. I would like to say that this past break left me rejuvenated and that my light was shining brightly, but that would be a lie.  I am, however, hopeful about second semester, and am embracing balance as my word of the year in 2018.  I'm looking forward to teaching some of my favorite units, to learning and growing as an educational leader, and working diligently to become the best (balanced) version of myself.

Here's to 2018.

Moving forward

I'm sitting here in the computer lab trying to wrap up the conclusion of my dissertation on culturally responsive teaching.  I've been agonizing over this section, wrestling with what I really wanted to convey, and how best to do it. I noticed that I felt conflicting feelings because what I really wanted to write had to do with a different topic, so I am turning to my blog instead.

I've worked in urban education for fourteen years. My mother was a Head Start social worker for thirty years.  I am the daughter of a proud Mexican American who began his life working as a migrant worker and ended up with a key to the city after devoting much of his life as police officer.  I defied the odds and went not only to college, but to grad school.  I attended an all women's college that cultivated my strength as a woman but also elevated my belief that there are two distinct worlds in the United States.  That's OK, because I don't really care for the other world too much, anyway. But what I realized over the past month, and specifically election night, was just how much my world doesn't matter to them...and some of those people are my friends and family.

My world is ugly to many. We're brown, White, Yellow, and Black. We're poor, middle class, or in some cases rich. We have cultural norms that are different than most.  We have to make decisions that other people will never even have to consider. We will be pulled over simply for driving. We will have our asses slapped at work and will have to act like it's OK because boys will be boys...even when they're grown men.  We will be called thugs, hoodlums, rapists, liars, thieves, and delinquents.  We will be shot for stealing a carton of cigarettes.  We will be used for our cheap labor, be mocked for speaking two languages, ridiculed for our accents.  We will be asked to assimilate, to act White or more proper.  We will be told we aren't pretty because our skin is too dark, our hair too nappy, or our butts too big. We will be told we are intrinsically evil because of our sexual orientation, our religious beliefs, or our head scarf.  We will be told we're too loud, too brazen, too ghetto.  We will be told racism doesn't exist and that we live in a post-racial society, yet have to explain to our children why someone would enter our church and kill us all simply because we're Black.  We will be judged for working a system that is worked even better by people who make more money than we could ever imagine.  We are judged for our hustle and judged for our protests. We are mocked and ridiculed for fighting for social justice. We are told that all lives matter even when it's clear every day that we eat and breathe that our lives don't matter to everyone.  We live in a world where people die from senseless violence, a lack of hope, and dehumanization.  We live in a world where we are told that life is sacred and begins in the womb, but is not valued, protected, or loved once it's born.  We attend schools that are underfunded, lack resources, and pay someone who isn't even a teacher to teach. We are broken, tired, and frustrated.

You don't have to like or even understand my world because you will never have to live in it, but you can acknowledge that it exists.

So, yes, we are grieving today. Personally, I'm not grieving because Clinton loss and Trump won. Somewhere deep down I think I expected him to.  I saw my friends' posts about the importance of nominating a conservative supreme court justice, appealing Obamacare, and protecting religious liberties.  I can and do respect a difference in world views.

What I can't respect is the failure to recognize what Trump stands for. And this isn't an invitation to compare Trump's ethical issues with Clinton's because she isn't the president elect.

What do I want from you? I want you to say, I voted for Trump because I believe in the sanctity of life.  So I vow that I will fight for the lives of all people. I will fight against racism, prejudice, and inequality.

I want you to say that it's not OK for women to be the victims of sexual assault, sexism, or sexual harassment.

I want you to shut down racially charged comments about immigrants or any other ethnic group, and to stop using them yourself.  

I want you to start acting like all lives matter.

The Price of Inequity

In 1954 Chief Justice Earl Warren said:“In these days, it is doubtful that any child may reasonably be expected to succeed in life if he is denied the opportunities of an education.  Such an opportunity, where the state has undertaken to provide it, is a right that must be made available on equal terms.”

Over sixty years ago, the Brown v. Board of Education case sought to provide an equitable education for all children, yet we are failing to provide equity across the nation.

I am here today to speak about the school to prison pipeline, yet I cannot speak about the pipeline without addressing the inequity that is plaguing our urban school districts.  I have spent my entire twelve year career as an educator in urban education.  While my experience as a teacher has never been easy, it has become increasingly more challenging over the past six years.  Over the past six years, I have experienced the effects of reduced funding, high stakes testing mandates, and a lack of resources.

Some people will say that students have changed, but I contend that students have not changed.  They are kids.  Some are joyful, industrious, and compassionate.  Others are broken, angry, and lost.  They are the product of their lived experiences, and it is our responsibility as their teachers to provide the best educational experiences we can, no matter what challenges our students bring into the classroom.  

Unfortunately, nationally and locally, teachers are often asked to do it alone.  

Locally, we need highly qualified and licensed co-teachers to help us meet the diverse needs of our special education students, yet we have paraprofessionals who have received little to no training about how to work with students, how to redirect behavior, or how to lead a lesson.   

We need to provide a culturally responsive and relevant education to our students, yet we’re handed curriculum guides and textbooks that are Eurocentric, standardized, and are often irrelevant to our students.  As a result, many of us spend hours writing grants so that we can buy the materials we need to engage our students.  

We need legislators to get out of our way so we can teach and do what’s best for our students.

We need more time to spend on character education, conflict resolution,  and relationship building without feeling like we’re not going to prepare our students to pass a myriad of assessments over the course of the year, including the ISTEP.

We need schools full of highly qualified and highly effective, culturally responsive teachers.  

Not only do we need these resources, our students need these resources.  While my experience has been in the high school, these resources are denied to teachers and students starting in kindergarten.

Urban, high poverty schools, can be difficult to staff with highly effective teachers.  Despite efforts to provide quality teachers, research shows that students in high poverty schools often have less access to quality teachers than students in more affluent schools (Glazerman & Max, 2011).  

A lack of resources, time, and staff, means that students do not receive the socio-emotional support they need via consistent and equitable access to school counselors, social workers, and psychologists

A Euro-centric curriculum that is the norm across the U.S. means that too often students do not see themselves reflected in the curriculum, yet we wonder why they are not engaged.

A lack of cultural diversity among educators, means that it can be challenging to provide students with a bias-free and anti-racist education.

The product of what students do not receive from the age of 6 is evident in the achievement gap, student misbehavior, and the school to prison pipeline.

Student misbehavior is a valid concern. Not all teachers are prepared to handle misbehavior when it arises and not all misbehavior is easy to handle.

Those of us who strive to keep our students in the classroom, cannot control students’ decisions to fight, skip school, or engage in verbal aggression with other students.  We know that if a student is not in our room, then they cannot learn.  We also know that sometimes no one can learn because one  student is in our classroom.  This is a struggle that many educators wrestle with, as we try to maintain a safe and effective learning environment for students.

It can be physically, mentally, and emotionally draining to manage student misbehavior, and many educators don’t have the energy to fight anymore.  

Sometimes it’s easier to remove a student from class than to spend the time preventing or mitigating that behavior in the first place.

Sometimes it’s challenging to have a student call you a slew of names without taking it personally.

Sometimes it’s hard to go from breaking up a fight, to teaching an engaging lesson like nothing happened.

It’s difficult knowing that for many of our students, the only option they have for breaking the rules is being suspended or expelled.  

It’s even harder to know that for students who are already on probation, the only option they have when they break the rules is to return to the Juvenile justice center, where they will become further behind in school, become isolated from friends and families, and be more likely to commit recidivism.

Many of us recognize the need to reduce suspensions and expulsions, yet few of us in urban education have received the support and resources we need to do so.

If we truly want to provide an educational experience that leads students to success, then we must invest in early childhood education, provide a rigorous and relevant curriculum, develop and promote cultural responsiveness, invest in conflict resolution training, and meet the needs of the whole child.