I love this video by Joshua Katz, mainly his statement about teachers providing "feats of human endurance" in the profession (Warning: it's a long video, save for the end)
I sat down and calculated that, because of my profession, I have to perform, at a minimum, as much time working outside of the classroom as I do inside. That's right--this job requires at least 80 hours of work each week. Consider:
7am-3pm, every weekday. (40 hours)
5pm-3am, every Saturday and every other Friday, second job to make up cash flow (~15 hours a week)
3pm-4:30pm classes every day (We'll say 6 credit hours a week)
*At some point* 12 hours of homework--I am not over doing it declaring this. Last night I spent 3 hours on one master's level homework problem (in my content area mathematics)
*At some other point* Extracurriculars! Coaching, Drama direction, professional development, grading, lesson planning, test-building... (I'll low ball it and say I spend at least an hour every day on this)
A reasonably priced mortgage (cheaper than rent) and car payment take half of my monthly pay away from me. Electric, phone, water, heat, internet, and local channels take most of the rest. My moonlighting gig pays for grocery shopping and everything else. There is no way for me to cut that. In order to continue teaching, by law, I MUST have my masters degree. I can't drop that either. I don't think I need to explain extracurriculars, though that tends to be the thing I cut back on the most--representatives from the school requested that I take up these, and I am not going to turn down my bosses this early into my career.
Notice the plethora of things I did not include: Did I mention I'm married? It's good to see her every now and then. And what if a student comes in after school for an hour of help (as one did today)? Am I to turn her away? Social life? My other jobs (I also tutor, more cash flow)? I could go on, but I won't. And to what end? Why do I do it? Joy? Love of subject?
Math is great, but it's not worth all of that. At this point, because of all the government regulations, the leviathan that is mandated testing (3 days this week alone involve testing... exam week is in two weeks...), poor pay, and the curriculum revamping seems to occur continuously, from the district level to the federal level, trust me, there is no joy in this profession anymore--at least none that outweigh all of this.
"Mr. McClellan, your sleeve is covered in chalk," A student commented the other day, much to the amusement of the class. I stopped what I was doing, and brushed it off, completely used to it at this point. It's a telling sign: To an outsider, it must be foreign to see my desk covered in papers, my clothes covered in chalk, and hands holding my head in exhaustion every day. For me, it's a typical Tuesday, 7th bell.
And that's why I do it--because it is so foreign to everyone else. Nobody realizes that summer is the time teachers work their 2nd (or in my case, 5th) job to make up their cash flow, or develop their curriculum, or work with kids in their final semester to just TRY and pass their last math credit and graduate. Nobody realizes that without Christmas and Thanksgiving breaks, most of these teachers would collapse from their lack of energy. Not a soul knows what it's like to be a teacher, except teachers. I would not presume to know the life a soldier--the only ones who know the horror of war are those who experience it first hand.
My heros are teachers. One of my best friends is a teacher, a man who changed my life. I look around and see all of the world's many issues, mainly cultural and generational, and I know the common denominator to it all is ignorance. Soldiers save lifes, and teachers make the lives worth saving. Soldiers are covered in blood of the enemy, and I know my enemy bleeds when the chalk is on my shirt. Each day I wake up, knowing my aggressor, ignorance and laziness, not only has the upper footing, but an absolute dominance. I naively believed as an undergrad that there was an ongoing war between ignorance and education, and that it was a true gridlock that I could fight to sway the tide in favor of the educated.
It's not a gridlock. Ignorance and laziness is the way of life. Those who fight for education, those teachers who survive the government's oppressive standards and choose to go beyond the testing and seek to educate the human soul and mind... those are like lasting, wounded rebels who choose to continue on the battlefield covered in the smoldering remains of their fallen comrades. I see it still: teachers who have worked for 15, 20, 25 years willing to give up their pensions because they just can't take the war anymore; breaking down and crying when the state holds them accountable for students that did not pass the test when the teacher know full well that this student can't even read; telling anyone who says "I am going to be a teacher" to avoid the profession like the plague; and perhaps saddest of all, having their own children tell them that put more effort into their work than they do with their own kids.
Those who choose to stick it out are my heroes. They refuse to accept the world of lies and the dominance of ignorance. They do it because nobody else will. They do it because nobody else can. It's a duty, a vocation, a divine call, that spurs us. I salute those who are heroes by blood, and visit the memorials of those who have fallen for our freedom. But never have I once seen a memorial for the heroes by chalk.
So I will rise from my bed after less than 5 hours of sleep tomorrow morning. I will gather my strength for another day. I will not think about the comfort of the weekend, since that holds 20 more hours of work. I will only think of the war, that might already be lost, that I have been called to fight. I, and a few select others, will endure the standards and regulations, breathe the toxic air of testing, mend the wounds of anxiety and heaven-knows-what-else-these-kids-have-to-deal-with, strengthen the minds and souls of the individuals who come (willingly or unwillingly) under our threshold, and pour our life out into this profession, praying that we survive another day under the physical, emotional, and spiritual strain.
To any teacher who may read this, you are my hero, and do not believe any word of discouragement anyone might send to you. Consider this your memorial, and more than anything else:
Endure.
