A Candid Conversation About This Year and Our Profession

I was ready to quit teaching a few weeks ago. 

I don't mean theoretically. I mean that I had updated my resumé, was looking at job postings, and daydreaming constantly about a life outside of teaching. I was ready. Really, really ready.

The weird part is that I honestly couldn't pin down exactly why I was so done with teaching. This is a career that I have loved from the moment I walked into my own classroom so many years ago now. This is a career that I've poured my heart and soul into, not out of a sense of obligation, but because I genuinely wanted to. This is a career that just a few years ago, I was about as happy as I'd ever imagined I could be with a job.

Yet, I was done. Ready to quit. 

Because if I didn't quit, quite frankly, I was afraid of where I would end up. 

Things had to change.

I was coming to school every morning with a sense of dread, waking up in the middle of the night to try to fight off panic attacks, coming home exhausted and defeated after almost every single day – it was a battle I was losing. 

From what I saw, read, and heard, I wasn't alone. Not even close. 

I was watching a flood of teachers talk online about how they were leaving the profession. In trainings, I cried with a participant in a breakout room who couldn't identify a single win from the year and felt the same defeat I was trying to cover up. I've teared up multiple times in trainings just trying to say thank you to the participants because in that thank you I just want to acknowledge all the burdens they are carrying and not getting any help with. 

This whole post isn't going to be doom and gloom, but we can't toxic positivity our way out of this situation by ignoring what's going on and sharing empty platitudes. We have to acknowledge that there is a real and powerful sense of despair and dread making its way through what feels like the entire teaching profession. We have to name the feeling and identify the root causes of it. The unknown is undefeatable. The unspoken is all-powerful. 

The hard part for me was simply that I couldn't exactly pinpoint the root cause of it. My brain doesn't do well without being able to identify the problem, so I spent a lot of time trying to really nail down what is creating this environment for teachers. 

Here are a few that we need to name: 

Note: If you don't need more doom and gloom, feel free to skip this section. Down below is where I talk about what's helping me. 

For some, our purpose for teaching is getting harder and harder to see. Now, this gets heavy really quickly, but it's something we need to name. Many of us get into teaching because we believe in a brighter tomorrow. After the past 18 months with a global pandemic, a divided society, and increasingly chaotic climate events (to name a few) – many of us are questioning how in the world a brighter tomorrow is going to happen. We are questioning if our purpose for this work still exists. I almost didn't put this in here because of how deep and dark that seems, but to ignore the reality of this means we will never be able to move past it or work around it. We have to name it first. 

Our tolerance for disruptive behaviors has decreased, but we have a sense that those behaviors have increased. This point isn't to blame the kids. They just spent a year not confined to the rules, routines, and expectations of a school, and being forced back into those routines isn't easy. Nonetheless, this doesn't downplay the reality that these behaviors often are a source of stress for teachers and can make us feel less effective in the classroom. After a bunch of time not really having to deal with these behaviors that we can all pretty much assume will happen when you cram 30 developing social beings in a room together for an extended period of time, our tolerance for them has gone down. What used to feel normal is something we're now seeing as unnecessary, and for many there is a perception that these behaviors have increased in frequency and severity, exacerbating the problem. 

We were promised something different, but we're just getting more of (and doubling down on) the same. I think pretty much every teacher, even the most jaded and hardened ones, hold onto a hope that our school system can change. Many of us, over the course of these past 18 months, were promised that we were going to come back with all these new skills and a new understanding of what school could be, and we were going to combine the best of both worlds to build something better. Yet, by and large, that didn't happen. In fact, in many places, it feels like we've doubled down on some of the worst things we do in schools by justifying them as trying to address learning loss, getting the students back into routines, or simply trying to force kids to return to school. We didn't get what we were promised. Not by a long shot. (Part of this is due to the fact that we are STILL in a pandemic, but the never-ending push to return to normal in the midst of this pandemic makes it even worse.)

The pressure around the need for differentiation is stronger than ever, but there has been next to no support or restructuring to make it manageable. Kids have never entered our rooms with all the skills they are "supposed" to have. Our pacing guides have never met the needs of kids. That reality hasn't changed, but what has changed is that it seems like everyone now is screaming about the need to differentiation content and meet kids where they're at without actually providing support or restructuring the system to help make this manageable. The pressure to meet the needs of kids has skyrocketed, but we still have giant classrooms, no time, and no or very few meaningful resources to do it. 

The sub shortage. I saved this one for last because it's the most obvious. Planning time is one of the most valuable things we have to manage our workload and stress, and yet this year it seems like almost daily that we are being asked to give that up to cover a class. The worst part is that then it makes teachers feel like they can't take a day off (during one of the most taxing, stressful years) because they don't want to do that to their colleagues. It means we can't take planning days with our team to try to adjust our instruction for what our kids need together. It means we can't pursue professional learning opportunities. It means that we feel like we have no option but to head to the job that feels like it's draining so much from us every single day. 

I'm sure there are a million other things people can add to that, but for me personally, those were the feelings and realities I needed to identify if I was going to get out of the vicious cycle I felt trapped in. 

So, here's what I'll admit before moving on. I'm not fully out of it yet. It's not sunshine and rainbows for me every day of the week. Hell, it feels like I'm happy if the sun peaks out from behind the clouds half of my days most weeks now. 

But I'm getting there. 

I've stopped searching for other jobs. I daydream slightly less about what it would be like to get out of education. I haven't cried or found myself so overwhelmed that I can hardly function in a few weeks now. 

I'm not going to pretend to have the answers. For some of what's going on, I don't know if there are answers. What I will tell you below is simply what I've had to do to give myself some breathing room, to reorient myself around what really matters, and to let go of what I can't control. 

I'm still frustrated with the system. If you've read anything I've ever shared, I think you know that I will never not be frustrated with the system. 

But what I can honestly say is that I'm not so frustrated with teaching that I can't have the life I want to have outside of the classroom. That alone has made all the difference for me.

Here's what I've changed and what you might want to try, too:

Just Say, "Fuck It." Like, I genuinely and truly mean that. You aren't going to be perfect. Your lessons aren't going to be perfect. Being perfect won't make this situation better. In fact, trying to be perfect is going to make it a whole lot worse. In therapy a while ago, I was told that I needed to buy a motorcycle and ride from as far north as possible in North America to as far south as possible in South America. I honestly still don't know if he was joking or not, but what I always come back to is that sometimes you just have to say, "Fuck it," let go, and trust that it will be okay. At least half of each class on Friday is basically an asynchronous period now. Kids use that time to finish assessments, watch videos, or frankly, sometimes just screw around and not get any learning done. Guess what? That's okay. You know why? Because we're still in the middle of a freaking pandemic, and we have to start acting like none of this is normal. You know why else it's okay? Because I get to just talk to my kids and remember why I do what I do without the pressure of feeling like I have to convince them to do something. You know why you should feel okay about this? Because there's a teacher shortage and nobody's going to fire their most precious and limited resource right now. Breathe. Let go. We have to let go of the teacher we wish we could be if we're going to make it through right now.

Give Yourself One Late Work Day. I know some people are going to be pissed at this because "We ShOuLd NeVeR wOrK oUtSiDe CoNtRaCt HoUrS!" Okay, great, then you do that if it works for you. Want to know what that does for me? Make me feel stressed and anxious the rest of the week because school time is frankly the absolute worst time for me to be productive. Yes, I can get some stuff done during my planning, but usually I don't get to invest in things I'm passionate about then because I'm just trying to get things done before the next class comes in. If you can do everything during contract hours and still enjoy what you're doing, go for it. Don't make the rest of us feel guilty, though. However, we also can't work late every night. We need time away from work to do what truly makes us happy. This idea was a suggestion my wife gave me, and it's working beautifully for me. If you can and need to, give yourself a late work day – a day where you stay as long as you want or need to get ready for the week, caught up on assessments and feedback, planning a fun lesson, etc. That's Monday for me. I stayed until 7:30 last week, and guess what...I had the least stressful week I've had all year after that. When we stretch the stress out, we can't escape it. 

Plan Tuesday to Monday Instead of Monday to Friday. This isn't my own idea. I stole it from the incredible Nicholas Emmanuele. The Sunday Scaries always suck, but this year it was a lot more than that. I was overwhelmed every single Sunday. Not just that, but sometimes in my attempt to compensate for everything feeling so out of control and overwhelming, I would use some of Saturday to prep for the week, too. For of all, I had to go back to suggestion #1 above, but second, I learned not to make Sunday my stressful day. When I was planning Monday to Friday, I was setting myself up for a stressful weekend. Simply shifting my planning so that I planned as if my week went from Tuesday to the next Monday, I shifted the day that I felt stressed. No, my stress isn't gone, but it doesn't invade my weekend anymore. I get to do the things I love that I so desperately need to be doing right now like spending time with my wife, getting outside, and playing with my dogs. It has honestly made such a big difference for me. 

Get Off Social Media (Or At Least Re-evaluate How You Use It). When I was seeing teachers leaving teaching all the time on Twitter, that's all I could think about. When I opened Facebook (I honestly don't know why I ever went to Facebook), all I was reminded of was my despair for the future of our nation. I think we need to name that our brains aren't supposed to handle seeing the stories of an entire world laid out in front of us every single moment. I was letting social media dictate what I was thinking and feeling. I was in a reactionary state. I say this fully acknowledging that there are things I love about Twitter – the incredible people I get to connect with and the incredible ideas that I get from them – but the negative effects were beginning to outweigh the positive, and I needed to step away. I've been so much happier since, not because I'm living in denial, but because now I'm no longer constantly reminded of what I know to be true. Instead, I'm doing things I love with that time. I'm outside in a hammock reading, I'm going for a walk at the park with my wife and dogs, or I'm out building something that helps me focus on my creativity and passion. We don't have to ignore the reality, but we also can't have the energy to confront it and fight for it if we're spending all of our time letting it constantly drain our batteries. 

Here's what I know about all four things above: none of them solve the problems we're facing right now. 

Here's what I also know: if we constantly make it our responsibility to solve the problems in education, we won't last through the end of the year. 

That's probably the most jaded thing I've ever said, but what we have to recognize is that constantly being frustrated about what we can't control often diminishes our ability to do the things we actually can control. At least that's what was happening for me. 

Here's the other thing I know: because of what's listed above, I'll be back in my classroom next week, and I honestly don't know if I could have said that a month ago. 

If I leave the classroom, I'll be out of the fight. For those who've done that already, I've lost no love, respect, or admiration for you. You did what you needed, and you deserve applause for that. 

I'm not there yet, and I want to do what I can to keep me from getting there. I know that some who've left the classroom because of this year will continue to fight for the education system both teachers and students deserve, and I hope to have the energy to be there with them - fighting both from the inside and the outside. 

But first, I'm going to teach my kids, I'm going to take care of myself, and I'm going to do what I need to do to create the life I want to live. At least I'm going to try, and there's now light for me to do that where before I only saw darkness. 

Friends, this isn't my lightest post. I don't anticipate many are leaving with a sense of optimism for the future. I wish I could give that to you, but I don't think I'm the right person for that right now. 

What I can do is tell you that you're not alone, that I would give you a giant hug right now if I could, that you aren't the only one who's been in tears this year. 

I don't know where education is heading or what's going to happen to it in the next five years, but what I do know is that if I end up finding out I'm on a sinking ship surrounded by teachers, I'll have given it my best shot surrounded by the best company. 

Hang in there, friends. You aren't alone any year, but especially not this one.