On the day I put in for my leave of absence, we had one of those “data meetings”. You know the kind, where we discuss our preparations for the upcoming standardized test. One of more than 10 that year. The principal, vice principal, senior team lead (SLT), program coordinator (IB school), and the 4th-grade team were at the meeting. We sat around a small table in a cramped room in the basement previously used to house cleaning supplies.
The projector, propped up on a stack of old Webster Children’s dictionaries, displayed colorful bars and charts. These were carefully designed to tell us that our kids were struggling with their daily assessments. As if we didn’t know from actually working with them every day.
In front of us, a printed copy of the upcoming, district-standardized, “interim” test, – it wasn’t even the end of September. We were asked to analyze our “data” from the other million little assessments we had to perform daily. We had to determine, “What each student needs”, to make sure they would “meet or exceed expectations”.
What do my students need? NOT A DAMN TEST! Some of these kids hadn’t been in school since March of 2020, over 18 months! Some of our first and second-graders had NEVER been to school at all. They were entering a new grade level with NONE of the same experiences and opportunities as past groups. And the experiences they did have during that time? We have not yet seen the full effect Covid has had on our students, at all levels.
The Loss of Family Members
What did these kids need? Well, I knew that one of my students needed a place to live. This precious 9-year-old boy had been living with his grandparents and his little sister not too far from the school. His grandparents were not in great health before the pandemic. Now, things were worse. After fairly regular attendance during the first two weeks, he suddenly wasn’t coming to school at all. It turned out that he had to stay home to watch his little sister because his grandparents had been sick. Determined to be Covid, he had to stay out of school and quarantine for two weeks. Luckily he and his sister were able to stay with other relatives at the time.
When he finally did come back to school, he was so frail looking. He slept in class and often wanted to go to the nurse for a stomach ache. I sat with him to practice his multiplication tables and do the reading about how dolphins communicate. He wasn’t receptive. Difficult student? Ineffective teacher? Or was it that while he was in quarantine his grandmother died his grandfather went into the hospital?
Expecting Students With Trauma To Test
Another student in my class that Fall had been there in K, 1st, and then part of 2nd before Covid shut us down in March of 2020. He was referred to our MTTS (multi-tiered system of support) when in 2nd. This group works to help struggling students with various modalities of interventions based on their needs. He suffered from executive functioning difficulties and scored below grade level in all academic areas. Aggressive behavior was observed often.
He was now coming back to school as a 4th grader after “attending” online classes for 18 months. I put attending in quotes because online learning was not working for him, nor many others, (more on that later). During the pandemic, many of our public school children were not provided the support and failsafe measures inherent inside the school community. Suddenly, he was reentering a world of sitting still, standing quietly in lines, and following strict time schedules.
In the short time that I was with him, I did see some progress in his ability to; sit still, hold a pencil correctly, write his name, and follow directions. He worked with our school psychologist twice a week, which he needed, but it also meant he was missing the instruction he desperately needed. Certainly, all of this was difficult for him and because of that, he would act out.
Trauma At Home
By mid-September, he had been absent for 3 days in a row. I spoke to our school psychologist who had close ties to the family. Subsequently, she informed me that he was absent because his father was in the hospital. He had been beaten by police. Horrifically, the family just found out he would be permanently paralyzed.
What did this student need? I was getting pressure to “accelerate their learning”, to “teach him where he needs to be, not where he currently is. To “provide better support, interventions, and differentiation.” Did he need to master double-digit multiplication? Indeed, did he need to write a five-paragraph essay explaining why he thinks the zebra story had more examples of imagery than the tiger poem?
Silent Cries
Some students were very quiet about their pain. One afternoon as we settled for the next lesson, the classroom phone shrilled at my desk. I usually had students answer, but for some reason, I did this time. As I looked up from the phone to watch the kids, they were waiting patiently. I smiled at them and winked and probably made a few silly faces. On the other end of the phone was the school nurse. She asked if I had eyes on a particular student and I replied yes. Then she explained that this particular little girl had drawn a disturbing picture in art class, of a tombstone with her name on it. Therefore, they were putting her on suicide watch. I was to monitor her every movement until they could find the time to do a suicide screening and call the parents.
She was nine years old.
To not worry the students, I looked up and smiled again at the kids while my heart was breaking into a thousand pieces. I hung up and calmly started my lesson on pronking antelopes, feeling the whole time like I was going to throw up.
Standing Up To Get Shut Down
All of this to say, that on the day I told her I was going on medical leave, I had stopped this data meeting to ask about the social-emotional needs of our kids, I had them on my mind and in my heart. “How is this 4-day, 8-hour assessment, which they were not ready for, could be what was best for them?!”
The students were academically, and more importantly emotionally, not prepared.”We will move slowly,” you said. “The social-emotional needs of our students, families, and staff are paramount,” you said. We even dedicated hours of professional development time to learn an entirely new social-emotional curriculum that Fall. I argued that many of our students were really struggling with being back at school. The principal looked me right in the eye and said, “Diane, you can’t teach children where they are, you have to teach them where you want them to be.” Wait, what? I couldn’t even speak. It had to sink in for a moment.
Looking around at the other teachers and leaders sitting uncomfortably at the table completely silent; I was dumbfounded. Finally, I uttered something like, “Well, that goes against everything I’ve ever believed as a teacher, or ever learned. In fact, some of our kids are already struggling to keep up with their daily routines!” I continued, “One argument might be that the stress and feelings of failure will inevitably cause many of these kids to shut down and act out even further.”
That’s when I was told it was just better for me to be a team player.
I’d love to hear from you! Please share your stories or comment on something that resonates with you. If you’re considering a career in teaching, I’d love to know your hopes, dreams, and concerns. You can leave a comment or email me directly at [email protected].
Diane you are SO brave for standing up for your students/peers while in service and even more so for continuing to share your story now. I was saddened to hear you had left teaching, but I also immediately understood why (anyone in the classroom would.) It really made me pause and reflect on the MANY times I have considered leaving. I will say I have worked in 6 schools in my 17 year career and everything you say is as valid today as it was in year one. My first job I travelled between two schools and didn’t have a planning period 3 days a week teaching 9 classes in a day with a break only for lunch. When I asked my union rep about it she said “you have extra time for travel on Thursday and that’s just the way we have always made it work.” I later had a principal who had me teaching 3/6 preps outside of my area of certification tell me “working here is not for everyone” when I asked when they were going to hire someone to fill that position (something they told me would happen after I saw my first schedule there.)
Unfortunately, these are only some of the most mild disenchanting encounters I have had. You know that the personal stories of demeaning or dehumanizing encounters are endless for most of us. Add on to that the horror of student traumas we wish we could unlearn. As the kids like to say “It’s A LOT.”
I am forever grateful that we all also have the stories of triumph and perseverance. The memories of hugs given, laughter shared and triumphs as our students (with OUR help) overcame every day hurdles or unspeakable odds in academics, behavior, or life. The sunshine moments as I like to call them. The folks involved in the bureaucracy luckily cannot take those away.
I personally am not sure anymore how any of us can change the narrative, though I do hope that someone smart like you figures out how to fix this crumpled system. But more than that… I hope your heart begins to heal and your joy for life returns full force. You’ve given SO much to SO many and deserve every happiness. While this may not be the step away from education you envisioned I hope you are someday able to wildly celebrate the achievements and lasting impact you have left. We are such a humble breed most of us.. we rarely pause to truly take that in. Where ever your path of healing takes you next I hope you are able to arrive there with the dreamy exuberance of a first year, the sage calm of the seasoned veteran of teaching/life that you are, and your ever radiant smile. Keep WRITING! 📝💛
I love your posts!
Diane, thanks for sharing your story. I am so sorry your teaching career had to end this way. But I know you, a beautiful loving soul with a passion for people and life. You will find a joyful path for your life because you just naturally bring joy to people and that joy will naturally come back to you. I hate that I have to sadly agree with you on the state of America’s educational system. I am the mother of veteran teachers and their pain and struggles as educators worries me for their health and all of the students out there.
Thank you for your thoughtful and articulate response. You make some great points. We ARE teachers. I’d love to chat if you’d like to. You can find me on FB and msg. me or email me directly. Thank you!
This post, and in particular the phrase, “Diane, you can’t teach children where they are, you have to teach them where you want them to be” remind me of a scene from Handmaid’s Tale. The scene shows a partial reaction to the lead character helping smuggle the stories of hundreds of Handmaids out of Gilliad and into Canada. As people hear the names, stories, and lived experience of each person one after the other, they are finally awakened to the true horror and scope of the situation. They wake up to the reality that it isn’t the story of a scattered few treated unfairly, it is the norm. It is everywhere. It is horrific.
Similar to Atwood’s dystopian world, our society HAS been overwhelmed with stories from the inside. Teachers in both K-12 and higher education have pleaded with family, neighbors and the general public to wake up to the horrific state of our educational system. Voices just like yours, telling the world about the injustices, the incompetence, the heart-wrenching consequences on the next generation and the horrific degradation of teachers mental health and emotional well-being. Unfortunately, unlike the characters in Atwood’s novel, our stories have been heard, yet the general public does not care enough to burn the system down, or worse, simply refuses to believe the educators lived experiences. Teachers’ expertise and knowledge are trivialized away with justifications of ‘just quit’ or ‘anybody can teach’ or ‘ well I was in school once , so I’m just as much an expert on xyz’….yeah, about that….
“Just quit.” Two words. A simple phrase, yet one which dehumanizes educators on a regular basis. I’ve often found words insufficient to accurately describe to loved ones why that phrase hurts so much. Perhaps it is because for many in the education field, teaching is not simply a profession. Teaching is a character trait. Deeply engrained within one’s soul, often intertwined with empathy for others, compassion and humanitarian outreach. Teaching isn’t something we do. Teaching is a part of us. Telling me to “just quit” indicates a failure to understand the complexity of the situation, mainly that as a teacher, I have rarely, if ever, put myself first. Sure there are personal reasons why I cannot yet, “just quit” – (primarily the unfortunate health insurance debacle in the US), but 98% of the reasons have names. If I quit, what happens to Tim? Will he fall through the cracks like he did at his last school? What about Juanita? She has been making great progress since her life was upended last year with the death of her parents. Will this devastate her? Will she recover? The names and the stories are endless and the passion we as educators have to help extends to not just those with names, but to those we don’t yet know – continually striving to remove inequities and injustices. So dear reader, you see, I could never…’just quit’.
I write the above paragraph with deep empathy and understanding for the heartbreak, fear, panic and emotions you experienced throughout your process. I have no answers, no reassuring anecdotes or words of advice. I grieve silently with you during this time and hope that (in time) this last year can be seen not as the loss of a piece of your old self, but a reinvention and metamorphosis into something new that leads to experiences which allow you to share your passion for teaching, helping, caring and changing the world.