I am a teacher and some days, I weep. Let me just give a brief background about a
sliver of my life. My salary as a teacher has been such that my children are presently
on state insurance and have often qualified for free/reduced lunches. I currently have no health insurance myself
as what I make is just enough to pay the bills and occasionally enjoy a day out
with my children. I live in a home with
no trim around the windows and plywood flooring. When something breaks down, I
have to go out and work a second or third job in order to pay for it. My vehicle is over ten years old, I don’t take
summer vacations and eating a rib eye steak is a luxury.
The idea that most have about teachers only working nine months
and getting summers off; it doesn’t exist in most teachers’ worlds. I don’t
just work forty hours a week. I grade
papers after the kids are in bed and do lesson plans on the weekend. I also spend hours in professional development
or taking more college courses in order to retain my highly qualified position
the government says I must have. Most,
if not all of this comes out of my own pocket with little compensation on the
pay scale. I also work several other jobs within the school, and somehow still
find time to make cupcakes for my kids’ school parties.
I challenge my students every day. I challenge them to strive for something
better even when they are disrespectful, cursing at me, curled up in a ball in
the corner or crying. I listen to
parents tell me their child isn’t at fault, and I should teach differently. I have
worked with administrations which didn’t support their staff and boards of
education who didn’t understand the intricacies of how to run a school. I struggle every year under the ever-changing,
next-best assessment and work hard not to get angry when told I will be given
less resources, but am expected to have more students meet standards. Then I sit quietly, shake my head and ball my
hands into fists when my state says it will revise my retirement plan (as I
shouldn’t need what I put into it) and then not only work against my right to
be in an organization of teachers, but also work to take away my bargaining rights,
my right to strike; basically, my right to stand up for myself and my fellow
teachers.
How sad that the greatest profession in the world, and one most
necessary, is slowly and treacherously being destroyed. How sad that our future, my children’s
future, our country’s future is being dismantled piece by piece. How sad that this country cannot figure out
the basic idea that we educators are the backbone of our nation; we are the
ones who create the next generation of thinkers, problem solvers and
leaders. If you can read this, you’ve
had a great teacher. If you have a degree, it was because teachers helped you
get there. If you are in the legislature working against teachers, maybe you need
to sit down and reminisce about how you got there, by the effort of a dedicated
teacher, I’m sure.
I know some fabulous teachers.
Teachers who give of their time, money, efforts and more, even while
skimping on these very things for their own families. And while this point of view may sound drear,
I love my job. I just often find it
disheartening. I believe it is a noble thing to teach. I believe it is an awesome responsibility;
one I approach daily with prayer. What I have also realized over the years is
this … I am not just a teacher; I am a missionary working on a shoestring
budget, not knowing what tomorrow will bring, and some days, some days, I weep.
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