Confessions of a Bad Teacher
Tomorrow, I'm turning in my resignation letter, effective at the end of the semester. According to my evaluation that was held on the first day back from Christmas break, I'm not an effective teacher. I suppose I'm not. I'm a history teacher, first and foremost, and new teahers are expected to spend the majority of their time babysitting...oh, I'm sorry, I mean "working on classroom management." Somehow in the hour a day I get for planning, I'm supposed to make lesson plans for three different preps, one of which is a class with both honors and "regular" students, grade papers, stand in the hallways to give students tardy slips, make copies when usually only one copier out of four is working, meet with my mentor, meet with my department, and answer e-mails and call parents. This is assuming that my planning doesn't get taken away for one of the million things administration has come up with for me to do to fill my endless free time.
In the two years I've been teaching, all the joy has been sucked out of me. I still love history and sharing knowledge, but I hate how I can never take off my job. Even when I'm not being paid, I'm expected to tutor students and run a club for free. I'm expected to attend workshops during my summer off. Oh, you think I'm getting paid during the summer? Only because I have a certain percentage of each paycheck held back to make sure I'm not spending my Julys begging. And yet all of my time is supposed to be dedicated to my job. A job that comes with more and more blame for the teacher and no autonomy on the students' part. I'm expected to make sure each student passes or else. God forbid this year's inflated graduation rate is 1% lower because students couldn't put in the effort.
I am nauseous every morning. Usually I vomit before I get to school. Sometimes I do so while I'm there. I wake up 5 times a night stressing about what the next day is going to bring. I spend my minutes after the final bell rings cleaning up wrappers and paper balls from the helpless, ignorant teenagers I'm supposed to prepare for adulthood. How can I do that without forcing them to take some responsibility?
I love teaching. I plan on going to grad school so that I can teach history to students who at least halfway give a damn. But I refuse to sacrifice my time on students who don't care, my money on supplies that will be broken within days, and my soul to a system that makes me aware every day just how replaceable I am-preferrably by someone who's more of a "team player."
By the middle of June, I'll be done. While I sobbed about the prospect the day I was deemed "ineffective," I welcome it now. I've become one of the 20% of teachers who leave in their first five years, and I think it will be the best decision of my life. Good riddance.
In the two years I've been teaching, all the joy has been sucked out of me. I still love history and sharing knowledge, but I hate how I can never take off my job. Even when I'm not being paid, I'm expected to tutor students and run a club for free. I'm expected to attend workshops during my summer off. Oh, you think I'm getting paid during the summer? Only because I have a certain percentage of each paycheck held back to make sure I'm not spending my Julys begging. And yet all of my time is supposed to be dedicated to my job. A job that comes with more and more blame for the teacher and no autonomy on the students' part. I'm expected to make sure each student passes or else. God forbid this year's inflated graduation rate is 1% lower because students couldn't put in the effort.
I am nauseous every morning. Usually I vomit before I get to school. Sometimes I do so while I'm there. I wake up 5 times a night stressing about what the next day is going to bring. I spend my minutes after the final bell rings cleaning up wrappers and paper balls from the helpless, ignorant teenagers I'm supposed to prepare for adulthood. How can I do that without forcing them to take some responsibility?
I love teaching. I plan on going to grad school so that I can teach history to students who at least halfway give a damn. But I refuse to sacrifice my time on students who don't care, my money on supplies that will be broken within days, and my soul to a system that makes me aware every day just how replaceable I am-preferrably by someone who's more of a "team player."
By the middle of June, I'll be done. While I sobbed about the prospect the day I was deemed "ineffective," I welcome it now. I've become one of the 20% of teachers who leave in their first five years, and I think it will be the best decision of my life. Good riddance.
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