This is what a TEACHER looks like
There is a pink pin attached to my jewelry tree at home that reads “This is what a FEMINIST looks like.” In college there was a day where almost everyone on campus wore these buttons. The point of this day was that feminists came in all different shapes, sizes, and opinions. The outspoken in any group are usually the ones whose stories get told because they are brave enough to share them. In education, this adage holds true. Teachers are busy. Many keep their heads down and their eyes on the work of shaping the minds and hearts of the students in their class. They don’t have the energy to reach out, even when their work is criticized.
Teachers, like feminists and any other group of people, come in many forms. There is no way to assert that “every teacher is…” anything. There is nothing that every teacher is, but this is who I am.
I am a 4th grade teacher at a prestigious charter school in California. I am fortunate to be teaching at a school where teachers’ ideas are valued. I am viewed as an intelligent team member and asked to work hard to make best practices a reality for the students in my class.
The parents of the kids in my class have always shown me respect and gratitude. I have found that if you show parents how much you care about their children and you always understand that they are coming from that same place, it is possible to reach a common ground. The only issues I have every had have been a result of miscommunication or misunderstanding. Parents appreciate care and respect, just like everyone else. Emailing a parent with a concern and a proposed solution is always better than being too afraid to tell them anything at all. I have learned that more communication is always better than less.
The best part of teaching is the kids. The day when I think I know all I need to about teaching kids is the day I will quit. They are never boring. They are sweet, smart, annoying, clever, quiet, fair, cruel, loving, sarcastic, and optimistic paradoxes. They make jokes during instruction and then help a 1st grader who is crying on the playground. They have so much empathy and so little tact. I am always laughing, always shaking my head, and always learning from them.
The hardest part for me is always the remembering. Teachers’ memories have to be organized and prioritized in such a way that they do everything they’re supposed to do, when they’re supposed to do it. This weekend I will need to write five reading lessons and five writing lessons because I advocated for my team to use a new curriculum this year. This week I have to remember to send home field trip permission slips for next week’s field trip, that Michael’s birthday is on Thursday and he gets a homework pass, that I have a meeting with Akil’s mom on Tuesday morning, and that Sabrina is coming in early on Wednesday to work on her math with me. Today, I need to remember to remind Christopher that he has to meet with the school counselor at 1:15, that Abby is going home early because of a dentist appointment and needs to take her homework with her, and that Ella has to go meet with the speech therapist at 9am. These things are all separate from grading homework, managing behavior, solving conflicts, and teaching lessons in reading, writing, math, social studies, and science. And yes, I have them all written down, but I can’t just look at my planner all the time, I have to remember. And I do. But it’s hard… and sometimes it makes my head spin.
I am what a teacher looks like. I am passionate. I am caring. I am tired. I make mistakes, but I am trying, hard. My brain is in perpetual motion. I love my class and sometimes I’m horrified by them, too. I respect the system as much as I am a rebel within it. This is not every teacher’s story, but it is mine, and I love it.
