The Absolutely True Confessions of A Fed-Up Teacher

My fake name is Astrid and I am not an honest person. I am a tell-you-what-you-want to hear sort of person. Or even a tell-you-what-I-can-intuit-you-want-without-you-ever-realizing-you-want-it person. Polite people call me gentle. My coworkers often say that I give off “elementary-teacher vibes”, which is, if it is not already clear, not a compliment.

I teach middle schoolers — young humanoids who are, mostly, the opposite of me. Middle schoolers are loaded with an inbuilt authenticity meter, boatload of brutal honesty, and passion for justice that drives me insane. That’s why I love them.

Yesterday at lunch a young man announced to class that he was eating a banana. The hook of his story was that he had not eaten a banana in three years. His dramatic opening was promptly interrupted by another student announcing (just as proudly): “my mom only gives me a banana if I poop first.”

I chided him for TMI. After all, it was lunch time. I must admit I saw something to admire in his unfiltered frankness.

I’ve grown tired of my own polite dishonesty. I’m a teacher working for one of the largest school systems in the United States. I deal with enough bullshit day-to-day without making up my own.

I tell acquaintances that I love teaching, then complain to my close friends about the state of the profession. In the end, I am doing nothing to tease apart my own shortcomings as a teacher from a system that can make success feel impossible. I’d like to move from purposeless complaining to developing a deeper understanding of a system that I suspect, but cannot yet confirm, is broken.

At 25, even with all my educational eggs in the teaching basket, I am tempted to quit. Before I give up a job that I felt destined for, I’d like to be honest with myself and the world about why. After all, maybe I just need to adjust my mindset and it’ll be just peachy.

So I keep teaching, but now I am armed with a pen (errr keyboard) and renewed determination to figure out why this isn’t working.

I have planned a full-on ritualistic reckoning for the end of the school year. It will be akin to the “will they divorce or not” ceremony from my favorite reality TV show, Married at First Sight. I will determine to either activate my Eat, Pray, Love reset or continue teaching. The decision is a weighty one, given that if I do decide to keep teaching, I will be required to attend teacher indoctrination camp in Ohio for the majority of my *cough* unpaid *cough* summer. The camp is known for taking sane persons with semi-normal work-life balance and churning out overachieving teaching creatures who would rather grade than eat and cheer when asked to take on additional responsibilities at school (yes, it truly is as eerie as it sounds, but more on that later).

So here I am, pledging to write about my experience as a public school teacher without filter, political correctness, or excuse. I want a record of the moments that warm my heart on a Tuesday and leave me fuming on a Wednesday. This job is both fulfilling and horrendously frustrating — only an honest reflection could truly pull apart why people do this and why, just as many folks, give it up.

Fake name, 100% true stories. It’s not what anyone would call courageous, but it’s a start.

Welcome to my life.

To follow my journey and join the discussion about public education in America, follow me on Medium and Twitter!