On Teaching: Why It's So Hard and So Hard To Quit

I was talking to a retired teacher at Christian Women's Job Corp tonight, and one of the things she said was that, the way it used to be, teachers would often teach well past retirement because the kids were good and teaching was fun and they loved doing it. It's just not like that anymore, she said.


And, boy, is she ever right. It's not like that anymore.


When you're a young hopeful prospective teacher, you hear older or retired teachers make statements like that and pity them a little or tsk-tsk them internally and think that they wouldn't think such things if they were younger and more idealistic and hip and cool like you are. At least, that was how I was when I was a young and hopeful prospective teacher.


Now I'm a young teacher with nearly three years experience and my countdown is not only 12 days until school's out but also 192 days (pending negotiations with myself and my husband) until I start the next phase of my life.


"It seems like most teachers don't make it to five years anymore," I told the retired teacher who fulfilled her entire 30-year career, and she nodded she's noticed that, too. "Next year will be my fourth year, and I don't know if I'll make it to five. And most of my young teacher friends are right there with me."


Why It's So Hard


* Nothing is ever finished. The to-do list is never completely checked. Even in the summer, there is next year, and even after this year, there are infinite changes to make so next year can be better. If grades are caught up, there are parents to call. If classroom management is good, lessons need to be more challenging. There is always something to improve. As I write that, it strikes me that these things shouldn't be a bother; that's just life and part of learning and growing. I think what makes it hard, though, is that there is no clocking out and no real break from it. Asleep and dreaming, in the shower, at dinner with people who don't want to hear you theorize about school-- it doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing, there's always something that you're rolling around in your head and trying to fix. 
* It's your identity. Another reason the never finished thing is so oppressive is because it is so personal. You feel every advancement as a teacher is a personal responsibility to other people and to society. It's not like not finishing an assignment in college and dealing with the individual consequence because the consequence now is letting down students, other human beings that you've committed to be as good as you possibly can be for, and you're constantly trying to figure out how to do that yet never being perfect at it. Plus, you're not only letting down students, you're letting down the society that these children are going to be the leaders of someday (We are in trouble as things are currently headed, btw.). Not being as good as you want to be as a teacher means not being as helpful to other people and to society as you want to be. It means failing at something you have made not only your life's vocation but your life's mission. It means failing at being you because when you're a teacher, that title is not just your job but a huge part of how you see yourself and how you make meaning of your place in the world.
* There are so many factors beyond your control. On any given day, the level of success I feel and the worth and value I believe my existence has had in the world rests wholly on how a bunch of twelve-year-olds learned and behaved on a given day. For me, whether I matter in the world is determined by whether the lives and learning of these twelve-year-olds improve... and a lot of times I don't get to see any improvement. And it's impossible to know how much of it is because I haven't done enough or the right thing and how much of it is because they're twelve, because their parents never read to them, because at home they're the closest thing to an adult in the house, because they watch too much TV, because they had lousy teachers in prior years, because they just don't care (which is caused by a multitude of factors beyond their and your control!), because because because....
* You want it to be so good. You want it to be like Stand and Deliver and Freedom Writers and Dead Poets' Society. And you know it's not realistic. And you know you can't expect every exchange with a student to be like in the movies. But you want it to. And it's just not that good. Sometimes you get a moment, and it keeps you hanging on... but a movie is less than two hours long and full of those moments. A school day is seven hours long, and most pass without a single Stand and Deliver worthy moment. Most weeks do. So do months sometimes. And the better you want it to be, the higher your standard for what qualifies as a glimmer of a moment of good. And the less frequent they seem.


Why It's So Hard To Quit


The reasons are the same.


* Nothing is ever finished. You know that, and so you just keep thinking that when you check the next box on the to-do list, you'll be closer. One more teaching book to read, one more planning session with another teacher, one more tweak to your lesson or classroom management and you'll be there. You just keep thinking you've got to stick with it because, while you know you'll never be perfect, you keep thinking you might get close enough that it'll at least help some kids.
* It's your identity. You are a teacher. You have wanted to be for years. Teaching is your gift, your degree, your job, and your life. It's how you promised to give back to the world and the teachers who carved the way for you. It's what you've always believed in, and it's who you are.
* There are so many factors beyond your control. Some of these kids haven't gotten a break their whole life. From what their mother consumed while pregnant with them to where they live and from whether anyone ever took the time to teach them to read to how much love and discipline they have in their lives outside of school, the odds are stacked for some kids and against others. I have one little window of opportunity to try to be a buffer against all the risk factors and an inspiration to go even further for the ones with a solid foundation. I want to be a positive factor.
* You want it to be so good. And the people who should teach are the ones who want it to be so good. You don't want to quit because what if that Freedom Writers moment is coming and what if what you're doing is exactly what one student needs and you just can't see it yet? Someone needs to stick around in this crazy system and fight to make it good.




All of that being said, I may be 192 days away from a new beginning, in something with all of the Why It's So Hard To Quit with a little less oppressive amount of Why It's So Hard, or I may teach well beyond retirement... or at least for a while longer.


I don't know. I just know that it's hard. And it's hard to stay positive. 


But I've got to try for the dozen days I have left with this group, for them and for me.