When I first started teaching at the ripe old age of 37, I honestly did so for job security.
I have been at it for 17 years now, 18 if you count subsitute teaching for a year,19 if you count 2020 twice, which I think we should, absolutely. And I've lied to students and parents on many occasions when they ask "Why did you become a teacher?"
There is the impact my own high school theatre teacher had on me,yes.
The impact my high school language arts teacher had on me,yes.
The impact my high school social studies teacher had on me after high school, as I brought him beer at the bar where I worked while doing shows and playing a stay at home mom in life.
Sure. All of that is in the mix, of course.
But when I finally pulled the trigger after subbing for a time, I did it because I liked having a steady gig. I liked a regular paycheck and the health insurance was a nice perk. As an actor, I had to ride on Jim's insurance to keep from going broke just trying to get health insurance. I was fortunate in that aspect, and acknolwedge such with great googley grace.
That it would be hard work never occured to me.
That my procilivity for relentlessly writing my truth would cost me a job was unfathomable.
That I would struggle harder than I ever have in my career, and seriously consider bailing because teaching online all year is just too much was, of course inconceivable. (Yes, I know what that means.).
So much ink and subsequent Bored Teacher videos and memes have exploded to explain our pain.
When this is "over", educators are going to be attacked once again. It will be our fault that students are failing at remote learning. It is always our fault. I saw the writing on the wall when communities attacked their teachers online when it became clear that continuing remote learning was the best public health option. We were called "lazy". In one district, I cruised the thread to read a community member who screamed "If I have to go to work, bitch, so do you"
So many emotions had to be regulated before I could think. Of course, once I cleared my anger deck, I was left with the reality: this angry person thinks we aren't working.
I am not at home, chained to my distirct lap top, pulling every trick I know and calling college prof friends to reinvent my in person theatre content for online learning. Nope. I also am not here when your student logs on. When the kids log on for class, I deliberately do not turn on my comptuer and I just laugh and laugh at the stupid district who is paying me not to work. And eat Bon Bons.
This will only get worse when the SAT and ACT scores come back. Several colleges waived them last spring for the fall of 2020, and if anyone has a brain cell they will do the same this year.
Is your student loved?
Are you doing everything you can in your situation to support and love them?
Are they curious, interested in learning and following through?
Then they are going to be fine.
If your student is not logging on during class, there is nothing I can do.
If your student logs on for class but "ghosts" (no camera, no mike, never responds) there is nothing I can do.
This is not because I am a bad teacher.
This is not because I am not "engaging" or not working twice as hard as I have in the past to reach students.
These choices are on your student. Teachers cannot force education on those who do not care. But that is not going to be openly acknoweledged so, they will blame us.
This revelation, that we are in for another round of abuse in the future, is particularly heart breaking, as so many parents are attempting to teach their kids online. They know how hard it is because they are doing it too.
But feel free to turn on us.
We are used to it.
I signed up for a steady gig. I did not sign up to be attacked by people who do not understand what I do.
Maybe it is time to go.
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