As we listen to the last strains of the cicadas and linger under the stars for one last chapter in a good book before the sun sets just a little earlier than it did yesterday, we know it’s coming. The advertisements have begun in earnest, some of them are so good; I love that woman in Target who fairly dances up the aisles with her down-at-the-mouth kids in tow, popping school supplies into the cart, singing that silly Christmas song. We sing along and feel that familiar sense of excitement mixed with relief at the thought of our darlings jumping onto the old yellow bus once again, to spend their days in the care of others. But what of the others? The teachers; who have in some cases just graduated from college or have been in the business of education for a decade or so, what of the administrators who hope that they made judicious choices about cutbacks and changes? What of the guidance counselors who know that they will face a year of sadness and despair as well as a mound of applications to colleges for which they know some students are ill suited.
Just as students and their parents worry about what to wear and how best to fit in, should they pack a lunch, will they get the course they need, will there be new friends or will the same rotten kids that hurt them last year be back for more, so do teachers have a certain level of anxiety. How many conversations and letters home to parents who really have more to worry about than whether or not Jonny can read, how many conferences to be had when Jonny is acting out at school by hitting or verbal bullying. How many awkward conversations with helicopter parents who think they know why their child is failing and it’s all the fault of the school. We ask a great deal of teachers; they must adhere to strict state and local guidelines and expectations, as well as meet the criteria that the PTO has in mind. They have chosen a profession that allows the general public, their client, so to speak, to have a great deal of say about what they do. Comments are made, such as, teachers only work half the year or they make too much money and their health and retirement benefits are putting us in a statewide poor house. The pressure to do more with less is a thread that runs through the fabric of all economies, not for profit, small business and government alike, are all battling for the same tax dollar or relief therefrom.
We’re headed up to the teacher supply store next week so that our daughter who makes less than you do, can borrow a couple hundred bucks from her dad and I to outfit her early childhood classroom for the kids she teaches. Next, we’ll send some cash down south to the one who drives the 16 year old Honda in order to keep it on the road a few more years, because by the time she pays her rent and school loans, on top of her living expenses, there’s nothing left to even think about buying a replacement car, new or used. She teaches third grade. The one who is an art teacher worries every single year along with the music teachers whether or not there will even be an art or music program left to teach. All three of them get up early, commute, arrive an hour or more before their students do, then teach, to the very best of their abilities, until their students leave. They remain to plan for the next day, to meet with administrators, to negotiate with a parent or coach another child. When they get home they grade papers, plan some more then drop into bed exhausted and happy. We never call after nine at night, we know they are sleeping. We know many of their students might be up until the wee hours watching television or playing magical games online and conversing with their thumbs. They are not all shiny and sparkly and well fed and properly prepared for class in the morning. To teach is to love something so much greater than yourself, to sacrifice and to give, to continue to learn and grow for years, all for the benefit of someone else’s child. My son in law, also a teacher said it best to me a few years back, after a grueling year teaching little ones whose parents don’t speak English and whose culture didn’t understand why in America they were being asked to bring in paper towels and clothes pins for a science project. He said he needs to be the kind of teacher he wants his children to have.
I often wonder why three of my five children chose teaching as a profession. They were all good students in a small public school in a small community; they excelled at different things, two were jocks, one was a bit of a nerd, they were musicians and artists and one was extremely talented at being social. Yet they must have seen something that inspired them to want to be just like one or more teachers in their lives, they must have been gifted with the right spoken word of encouragement at the right time, or the right kind of mentoring that only a dedicated teacher can give, because he or she notices. To all the teachers who are nervous and excited about the coming school year, good luck to you, you’re gonna need it.
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