It's officially been six months since I decided to leave teaching, four months since I've left the classroom, and a month since a new school year started. So, I've had plenty of time to process my decision and a little time to live my new normal.
My plan last year was to not teach full time but still be involved in my old school by substitute teaching. It's really difficult to get qualified subs, especially ones who are willing to work on Fridays. As a licensed teacher who was familiar with the school and county, it would have been a benefit to the school to have me sub. It was a win-win: the school would get a qualified sub, and I would get to be around students and coworkers. Oh, and do you know who's negatively affected when there's a shortage of subs? The students, for one. And the teachers, who are required to give up their planning period to cover others' classes. So, having subs is crucial to everyone's success and sanity.
When I say I am highly qualified to be a substitute teacher, I'm not exaggerating. In order to sub, one must have two years of college. That's basically it. I have my master's in education, my teaching license, seven years of experience, nominations as my school's teacher of the year (and the t-shirt to prove it), three file folders full of letters and cards from former students, and several other teaching accolades and awards. So, like, I wasn't there to just collect a paycheck or let kids play on their phones all class. I LOVED teaching and the kids.
Y'all... there are substitute teachers out there who don't even show up for jobs, who don't follow lesson plans, who cancel at the last minute, who curse at students, and worse. So... yes, I really would've been an asset to the school.
Well, subbing didn't work out, and not because I didn't want it to.
At first, I was livid. I was hurt. I was in disbelief.
But when you choose to write blog posts about some of the issues with the education system, including at the school level, there are consequences, and this turned out to be one of the consequences.
So, I did what I always do when I'm having a hard time processing: I prayed. God, I do NOT get it. I listened to You when You told me to leave teaching. I felt like You were prompting me to speak out about the truth of my experience...Why am I being punished for speaking being bold and brave?
And I didn't get a clear answer for a while.
I avoided school events, despite former students asking me to attend, because I knew I was not welcome and that my presence might cause awkwardness. And, honestly, because I'm not used to not being held in high regards by places of employment or former places of employment. I'm a hardworking and competent employee.
But I learned that there is more to doing a job than just being qualified or having satisfactory and exemplary job performance (as all my formal written reviews, observations, and feedback demonstrated)-- there are others' personal feelings to take into account. That's still a bit of a hard pill for me to swallow.
So, this has been a slow processing journey. It's been somewhat daunting thinking about cutting my ties with my former school and even with teaching altogether. As I have always said, I love the school and the people there and teaching in general.
But being bold is worth it.
Doing the right thing is worth it.
Modeling that for my daughter is worth it.
When I was in the classroom, I didn't speak out or pushed back for fear of retaliation. I tried to ask questions anonymously or by submitting them to our teacher's advisory committee or faculty council. I tried to fly under the radar (unsuccessfully).
This is why I think schools need to create ways for teachers to feel free to share concerns or constructive criticism. Here are just three idea I have, and teacher friends, I'll bet you have more:
1) When a teacher leaves, conduct an exit interview not with the building principal. I actually was never given an exit interview. At all. I followed up and was told I should have received a link with questions to answer. I don't remember receiving such a link, so I asked for it to be sent to me again, and I am still waiting (a month later) for a response to that request.
2) Administer an anonymous staff survey, per the VDOE guidelines, page 28, about principal performance. This survey should not result in additional professional development for teachers, passive-aggressive comments towards teachers, or any other negative consequences for teachers. As a teacher, I was required to give a survey to my students every year and analyze the data and set goals for myself. Therefore, it seems logical to me that administrators should lead by example. And why stop there? What about central office personnel or school board members administering surveys to parents, teachers, students, and community members? Making a Google Form or Survey Monkey is super easy.
3) Give teachers a safe way to ask questions and inform them of the appropriate channels of communication should their first attempt at asking a question not be effective. Having served on the faculty council at my school for two years, I can tell you that we attempted to solve numerous problems, but I was sometimes unsure of how to move up the chain of command if a problem wasn't solved by the people on my campus. This is basically a nice way of saying that, to be honest, sometimes our valid concerns were flat out ignored, and we weren't always sure who to go to next.
I was scared-- terrified, even-- to make waves for a few reasons:
1) I have an unhealthy relationship with authority.
2) My incessant need to be respected and liked.
3) My fear of losing my job and not being able to get another one in teaching ever again.
4) My fear of being treated poorly by those who disagreed with me.
5) My fear of losing relationships with my colleagues and bosses.
As I've been ruminating on this entire situation, I've thought to myself, What would I want my daughter to do? Would I want her to cave out of fear of others? Would I want her to be silent when she saw things that could be improved, when she witnessed verbal abuse and blatant disrespect, when she saw protocols not being followed? Or would I want her to have the courage to stand up for what she believed was right?
The answer is easy, even if the act of doing it is hard.
If I want her to speak out, I have to model that. It's one thing to say, "Speak up! Speak out!" It's another to actually do it.
Y'all, if I'm being honest, I wish I'd had the courage to speak up when I was still teaching. I wish I hadn't cared so much about not making waves-- someone's got to drop the first pebble in the pond.
There would have been ramifications, for sure. But I wish I'd had more courage, more fortitude, and a more healthy outlook on my job and my own self-worth. I wish I'd known what channels to go through to be heard and to induce potential change. I regret not doing more. Because if every single teacher spoke out about the things we witnessed, change would have to happen. All of us couldn't be ignored. We've seen this play out across the country in teacher strikes and walkouts and marches. But many of us are afraid to speak up, and rightfully so.
Not being allowed/able/welcome to sub at my old school has turned out to be a huge blessing, although it took me a while to see it that way. I'm teaching a homeschool co-op class where I get to use my reading specialist degree and expertise more than I did in the classroom. I now have set days where I can work solely on magazine interviews, phone calls, and writing. I'm more relaxed because I'm not preoccupied with school stress.
Tonight I attended a school event and had a fabulous time reconnecting with old coworkers and students. After next year, I won't know any kids at my former school, anyway, so it'll truly be time for me to move on. But I realized tonight that I'm not going to let fear of someone else's reaction to my presence rob me of the opportunity to see people that I care about or to attend something I enjoy.
And there is GREAT freedom in that, in realizing I am not responsible for others' feelings. There is great freedom in knowing that my intentions in speaking out about the toxic environment of teaching were and still are pure-- not to slander, not to tear down, but to start conversations so that there can be improvements for the sakes of our teachers and students. If someone else can't see that, that is not my issue. I need to stop worrying about their reactions and their feelings.
So, I write to you tonight free, happy, at peace, and thrilled to spend tomorrow not in a classroom but at music class and then the swimming pool with my tiny human.
