Let it be known: I started writing this post a couple of weeks ago and had optimistically titled it “Writing Conferences: Worth the time!” That was back when I had energy for exclamation points.
Anyway, I can’t fully blame the writing conferences (and, if I’m going to be honest, they were worth the time), but it seemed to begin a downward spiral of rapidly building up papers to grade, day-to-day frantic planning, and a plethora of other little tasks and duties that had to be fulfilled, which culminated in a little bit of an emotional breakdown last night (picture me, in the kitchen, sobbing to my husband: “I just wanted to make homemade applesauce, so I didn’t stay at school and–whimper–grade more papers because I….wanted to come home and make applesauce! And I feel so–sob–guilty…”
Sound crazy? Yeah, he thought so, too. Ultimately, though, this is not about applesauce (clearly). It is about the emotional toll that the past couple of weeks have taken on me. I find myself often trying to do things that the rigid structure and standard schedule of our school simply do not allow for, and, boy, is it exhausting. If I want to meet with every kid about his/her writing, I have to do it during every prep period, lunch, and before school/after school time that I have. For 50 students, that takes nearly a week. That’s a week of having no time during the school day (or for the half hour or so before or after the school day) to do anything other than meet with students. As I said, I’ve found it so productive and valuable that I’m willing to make that sacrifice, but with the influx of papers that I collected at the same time, it ended up creating this black hole of grading hell that I’m still pulling myself out of.
I don’t even think that that is entirely what had me feeling so overwhelmed last night, but it is a good indication of how much stress I put upon myself. It’s not as though I’m required to do writing conferences. This is certainly something I need to work on–the guilt factor–because it personalizes my job way too much and, well, makes me cry. I worry that I’m a terrible teacher and I worry that I’m spinning my wheels and not accomplishing anything. I worry, worry, worry, but that I can get under control. I’ve had to tackle it a few times every year that I’ve taught.
But then there is the stuff outside of myself, that I can’t control. The increasing number of mandates and new policies, etc. that are coming down from the administration without faculty input, the frequent IEP meetings, the parents, guidance counselors, and special education case managers, among others, who want to know how so-and-so is doing, the cover-my-ass responsibilities, like letting parents know when a kid doesn’t turn in an assignment, and every teacher’s favorite fall activity, letters of recommendation for college applications! And, related to my above dilemma about writing conferences, the feeling that I am toiling away in a completely messed up system that is, in fact, counterproductive to learning and engagement and inquiry and all the things they want us to do. The feeling that the whole thing needs to be dismantled and put back together in new patterns and forms and structures. And the bitter disappointment that that will never happen.
This post has very little focus and you may have stopped reading back at “sound crazy?”, thinking, “um, yes,” but I wanted to get something posted, and a sort of emotional complaint about how hard teaching is, while unoriginal at best, seemed better than nothing.
I’ll end with a quick list of five good things that have happened over the past couple of weeks, mostly to remind myself why the heck I do this, but also to reward my loyal reader with a little positivity:
1. The “speed dating” activity I did with my sophomores for Reading Workshop today. So much fun.
2. Last night, half a dozen gay or lesbian teachers at my school participated in a panel discussion in front of nearly 200 students, staff, and parents about coming out as part of the “It Gets Better Project“. Wow.
3. The students that I advise in Amnesty International ran a successful campaign demanding a fair trial for Omar Khadr. They had students put their handprints on large sheets, then sent the sheets to the appropriate State Department officials.
4. I watched several students who have traditionally been disengaged from the writing process not only work really hard to write successful short stories in Creative Writing, but read excerpts to the class while sitting up straight and speaking with pride.
5. I made some applesauce, and it’s damn good.
