Your child’s teacher’s alarm went off when it was still dark this a.m. She managed to roll out of bed with a stack of papers on her bedside table that she stayed up late to grade. Her bag is packed with a slew of school supplies purchased on her own dime, supplies that her students parents were unable to afford, due to working multiple jobs to meet the bills.
She will lazily press the coffee maker to the ON position and hurriedly get ready to attack the day with her oversized classrooms and overflowing full heart. She will be ready for the a-ha moments and the lightbulbs in her kid’s brains to turn on.
She certainly doesn’t do this job for the money, but rather for the hugs, high fives, and smiles she likely receives. She does it because she cares way beyond the four walls of her too small classroom. Her heart is full and determined to make a gigantic difference in the lives of her little people. She’ll hop in her used car and make her way to school. The streets won’t be littered with cars, as most likely, many are still snug in their beds. She has tunnel vision, as she can’t wait to see the smiling faces of her grateful children and that of their parents at drop off.
She’ll have gone home the night before with her students on her mind, in her heart, and in her dreams. She’ll take notes, in her head, and write forget- me- nots, as reminders of how to be better for each and every unique child she has the pleasure to teach.
She’ll search for her lanyard upon arrival, the keys jingling around her neck, as she makes her way to the classroom. She’ll make copies likely when you are just getting up. She’ll peruse her overflowing inbox and attempt to check all her e-mails, but realize it is overwhelming. She’ll close her ultra used and outdated laptop to complete center set up for the day. She’ll likely check her mailbox for hand outs that must be distributed for the day. She’ll put the stack on top of her desk that is already overflowing with other paperwork that is due.
She’ll cross her fingers that parents will be coming in to support her and her students. It’s just so hard to do it all on her own without the help of teacher aides and parents and other support staff. It’s like a way overloaded glass plate that she constantly tries to remain steady. It’s a never-ending balancing act that keeps getting added to on a daily basis, and yet nothing gets taken off. Just so much to do and so little time. Because this is important and this is important and this is important and this is important. And don’t forget this and this and this and this and this. So hard to remember it all. So hard, but she does it because those kids matter more to her than any amount of stress she’ll endure. She’ll do it for the kids, always for the kids.
There will be a day, each and every quarter, when she’ll make her way to the library for the dreaded day of exposed- to- the- whole- entire- school test results. & those scores will later be in the newspaper, too. She’ll sit amongst her beloved colleagues, her stomach in knots, fingers clenched, knowing what is coming. She’ll see the power point presentation with the bar graphs, the teachers’ names in dark black bold lettering, and she’ll pray over and over that her students made the cut this time, that they did their best, and that she’ll be highest on the bar graph. She’ll realize she’s the lowest on the totem pole and she’ll turn red, drop her head, shame will ensue, and she’ll wonder what else she could have done to have boosted those scores. What did she miss? She’ll question her worth, she’ll feel sick, and she’ll question her effectiveness as a teacher.
Didn’t staying up all hours of the night matter at all? Didn’t the extra test prep course after school make a difference? Didn’t the added research help at all? She’ll be pulled into the principal’s office and she’ll be asked why she couldn’t be more like her colleagues. Why couldn’t her scores be more like so and so’s scores? She’ll be questioned about what went wrong. An improvement plan will be set up to ensure more movement for next time. Gotta do better. Gotta be better. Gotta do better. Gotta be better.
She’ll go home and cry to her spouse. She’ll cry for her students, the unfairness of them being tested in English when their first language is Spanish. She’ll cry because she cares more than she knows how to handle. She’ll push and pull and push and pull and research and take notes and meet with her colleagues and she’ll visit classrooms and take more notes and she’ll try and try and try and she’ll push and push and pull and pull. She’ll work until she can’t anymore. She’ll never stop trying because her kids are worth it all. She will not get paid overtime, but she’ll stay until its dark and arrive when the gate is still locked. She’ll be the first to get there and the last to leave. She’ll do what it takes over and over and over, again. She’ll tell her students that they are not a number, that they are special, that they matter, and that numbers are just numbers. She’ll fight the tears as she tells her students that they are good boys and girls. She’ll reiterate that their worth is not wrapped up in their test scores, zip codes, the clothes they wear, or the last name they bear, but rather in them being their best every day and being kind to their classmates.
It’s kind of like you sign your teacher contract with the understanding that what is listed is all you’re responsible for, but it’s absolute bullshit because you are a God damn saint as a teacher, a miracle worker. You think it will be one way, but then it morphs into something you never ever signed up for. & by then, you make the best of what you have.
She’ll stash breakfast bars in her desk for those that missed breakfast. She’ll have first aid kits in the top drawer of her desk for unexpected ouchies.
She’ll distribute morning work and attempt to take lunch count and maybe remember to take attendance. She’ll stand for the pledge and pray hard for patience during the moment of silence. She’ll pray that the kids will get the lessons taught that day, her carefully planned out engaging lessons that she often spends weekends planning.
Each child thinks differently and has a unique learning style. Her students all require varying adaptations, modifications, and challenges. She’ll spend hours researching best teaching practices and best methodologies. She’ll attend professional development courses, take night classes, and read all the teacher books. She’ll call and meet with her team and work, collaboratively, on how to best teach the endless state standards. She’ll add technology and think of best ways to engage her kids to think at a higher level and what questions to ask them to get them to think.
She’ll pray that today is the day they will grasp the concepts. But, more so, she’ll hope that her children will be a friend to the new kid, be kind to the autistic child, smile at the lonely, and befriend the left out. She might get misty eyed thinking of all the energy it will take to muster up the courage to be the best of the best all day, today, to be animated and playful and nice and fun and yet, firm, fair, and friendly all at the same time for each and every student. It’s a balance.
She’ll go over the rules, expectations, consequences, and reward system. The students will explore snails, write stories, practice spelling words, review addition and subtraction, participate in mandatory anti-bullying campaign weekly circle, have lunch, have snack, take restroom breaks, check out library books, sharpen pencils, check cubies, and review test prep materials.
She’ll gobble down her food while trying to grade papers, so she doesn’t have to stay too late, today. She’ll realize Martin has no backpack and take note of what he likes to be sure to swing by Wal-Mart on the way home to be sure Martin has a place to put his homework folder. She’ll check homework folders and take note of those that didn’t read the night before, as they’ll owe her recess if left undone. The students will have to read during recess.
She’ll take note to call their mom for whom has worked her fingers to the bone to remind her that reading, nightly, is not optional but mandatory. & then, the mom will say there is no time and the teacher will have to be assertive and then she’ll cry after hanging up the phone because she cares more than the mom does. She’ll cry because she wants her kids to succeed more than anything in the world.
It’s hard teaching kids on multiple levels. Some kids are reading 5 words a minute and others are reading 100 words a minute, but she must get them all to the next level by meeting each student where they are and taking them to new heights. She’ll fill out a retention packet because Khloe is reading 5 words per minute instead of 100 words per minute and not making any growth. She’ll fight for her students and argue with the school counselor, as she’ll recommend not holding the child back. The teacher will have to get assertive, again, and stand her ground as she always has her children’s best interests at heart.
There will be Math, English, Grammar, Science, Social Studies, Spelling, and Reading to teach, but the teacher will teach in the pockets in between, too. Each minute is accounted for. Each second is a teaching opportunity and she’ll take it to fit it all in. She’ll teach what it means to be vulnerable, empathetic, to look outside of the neighborhood for the future, sharing, caring, organizational skills, note-taking skills, test prep strategies, anti-bullying strategies, acceptance, what it means to be a good citizen of their communities, anti-anxiety methods, sympathy, tolerance, pride, and self-confidence.
just another mama next door 
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