I Teach, What's Your Superpower?

I am one of the few that get to wake up in the mornings and head to a job that also happens to truly be my hobby, passion, and calling. 

Now I know, just as well as any other teacher in America, that our job is hard work. I'm talking wear a cape save the world kind of hard work. 

I think you can compare teachers to doctors in a lot of ways... 

• We are NEVER truly off the clock. 
• We can't help but to bring our work home with us. 
• What we do truly does have the potential to change lives. 
• We have to fear getting sued and are constantly trying to keep everyone happy. 
• During the work day we must walk fast and talk fast. Never mind bathroom breaks-those are novelties our schedules do not include. 
• It's impossible to go a day without getting stains on our clothes. 
• The food our facility serves is terrible, but it's not like we have time to sit down and eat it anyways. 
• We spent tons of time and money getting through school and taking exams, we're professionals, yet when it comes right down to the big things- our opinion doesn't really matter; ultimately, it's up to the parents. 
• We're on our feet all day, must remain professional, and are consequently under a lot of stress. 

And it would honestly just be insulting your intelligence if I felt it necessary to point out the big difference, right? Because everyone knows that doctors...get more CREDIT. That's right. That's what I'd choose to harp about. Not the fact that they live well above middle class and can afford the finer things of life while many teachers become masters at budgeting and clearance-scouting and live pay check to pay check. (Ok, I had to harp on that a little.) But seriously, that's the least of my complaints. What gets me-- what really ruffles my feathers-- is the fact that doctors receive a lot more appreciation. It's not that they get it that bothers me, because they deserve it. It's just that we don't get it so much. 


Teaching is seriously so h-a-r-d. 

It's not the lesson planning or the faculty meetings or the mounds of papers or the extracurricular activities we must participate in outside of our "8 hour" day. No, those things are easy, peasy. It's not the sore feet or the stretched bladders.(I actually think bladder holding becomes one of our super powers.)It's not the fact that we become the focus of many observations and are subject to constant constructive criticism. And ya know what, it's not even the parents that make our job so hard.  

That's right. I can even look past the fact that parents expect us to work miracles with a child that is receiving no schedule, structure, help, or support of any kind at home. Or the fact that parents expect us to remember that little Johnny is getting picked up by Aunt June whose visiting from Florida (and is in fact NOT on the pick up list) and that Sally Sue has to be allowed to go to the bathroom 248 times a day because she has never been told no in her life has a Dr.'s note and that it's Billy Bob's Birthday so his mom will be bringing in cupcakes...except she's one short, no make that two, because I just remembered that Sally Sue can't eat foods that contain gluten. I'm alright with the fact that we must become sticky note queens and accommodate all at the drop of a hat.  

There's so much pressure that comes from knowing you are the sole adult responsible for educating twenty-five 7-8 year olds for 180 days. (Unless you have been the only adult in a room with twenty-five 7-8 year olds for more than 10 minutes, you can't begin to even guess what 180 days feels like.)On top of teaching them how to read and write and compute and to think logically, we also must nurture their souls, feed their confidence, and prepare them to be upstanding citizens. 

There's so much talent involved in finding the balance between teaching the mind and teaching the heart. And to me, that's it- that's the hardest part. 

"The powers that be" constantly change programs and techniques and resources and insist that we keep up to speed and implement appropriately. We have the ever looming standards that we teach like crazy in attempts to "cover" them all and the end-of-the-year test that we are constantly prepping our kids for along with the fundamental challenge of ensuring that all students can be successful in the succeeding grade. But at the very same time, right in the middle of all those challenges, we have the other side of the coin. We must remember the kids in our room that come from broken homes, that face problems we may never fully know about. We must remember that just as much as we're there to teach kids how to skip count, we're needed to feed the hungry child, hug the smelly child, protect the abused child, and contact help for the lice infested head... We must remember to be patient, encouraging, calm, and did I mention patient? So while we are in the middle of an observation and are trying to teach our kiddos to subtract two digit numbers with regrouping (even though we are using a "new" method that parents won't understand), we have to remember not to raise our voice or become impatient when Little Johnny keeps looking at the clock (because he's anxious to see his aunt) and Billy Bob keeps raising his hand to ask if it's snack time (because he's excited his mom made cupcakes) and Sally Sue keeps going to the bathroom (because, well, maybe she really does have an issue). You must remain patient and speak sweetly even though all those incidents mean that your principal is now scoring you low in the category of student engagement and you'll probably have to set through Professional Development in attempts to help you have more engaging lessons. 

Yes, we must dress ourself in our daily costume of smiley-patience and use our loud, perky teacher-voice. Our classroom truly is our stage and every minute children are in it we must perform. The eyes of our audience are constantly on us..and ya know what? They adore us. The children, though they can be mischievous, messy, and noisy, almost always adore their teacher. Even if their teacher isn't very adore-able. That's just one of the many awesome things about children. And about our career. 

I hope you did not get the impression that I don't love my job. I do. It's the most fun I've ever had. I truly enjoy and feel blessed to be able to get to do it. It's where I'm supposed to be at this point in my life. 

It's just that I wish we received a little more credit. Because in those moments, when we truly feel appreciated, it's not so hard. 

Have you ever thought about what it would be like if the tables were turned? What if teachers got to request the students they wanted to teach? That would go over O.K with parents, right? Seeing as how they have no problem requesting us. Or what about if, upon graduating college, our professors were held accountable for our final grades and our success in the "real world"?... you see what I'm saying? 

I'm not asking for those things. I know they are not practical. However, I am asking for you to thank a teacher. I mean, genuinely, honestly, say thank you. I had a parent call me my first week of teaching just to tell me that she appreciated me. That was all. It touched me deeply. 

I'm very lucky to work for a principal that understands the value of a pat on the back. He's pretty generous in dishing them out. It makes all the difference. 

Society often makes jabs at our profession presenting it as a "pie" job. A "cop-out" job. As "settling". Heck, I know plenty of teachers who are openly in it for the summers or practically wear a sign on their back that says "Don't Become a Teacher". 

But that's not me. I take pride in what I do. I enjoy what I do. And   I know that in the course of my lifetime something that goes on in my classroom will positively affect a child. And what's more, that's enough for me- whether I ever get thanked again or not. But hey, it sure wouldn't hurt.