My first year back in a classroom after having children and cancer was exhausting, but the fire was roaring. I was nominated for teacher of the year the first year there — and I wasn’t even eligible. Parents in my suburban Atlanta community were supportive. Students were dedicated. Administration was on our team.
The next year, the state fully implemented the new teacher evaluation system and some alarming directives on how to evaluate the teachers. I was determined that with my heart for teaching, this would not change a thing; teachers have to be flexible and adapt after all. Any guesses on how long it took my roaring fire to become ashes and soot?
Less than three months (and that’s being generous). I couldn’t get past the fact that I felt my career identity had been demolished, and more importantly, my heart was experiencing such a dramatic change in a glimmer of time. Here is one major reason: Every day is spent playing defense.
Of course I wanted feedback about how to improve! I will never claim to be the best, the image of perfection, the role model for all. I know I have growth areas. What I don’t need to do is defend every decision I make.
Literally. Every. Single. Decision.
Have you ever had to justify why a colleague needed to stand in your doorway while you ran to the restroom after six hours of holding it? What about an explanation for why a student, who has failed every subject nearly every year, is now failing your class? What is it you are not doing that this student is absent so frequently? Why did your class sit at this lunch table instead of that one? Why did you give this student a silent lunch? Follow up: We need a written statement explaining your reason for our files. Did you use data to decide on that homework assignment?
Teachers know all too well that it truly doesn’t matter if a problem is out of your control or not; you will be held accountable for an explanation and a solution.
When children are no longer viewed as children, but rather a number, a piece of data, a risk factor for my student growth model based on the state test, children are no longer the reason education exists. Education should not be a business, nor a competition, nor a data mine, nor an overall dehumanized semblance of infrastructure. It’s supposed to be a place where mistakes lead to growth, where children discover themselves and their talents, where practice makes perfect, where character development is critical. These are things you will not see in a public education facility anymore. These are things that have no value in the state’s eyes. These are things that drive quality teachers out of this field with hurricane-like force, and I am just not willing to board up the windows and ride this one out, because it’s like I’m saying I support these practices as best for children.
Educators should not be attached to that abysmal lie.
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