In support of Virginia Teachers…actually all teachers

Teaching for me is both hate and love. It is both misery and the greatest joy. Each working day is full of laughter, intensity, exhaustion, and extreme frustration. There are many times during my career where I have walked out of my classroom, vowing never to return. There have also been days when I have felt the power of my talent and have witnessed extraordinary transformations. There have been days of unforgettable sorrow and loss. I have now been an educator for 17 years, long enough to notice the patterns and the outcomes of the words and actions that I have created in my classroom. I have taught art and art history to over 2000 teenagers and although most of them have not become artists, they have gone on to make a life full of curiosity and questioning.

I am far from a perfect teacher, and it is easy to list my defeats, as there are many. I have felt the consequences of my mistakes deeply. I have failed to see the goodness in teenagers that hid it well. I have failed to get to know my silent students until it was too late. I have forgotten empathy, defended my ego too many times, and I have felt a huge sense of relief watching certain students leave my classroom at end of a school year. I have had my lessons fall flat, had my temper flair out of control, and I have said the wrong thing to the wrong child many, many times.

My worst moments have been when I have failed to acknowledge my role in the oppression of my students of color. I have ignored the importance of giving them representation in my classroom. I have interpreted misbehavior as defiance and insubordination instead of as boredom and exclusion. I haven’t fought hard enough for their equity in a very inequitable place. I have bowed to fear and anger from my colleagues instead of working harder to create an inclusive school. I have been a willing participant in the public school system that has stolen opportunities for success from my most vulnerable students.

I could spend all of my thoughts and energy thinking of all of my missed opportunities as an educator, but is essential for my mental health and my future in public education to look back at my victories rather than dwell on my defeats. I have an artist’s soul and have been told by many well-meaning people that “I am far too sensitive” and that I tend to internalize everything. I would like take time to celebrate the fact that I have used this ingrained sensitivity to create a small role in the development of a more just and kinder world, as my intentions as a teacher speak to this hope.

FILMMAKERS, MUSEUM REGISTRAR, AUTHOR, COMIC BOOK ARTIST, GRAPHIC DESIGNERS, HIKER OF THE ENTIRE APPALACHIAN TRAIL, HUMAN RIGHTS LAWYER, BAKERY OWNER, SCIENTISTS, IMMIGRATION ACTIVIST, COMMUNITY ORGANIZER, DOCTORS, COMEDIAN, OPERA SINGER, AUTISM EXPERT, NURSES, GUN CONTROL ADVOCATE, ARCHITECT, ART HISTORIAN, SO MANY TEACHERS, HOLISTIC HEALER, ORGAN PLAYER, TV PRODUCER, SOCIAL WORKER, SPEECH THERAPISTS PHOTOGRAPHER FIRE TWIRLER, TATTOO ARTIST, EMT, POET, FIRE FIGHTER, CARPENTER, DRAG QUEEN, HUNGER ACTIVIST, BOOK EDITOR, MINISTER, INTERIOR DESIGNER, NAVY PILOT, SO MANY WORLD TRAVELERS…

My students who keep in touch with me are living their life with honor, struggling and celebrating, becoming loving mothers and fathers, moving to far off places, exploring the world with courage, and studying with more enthusiasm than I will ever have. I can look back and remember key moments of my life as a teacher in which I could predict the future for some of these wonderful people. I can remember their hopes and dreams as teenagers, when they were crying from loneliness or from being misunderstood. I can remember acts of bravery, when my students spoke out against injustice, when they confronted friends on behalf of victims of bullying and exclusion. I remember students coming to me to tell me about unfair teachers and angry parents and sad friends…and I remember our conversations about the inequality of the world and how they wished to change it.

In the moments of these average conversations on an average Tuesday in an average student’s 11th grade year, I remember thinking about what an amazing job I have. I remember the sense of privilege that I felt bearing witness to the wonder and curiosity of teenagers and the collective potential that they possess.

Here is where my thoughts get darker. My profession is dying. There are not enough teachers to fill classrooms. Many expert teachers are quitting and leaving the profession. I too have wanted to quit countless times. It is too hard. My students are experiencing too much trauma for me to be able to shoulder. I have too many students that are hungry and whose parents are imprisoned. I have too many responsibilities to handle and I get too little compensation. I can’t change the inequalities that I witness every day and there is too much pressure to support a system that creates the inequalities in the first place. My colleagues across town deal with extreme heat and cold, buildings that are falling down around them, and a community that has given up on their neighborhood school’s ability to educate their children. If I close my classroom door and concentrate on those conversations with my students, I can ignore the threat to my survival for a time but once I open my door to underfunded classrooms, to the lack of support from law makers, and the inherent racism of the system that I am a part of, I start to feel as if I can’t continue doing my job for much longer. Virginia teachers do not get paid enough to survive. My seventeen years of teaching gives me the privilege of looking back on all of the connections I have made with my students, all of the support and encouragement that I have given them, but it also should allow me to see how my salary has increased with the skill and experience I have gained. The money I make does not reflect the essential job that I do each day. My salary harms my own children and I am often forced to choose between my students and the quality of life of my daughters.

In the end, I still believe that what my colleagues do each day is essential to the future of our country. Those that teach their students how to create dialogue instead of confrontation, those that teach their students how to think critically and avoid being convinced by hate, those that teach their students about kindness and generosity and justice, and those that teach their student to value hard work, innovative thinking, and creative action, are the change-makers that our society desperately needs. Please join your children’s teachers on January 28th to march to the Virginia state capital in Richmond to demand more funding for our public schools. Make sure that our leadership supports this important action by writing or calling school board members and administration to show your desire to work for more school funding. If you are one of my 2000 former students, help me save my profession. You know how essential teachers were to the lives that you lead now. We need your help. Go to Virginiaeducatorsunited.com for more information.