This one is to the teachers. You are my people. Well … most of you. Some of you are way more dedicated than I am, and I applaud you from my seat in the back of the room where my feet are up on my desk and I’m reading Twitter on my phone while I drink on my sweet tea/lemonade combo waiting for that final bell to ring so I can take off to the farm for the weekend.
This school year has started off hard. (Side note: “That’s what she said” is always hilarious. Try it in the nursing home when you overhear old-people conversations. You won’t regret it.)
This school year has started off hard and I don’t know why. I have a supportive administration, they encourage me and have my back – so it’s not that. It’s not the kids; they are as smart and funny and hardworking and awesome to be around as ever. It’s not my colleagues; they are dedicated and fun to work with.
It has felt like everything is harder than it should be this year. And I’m not alone in thinking this. Just in the last week or two I’ve had conversations with six different teachers who all said the same thing: it feels harder than it should be. Maybe it’s the technology changes; maybe it’s because we have piles of work to grade, a pile of college recommendation letters to write, new units to plan, and new tests to write. But that’s just normal teacher stuff. Maybe it’s because the world feels more awful every day, and hatred and injustice seem like they’re winning. Maybe it’s because until last Friday – MID FREAKING OCTOBER – it was still 99 degrees and we’re all just over it being sweaty hot in Texas.
But here’s what I do know. The October funk happens to me every year. The honeymoon period of the beginning of school is over and we’re in the grind. Kids are sick of me and the feeling is temporarily mutual. No good holiday is in sight. BUT. IT. ENDS. Every year, it ends.
The cool front came through Texas a few days ago and proved that we survived yet another Texas summer. Yes, it will get hot again next week, but we got a break and we know the bigger cold fronts will start showing up. Eventually we get to wear the cute sweaters we bought last year and people will compliment us and we will not see a sheen of sweat anywhere on anybody.
The piles of work to do will still be there, but we will decide what needs to be done immediately, what doesn’t really even have to be graded at all, and what can we move to the pile for the next grading period. We will whittle them down and get them done. Like we do every year.
The world will still be in chaos, but we can choose to look for the good news instead of the bad. The guy who just became the first person to ever run a marathon in under two hours (just anyone who finishes a marathon is worthy of miracles, but this guy is a whole other level). We can leave town, go for a walk outside, read a book just for fun, meditate and just sit quietly with our eyes closed for 5 minutes, ask for help, OH MY GOODNESS LOOK AT THIS BIT OF PRECIOUSNESS:
All of this is to say, you are not alone, teacher friends. You don’t need to feel like it’s just you. It’s never just you. (Unless you’re the sub-2-hour-marathon-guy and then yeah, it’s totally just you.)
So one day at a time, one pile of papers at a time, you’re normal and it’s not just you.
And seriously, “that’s what she said” will always bring a smile. Maybe don’t say it out loud – it could elicit a disapproving look from the “People Who Don’t Get Humor”, or the “That’s Not Appropriate” Crowd, or the “You’re Supposed To Be More Mature Than An Eleven Year Old Boy” folks … but say it in your head and you’ll giggle a little inside.
