The Day After

I did not want to go to school today.

The day after another tragedy.

The day after another school shooting.

“We won’t be watching CNN 10 today, friends. I just feel it’s best that we don’t.”

Students nod their heads understandingly.

One student whispers, “because of the…SS…school shooting?”

I nod my head to confirm.

I tell them that I love them and would do anything for them.

I tell them that I’m here if they need to talk, and so is every other adult on campus.

I tell them that today we’re going to watch Emperor’s New Groove and they can sit with their friends.

They cheer and move and I see all the little friendships that have formed in my classroom under my care and guidance.

They BELLY LAUGH at the best parts of the movie.

They ask, “what are we going to do on the last day of school!?”

I wish I knew. I wish I could tell them.

Sadly, each day is a mystery.

We can plan all we want, but we can’t control everything.

Maybe a game, maybe another movie, maybe helping Ms. Schindler clean out her classroom. Who knows what Friday will bring.

Hopefully lots of hugs.

Probably some tears.

Definitely a sense of gratitude for all that my students have given me this year.

“We’re the ones who made you want to leave.”

“No, you’re the ones who make me want to stay.”

I’m not leaving my kids.

I’m taking on a new challenge.

Something I always encourage my kids to do.

I’m doing something I’ve never done before.

I could easily fail.

What is my life if not a classroom teacher?

I’ll never know until I try.

They will continue to be the reason I care deeply about education.

11 years of teaching.

Seeing so many grow into successful adults.

Caring about their well-being always.

Worrying about them when things are tough.

Praising them when they achieve their goals.

Rooting for them always.

I have 11 years worth of kids that I’m carrying with me.

I need a break before adding any more.

I can’t believe some teachers do this for 20-30+ years.

My entire lifetime.

I had those teachers.

But I am not that teacher.

Not right now, at least; and that’s okay.

I am still:

Passionate about education.

Caring, curious, empathetic, compassionate, eager, and welcoming.

Thinking about every kid I’ve never taught or coached.

Grateful for all the people that have helped mold me into the educator I am today.

Hopeful that education will become EVERYONE’S top priority, whether they work in the field or not.

If you care about life, and the future of humanity, you should care about public education and all that the institution provides — no matter how messed up it is at times.

Education is the answer.

Education is our future.

Education is our hope.

Love Needs Help

As a middle school teacher, there are several days throughout the school year that you need a little extra strength to make it through…the days before any holiday break, Halloween, any full moon, Valentine’s Day, April Fool’s Day, etc. This year for me, Valentine’s day came one day after grades were due for teachers. Particularly exhausted, I geared myself up for a day of wired kids full of sugar and middle school love. During my third period class, as my students were working quietly and diligently on a map of Asia, I was filled with an overwhelming feeling of responsibility.  I thought to myself, all 32 of these kids are mine. For these 90 minutes, they are my responsibility. I looked around at them and thought of something good about each one of them…and yes…even something good about the ones that give me the most trouble. Little did I know that not long after I had that brief moment of realization, teachers halfway across the country would be putting that responsibility into action to save the lives of their students.

My last class of the day was rough. The combination of sugar and emotions of either getting or not getting a valentine had all of us on edge, and the 20th incorrect answer of “HAWAII” shouted to answer a question put me over that edge. I ended class early with a new seating chart and silence from students in their new seats for the last 5 minutes of class (as opposed to their anxious line up by the door where we often chat about after school/weekend plans). I hated the way I left things with that class. A few of them apologized on their way out, but it did not matter. I let my kids leave class on a bad note and it did not sit well with me. My mind immediately went to places it shouldn’t. “What if something happens to them on their way home and this was their last memory of school? What if something happens to me and they think I was truly mad at them?” I sulked over to my desk and opened my drawer to take a look at the accumulating notifications on my phone. That was when I learned of the mass shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Florida. There I was, upset that my students were going to think I didn’t care about them because they were talking while I was talking, while the students at Stoneman Douglas were learning just how much their teachers care for them as they tried to keep them safe during a shooting.

I did not watch much of the news coverage that night. I finally forced myself to read some articles and watch the news the next evening. The details were horrifying. Many people immediately blamed gun control laws for the massacre, others were quick to blame mental health issues, and there was a widespread urge to simply be kind to each other and love each other. I don’t think there is just one single thing to blame. I think it’s a combination of all of the above.

To the community of Parkland, Florida: there are no words to express the sorrow that I feel for you. The bravery of the teachers, students, and first responders is truly incredible. Please continue to use your voices and know that there are many who support you on the journey ahead of you.

To my students: I love you. Even on the days that you think I don’t, I do. And I’m sorry if you ever think anything else. My hope is that you will always feel safe and welcome in my classroom and at school in general; that the headlines, “another school shooting” are no longer commonplace in your world; and that your parents can leave you in my care for the day without a shadow of a doubt that you will be safe.

To those of you who say it’s a gun issue: I am with you. But it’s not the only issue.

To those of you who say it’s a mental health issue: I am with you. But it’s not the only issue.

To those of you who say “love each other”: I am with you. But, know this: teachers love their students, even when it’s hard to love them. Teachers love their students even when they make bad choices. And when their students make bad choices, the teacher wonders, “What could I have done differently to help them make the right choice? How could I have loved them better?” When a teacher loses a student, they wonder, “Could I have saved them? Why them and not me?” Let me say it again. TEACHERS LOVE THEIR STUDENTS. Teachers educate, love, tie shoes, put band-aids on boo boos, listen when no one else will, discipline, encourage, and the list goes on. But my goodness, we need some help. We can’t do it all on our own. I guarantee, there are many talented, passionate teachers saying right now, “I love teaching and I love my kids, but I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” We do our best to teach kids to love, but we can’t be the only ones to teach that lesson. While I do believe that love is a powerful force, maybe love, like teachers, needs a little help too. So….

To our lawmakers: PLEASE, HELP! It’s not too soon to talk about gun control. It’s not too soon to talk about mental health. In fact, it’s too late to talk about it. It’s too late to talk about how many school shootings there have been in 2018. Because one school shooting is too many. It’s time to stop talking and it’s time to do something. I don’t have the answer, but guess what? It’s not my job to come up with one! I can play my part by voicing my opinion, by calling my congressman, and by voting; but, I can’t make the decisions after that. I don’t know what the solution is, but I do know that the solution is NOT to just keep talking about it. By taking no action, it appears as though the people we elect to make choices for us, to help us “become a more perfect union”, don’t care enough about us at all. For the sake of the future of our country, for the young people who need to learn to love and trust that THEY MATTER — please — stop talking, start listening, and do something.

Why I Marched

On January 21, 2017, millions of people in the U.S. gathered to exercise their constitutional right to peaceably assemble. In fact, this type of act took place all over the world. Initially, the Women’s March on Washington was organized to take place in Washington D.C. the day after Donald Trump was inaugurated as the 45th president of the United States; but, other major cities, including Austin, Texas, soon followed suit and organized marches of their own in the name of the same cause. When I heard that this event would take place, I immediately thought, “I HAVE TO GO! This is my chance to be the imagined 1960s version of myself!” But then I thought, “Well, maybe I shouldn’t. What if it turns violent? What am I really marching for?” I remembered how long it took me to get over my (at times crippling) fear of the uncertain and things beyond my control and knew that I could not let that same fear creep back into my life and prevent me from attending this, what would be, historic event in our country. So, it was decided. I would go. But then there was that second question. Why am I really marching? Many people are asking this question today. Why are all of these people marching? What are they trying to accomplish? Many people are angry by these demonstrations. Some people are saying that the people who marched need to just get over the fact that “their candidate” didn’t win and immediately assume that this type of peaceful assembly must mean the same thing for every single one of the millions of people that participated. I cannot speak for every single woman, man, or child who marched yesterday. I can only speak for myself – a 28 year old, white American female, who has not voted in some past elections, recognized for myself the importance of that privilege, and most certainly voted in this year’s presidential election. So, here’s why I marched:

I marched because I believe that women are continually marginalized in our society. I marched because I believe there should be more women to hold political office. I marched because many male (and some female) law-makers want to take away a woman’s right to make a choice about her own body, deny affordable access to necessary and preventative healthcare for issues that only women have. I marched because I want to change the sexism that is engrained in our society and does not seem to be a problem to many of our political leaders. I marched because of the defeated look on the faces of many of my middle school students after the election. I marched because I believe victims of rape and sexual assault do not always get the justice they deserve. I am lucky to have never been the victim of one of these crimes; but, I could have been, and I still very well may be. It is scary to think about. What is even more scary to think about is the fact that the person who may commit that type of crime against me may not be punished for it, depending on the way he looks, acts, or who he knows. I marched because I have friends who may no longer have access to affordable healthcare for themselves and their families. I marched because I am a white female in America where my friends of other races and ethnicities still face adversity because of the color of their skin or the country from which their family came. I marched because injustice for a few is injustice for ALL. 

But mostly I marched because I want our president to succeed as our leader. I want him to be a leader that listens to ALL of his people, and fulfill his promise to return the power of the United States of America back to the people. I marched because I want to be HEARD. I want my mere existence as a woman to be recognized and valued. I want the president to follow through on his promise to me and all Americans when he said, “To all Americans in every city near and far, small and large…hear these words: you will never be ignored again.” Because I have never felt more ignored and undervalued in my life than I have in the year 2016. I marched because I want the president to help America be “great” by embracing the diversity that so uniquely defines the vibrant fabric of which our country is made. I want him to succeed by recognizing women — ALL WOMEN — as valuable members of society who should not be spoken of as objects that men can handle and use at their disposal. I want him to succeed by promoting love and kindness toward all people regardless of their race, ethnicity, nationality, gender, religion, sexual orientation, or political party. I marched because I want to see our country continue to progress toward a nation of acceptance and tolerance and respect.

I know there are people who don’t understand why I marched yesterday and there are people who will never even try to understand. I know there are people who might see this shared on Facebook and not even take the time to read it, but will say things to try to hurt me or make me feel ashamed or maybe even call me names. But I can’t do anything about it because of our First Amendment right to the freedom of speech. I can only hope that people will respond and react with respect and the old “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all” ideal. I also hope that the women out there who don’t agree with the Women’s March that took place yesterday, will recognize my right to assemble and say what I believe just as I will allow them to do the same. When it comes down to it, I marched because I can and because people have made huge sacrifices in order for that to be possible.

I want to be seen. I want to be heard. I want others to listen. I want to listen to others. I want love to conquer hate. I want to embrace our differences and find some sort of middle ground. I want us to accept that we will all not be pleased by our laws, but we can be civil and reasonable and tolerant in the way we go about trying to get what we want and stand up for what we believe is right.

 

“A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality.”
-John Lennon