Things Your Education Program Will Never Tell You

1) You must have a bladder made of steal. You will drink copious amounts of coffee to keep the momentum throughout the day, but you will never be allowed to pee.

2) Get a second job. Schools these days will give you the bare minimum, like a pen and a pencil, and if you're lucky, a dry erase marker. If you want anything else, it's coming out of your paycheck.

3) Wear a bullet-proof vest (I'm speaking metaphorically here). Kids will hurl some nasty insults. Some I've heard as of late: "You're a hypocrite!" "I'm not choosing between your class and my future!" "I wish you would have been fired and not Mr. So And So." Ouch. It hurts, and there are days I just want to cry.

4) Long gone are the schools on TV that have gleaming hardwood floors and a plant in the window and the secretary who has been there for 20 years and knows everyone. If those places exist, I've not found them. Welcome to the understaffed urban school where pigeons live in the ceiling, termites are in the walls, and the roof leaks. Oh, and the cleaning crew is you!

5) Be prepared to form attachments, and don't buy into that "Never touch a student." Looking at the list so far, why would anyone endure this? The kids. I've loved them, and I love them still. Earlier this week, one of my kids said, "You look like you need a hug." I did, and that hug allowed me to make it through the rest of the day.

6) You need to be able to eat in 15 minutes. You know how corporate America gets "hour lunches?" Yeah, not in the world of education. If you don't inhale your food as a teacher, you just won't eat.

7) Say farewell to lazy weekends. Most teachers I know, myself included, work a 60-80 hour workweek.

8) You have to have a no-nonsense attitude, especially when teaching in an urban environment. Kids will come up with a million and one reasons why they can't or won't, and they will challenge your authority. You have to stand firm in your expectations and your positions. My new favorite comeback: "Your 14-year-old-self doesn't get to tell me what and how. Until the day comes when you've attended college for eight years and you've been in the classroom for seven years, you don't utter a peep about how and why I do things. You read me?"

9) Every teacher drinks. It's just a no-brainer.

10) Personal space? They want to know everything about you. Be prepared to know where the line is, then draw it with a really, really thick marker.    

11) The lightbulb moments are amazing. When a kid get it--or even better--when a kid teaches you something, it's the best high. It's like climbing a mountain then reaching the summit. It's simply breathtaking.

12) It's better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission. My master teacher taught me this. If you ask for permission, then all these other people get involved and it takes a month for an answer. Do it anyway, then in the meantime, practice the "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize I needed to consult you about this matter."

13) You're not a real teacher until you think you're the worst teacher ever, and you're screwing up the lives of your kids.

14) You will quit your job in your mind (and maybe even for real) more times than you'd ever want to publically admit.

15) Everyone has an opinion on how to fix education, but the teachers' voices are the ones that need to be the loudest. Outside of parenting, this is the hardest job and the most important job there is. The education of the next generation rests upon our shoulders. Every doctor, politician, actor, police officer, lawyer, teacher, CEO, etc., was once a student and had a teacher. Without us, none of those jobs would be possible. Yet at the same time, teachers have very little input on the decisions that directly impact their jobs. That's why we can't do this alone, and that's why teachers need to educate their community about what is really going on in their classrooms so we can fix this.

Hang In There

That phrase--hang in there--renders images of those posters with a cat dangling from a filing cabinet that women in their 50s and 60s find funny so they hang them in their cubicles. But, at the end of the day, that is what I hear, and that is what I'm doing--hanging in there.

It's not easy to do. This schedule leaves little time to be creative and fun with the kids. My lesson plans look like a bulleted to-do list. The grading is stacking up. The hours of not sleeping is racking up. We all are on-edge and just trying to get through the day. This is not teaching. It's more like bulldozing through the curriculum. And I hate that feeling.

I'm sure someone on a pedagogical cloud could descend and give me "tips" on how to do things, but let's be real for a minute: Each week, I must plan five 90-minute classes for two grade levels each week.  After doing the math, that's ten 90-minute classes each week. 900 minutes of thoughtful, rigorous, standards-based instruction a week. That's twice as much planning as most teachers in America who are on a block schedule and teaching two subjects or grade levels. And did I mention that the books I'm teaching have not arrived, so I spend my "off period" making copies for all the kids. Great use of my time, huh? Planning? Grading? Nah. I just put on my Kinko's hat and go to work. Oh, and I forgot to mention the four times in the past two weeks that I had to stay until 4:45 to watch a class because the teacher never showed. Unpaid, of course.

Education in America sucks. Big time. And I agree with Waiting for Superman that there are too many teachers who should have been fired a long time ago. And I agree that unions often do get in the way of the changes that need to happen. But, what about those of us who love our jobs but are overworked and are becoming consumed by it? Teaching is a flame, and it needs to be steady and strong to light the room wherever it is, but what happens when it starts to consume the bearer of that flame?

Telling me to "hang in there" is not a real solution. It's condescending to those who have to face the brutal realities of the system, and it's not helping the kids who have to suffer the consequences of what's happening to their schools and their teachers.