It has been quite a while since I last wrote some words in this space. Many things have happened in that time; the birth of two daughters, living more healthfully, five more years of experience teaching, crossing the paths of hundreds of students. In some ways those years have been a blur, and in others a kind of monotonous progression. I do feel that I have grown as a teacher, but also that the outcome of that progress, whatever that should be, is still quite distant.
It was in my
last post that I both congratulated graduating seniors and exhorted "those left behind" to continue the good fight of the day to day mental and physical work of being a student. I still stand by those words, but with another year wrapping up, I thought I'd expound on something that seems to be weighing more and more heavily on me, which is the emotional toll of my job.
Being a teacher is exciting, innovative, challenging, necessary, rewarding, endearing, humbling, and eye opening. It is also exhausting, repetitive, bureaucratic, draining, frustrating, Sisyphean, Herculean, and demanding. This mixture of traits is in constant flux each and every day, and sometimes within the span of minutes. It is present on the good days and bad, the days on and the days off, in the fall, winter, spring, and even summer. But nothing focuses these myriad feelings quite like the last couple weeks of school, when the fruit of one's labor comes to pass.
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| Sisyphus, Antonio Zanchi, 1660-1665, The Hague |
As Charles Dickens famously wrote in his opening lines of A Tale of Two Cities, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...." That time is now, a kind of melancholia-laced cessation. Relief as the roller coaster of the school year comes to a standstill, but an inchoate sense of dread for next year’s unexpected turns. I feel both the over-brimming pride of seeing seniors whom I've taught for four years graduate, and the crushing defeat of students for whom I was never able to find the magic key to unlock their potential. It is a time when end of year surveys make me smile and cry at the same time. If ever there was a definition for bittersweet, this is it.
I'm a person who tends to live in the "what if" and the "if only." The present is never good enough, and the future is always an aspirational goal just on the horizon. The benefit of this outlook is that I am usually improving myself (as a person, as a teacher, as a husband, as a father, and so on), but I can sometimes get caught in the eddies of progress and spin around helplessly as I try to find my footing. The bigger drawback, however, is that I fear I'm imposing an implacable burden on myself that has no immediate (or even eventual) resolution. It is one thing to have manageable, achievable, actionable goals, and quite another to have idealistic expectations that are impossible to actualize.
It is human nature (or at least my nature) to focus on the pitfalls. For each student who didn't achieve what they could have, or should have; for the curriculum I didn't get to; for the teaching strategies I didn't employ well, or at all; for the relationships not kindled and fostered; for the (seeming) exodus of interest in humanities for other subjects; for my inability to capture and maintain interest for my students; for all these things, I ask myself what I could have done if only I'd had the time, energy, motivation, guidance, or wherewithal to get it accomplished.
But I must also force myself to accept with each of those shortcomings (which are so easy to overthink) a kernel of hope and optimism (which is so much more difficult for me). Those silver linings often get obscured by the clouds.
An example of this came recently as I was saying goodbye to one of my classes after finals, wishing them a joyful summer and thanking them for a wonderful year. Some students piped up about their greatest memories of class. I won't say it as touchingly as they did, but they remarked about how I was a kind and understanding person, that I cared about them, and that they really appreciated it. (And I've received notes recently with similar sentiments.)
This blew me away. Not because it isn't true (I do care about my students), but because it was spontaneous, unsolicited, and genuine. Moreover, it's an area of my teaching approach that I tend to perceive as underdeveloped (i.e. I feel I lack affability, display awkward social graces, and that I am unable to personally connect with my students).
For those who don't know me in person, you might expect me to be an articulate, gregarious, people-person. I care deeply about others (both on a personal and sociological level), social justice, and equity, and I think it comes through in my writing. But meet me on the street and you'll see a reserved, introverted, sometimes brooding person. I can sometimes put on a show in class, a teacher-actor performing for my student audience. Yet my natural, unadulterated self flees from social interactions. I'm the kind of guy who never learned how to "do" small talk and usually those kinds of conversations fizzle out like an untended fire. I'm often at a loss for words (ironic, as this post creeps longer and longer), and I have a really hard time showing emotion, at least in my work-life. I'm the wallflower at parties and I feel that students think I'm unapproachable as a teacher.
What my students said and wrote turned that thinking on its head. I guess that in my focus on negatives, I didn't fully value my positives. I guess that I underestimated my impact on others, or focused too much on a flawed delivery method (i.e. social awkwardness) and not enough on the substance. I guess that being human is complicated.
What is the take-away of these ruminations? What can you and I glean from this? This piece is meant neither as a pity party or a pat on the back. For all those things I could be doing better, I should continue to try to do them better. This isn't an excuse to stop self-reflection or honing one's skills. But I should also appreciate and relish the things that I already do and that have a positive impact on others. I hope that you, dear reader, whether you are a student, a teacher, or just someone looking for advice, can take these same insights with you.
- Be grateful for what you have, even if it doesn't seem like enough. It's something.
- Be kind to others. Why? It makes them feel good, it makes you feel good, and it’s a good thing to do. We need more goodness, for goodness's sake.
- Pour a bunch of salt on your personal pitfalls. A grain won't do. Be self reflective, but only with extreme moderation. Don’t let it overwhelm you.
- Nourish your strengths. They will wilt without care. If you don’t know what your strengths are, listen to others. They’ll tell you.
- Cut yourself some slack. Rome wasn’t built in a day. (Required Latin teacher bromide.)
- Don't judge a person by their cover. It is a poor substitute for understanding what is in a person’s head.
To my students, thank you so much for your kind words and thoughts. I don't think this post really does justice to how much you and your words mean to me. Though it might sound trite or cliché, go thank a teacher that has had an impact on you, because they may not otherwise know. To everyone, as this school year comes to a close, continue to self-reflect and aim for the moon, but don't let the Siren's song of some more perfect future you entice you from the probably flawed, always striving, current you. There is much we have to offer just as we are. Have a wonderful summer.
