Oct
4
Coleen Armstrong
Teachers everywhere are currently bracing themselves for what I call the “I just got slammed over the head with a shovel” syndrome.
No educator will need any explanation of what that means; he’s already nodding his head in recognition. But a parent or taxpaying citizen might.
Regardless of how many lesson plans the classroom teacher has prepared in advance, he is instantly deluged on day one with an unrelenting shower of paperwork: classroom rosters, textbook inventory sheets, emergency contact and health forms. Seating charts must be created, grade books must be organized. There are spreadsheets to create, daily attendance, cut slips, and drop/add notices to keep track of.
There are also as many as 170 new students to meet and greet. The teacher knows that first impressions, while lasting, are by no means definitive. Over the next several weeks he’ll likely discover that while Joe’s withdrawn demeanor hides a sharp, evaluative intellect, Marcy’s hides a deep-rooted dislike of all authority figures––her new teacher included. Over the next several months, this teacher must strive to make certain that Joe doesn’t get too bored, and Marcy doesn’t erupt in fury over a chance remark.
Now multiply those two by 15. Or 30. Or 85.
What I’d like to convey to the public, first, is this: Despite what you’ve heard, teachers don’t work a mere seven hours each day and then dart out the schoolroom door to enjoy a leisurely, balmy round of tennis. Between the first day of school and Thanksgiving “break,” most are putting in an extra four hours each night and even more on weekends. (Who do you think grades all of those worksheets, essay questions and class projects? And when is that likely to happen?)
Second, most teachers genuinely want to do what’s best for their students. Once met and greeted, each one becomes a cherished individual with a multitude of complex desires, challenges and needs. In time the teacher will attempt to get to know each one better. During the first few weeks, however, he’s doing well to stay afloat among a multitude of personalities and demands.
So to the teaching ranks, I’d like to offer some advice: First, accept that early in each school year (sorry, over 31 years I never found a way to significantly change this unpleasant reality) you will feel completely overwhelmed and exhausted. But once the logistics are in place (seating charts must be configured during that first evening; there’s no other way to start learning who everyone is), and things begin to run more smoothly, you’ll hit your stride. This is not to say that you won’t frequently continue to feel as wrung out as a wet dishrag. But that shovel you were hit with early on will return to its figurative closet. Until next August.
Meanwhile, you must find something that invigorates, enthuses, energizes, and entertains you. Whether it’s jogging, reading People Magazine or rolling out homemade pizza for your family’s dinner, identify it and then clutch it fiercely to your chest. Don’t surrender it to the almighty schedule. Constant workworkworkwork with no free time and no relaxation has never provided anyone with a longer, happier life.
One final illustration: Following one of my most harrowing first days of school many years ago, I arrived at home about 4:30 p.m. feeling so whipped that as soon as I closed the front door, I lay down on the living room floor to rest for just a moment. I awoke four hours later––still wearing my suit and high heels, still clutching my loaded leather briefcase in my right hand. It was a wakeup call in the strictest sense.
After the first three weeks, I was no longer coming home feeling so dead that I instantly conked out, still dressed in full business attire.
Most days I managed to at least kick my shoes off.
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