Other Teachers – What Teachers Really Want to Say

Teachers, It is Time For Yet Another Battle

By pszcz | March 31, 2021

In every relationship there comes a time when you have to have an awkward conversation in order to move forward. I have delayed this one long enough. We need to talk about the elephant in the room. Yes, the school year is rumbling towards its clunky end but that does not change the fact that there are still more very serious decisions to make in the coming weeks.

Many of us have been hiding from them. We have been asking ourselves, “Will we or won’t we?” Perhaps we have been denying their existence, putting them out of our minds as we think on other things. We can no longer do that. It is time to talk about them. It is time to acknowledge them and make a plan. Like it or not, they are not going away and we have to decide what to do. Eventually we will all have to face them. Dress pants! We will have to get back into them after putting on the quarantine 19. For months, I have stood at my closet and lied to myself. Appreciating the row of color organized and rainbow ordered career wear has become a favorite pastime. (My closet totally looks like that all the time. Really. Covid or not……)

“I will absolutely be able to get back into every single pair of those,” I think, “even the ones I only wear on skinny days.” I leave the closet with a confidence that can only be rivaled by a preschooler in his favorite superhero costume and go on about my day. The pants stare quietly back biding their time, smug on their hangers and knowing their day will come. They will have the opportunity to attack. When they do, it will be with the organization and fury of the Spartans of old. They will form an offensive so devastating, so complete, that I will later be found by my children wandering in the kitchen, muttering about the need to stock up on low fat vegetables. The kids will shoot each other wary looks, wondering if Mom has finally taken leave of her senses. Recognizing danger, they will back out of the room slowly, with one wary eye on the threat and the other on the path to anywhere else and thus, safety.

Meanwhile, I gnaw on a carrot and sprint for the Bowflex. Upon arrival in the basement, out of breath from my sprint down exactly one flight of stairs, I stare at the great beast. Hands on my knees and catching my breath, my eyes narrow into squinty slits as if I am preparing to fight an age old adversary. Its dust covered, black tentacles still and mocking, Bowflex stares silently back.

“You have finally returned. I knew this day would come” the beast seems to say. We stare at one another for a time. Sizing each other up. If it had feet, we would circle each other like gunslingers in the Old West. The beast has the edge. Even the odds makers in Vegas know my only training in the last 12 months has been from my dining room desk to the kitchen and back. Their money is not on me.

“Although,” I reassure myself, “I made that route several times per day. I may not have hit 10,000 steps everyday, but I had to be close.” There is hope that things are not as dire as they appear. Perhaps the dress pants’ victory is not so sure. My eyes widen with hope and I check the Fitbit app on my phone, in an attempt to reassure myself. It takes a minute because there are several open tabs on my phone, all some version of the game, Candy Mania. After I get those closed I realize I have long forgotten what page I put the fitness tracker app on. The seconds tick by, “Where the heck is that thing? Wait, what does it even look like?” I ask myself.

“AH HA!” I yell, almost chocking because I still have a half chewed mouthful of carrot. “You are in trouble now, Bowlfex. I am about to prove to you and everyone else that I do not need you and that I have been making up for my time apart from you with plenty of steps. Yessir, good old fashioned cardio from the dining room to the pantry. All day, every day!” Pressing the icon is my last chance at victory, but it is a sure bet. It has to be. I wait with anticipation to see the number of steps I have taken on average over the last forgotten months. Absolute proof will soon be available. Just because I have been living in the same basic outfit of black leggings from Target and a Disney World sweatshirt does not mean I have let myself go. Spinning, spinning the program’s information loading. Why is this taking so long?

“Patience,” I remind myself. It has been several what, days? Weeks? Since I updated my app. That seems strange until I realize that recently the only thing I have really used my Fitbit for is to alert me to incoming texts about my friend’s new kitten. She is adorable after all, so playful and sweet. The little black and orange calico loves to play and hunt birds through the window and chase the little red light of the laser pointer.

“I could watch those videos of her for hours,” I smile to no one in particular. I look back at the phone just in time to see the app finish loading and wheeze across the finish line to complete data upload. There, on the screen is the proof. Pupils dilate, pulse quickens, adrenaline pumps. Triumphant music plays in my mind. The battle is over before it began. Victory is claimed as I squeak out, “That’s it? That can’t be right. My device has to be broken!” I hyperventilate as I realize there are no 10,000 steps per day between the dining room desk and kitchen. There aren’t even 1,200 steps per day. And that stupid, dusty Bowflex now actually seems prideful. Seeing me here in my defeat, it actually seems to be gloating. The great beast knew I would return. The great beast knew I would be vanquished. Completely. Bowflex deals the death blow of our battle without losing a spec of dust.

Thoughts of tearing it apart in anger and moving it to the trash race across my mind. After all, gloating is wrong and dismantling it would teach it a lesson. Silently, Bowflex reminds me of one very important fact. It is very heavy and I am now woefully out of shape. In defeat I turn with slumped shoulders to face my truth. I have been ignoring an important relationship. While its victory is complete, so is its forgiveness. Bowflex’s tentacles drop imperceptibly, now ready to embrace an old friend. I put down the phone and the rest of the carrot, wipe off the red and black bench and accompanying black rods, swallow my pride and begin the road back to dress pants and “outside”. The videos of my friend’s kitten will have to wait.

Yes friends, the vaccines and school busses are rolling toward that long awaited day. That day when we have our beloved students in front of us, in person again. The simple good news is we will look out on our classrooms to see why we are there. A sea of young, impressionable faces looking to us to continue to guide them through this, what is hopefully the end game of a long battle. We will be able to smell the musty books, hear the chalk squeak on the boards, and listen to the complaints of our students live, with no zoom glitch. Our hearts will be filled with joy and perhaps our eyes with tears as we walk through our schools again. Hallways will be busy. Lunchrooms will smell like baloney and cheese. It will be right. It will be a glorious reunion with people we have seen everyday for an entire year only in little boxes on our computers. We will prepare with safety measures, we will decide what bulletin boards should look like, we will determine how to best serve our students. And, as we open for in person instruction, we have to face the terrible truth that perhaps we have another battle on our hands. Are you ready for it?

And the Child Will Lead Them

By pszcz | February 12, 2021

All I heard was, “Beep Beep!” and then I felt the blur of breeze as she rode by on her scooter. It was early in the morning, before school. There she was with her sister in the front lobby of the school. They were doing tricks and showing off for their friends. Each friend lined up to try her hand at the prized scooter. They were playing. They were having fun. It was great.

Wait. A scooter inside the school? What the heck? How is that great? She could have hurt someone! How can I have been so irresponsible? I just walked away thinking it was great? I have yet to mention that the scooter was actually provided by the school for exactly that purpose. There was a competition earlier in the week for students who came dressed in the best costume. The prize was the right to travel between classes on a scooter or tricycle for a week. In short, the students who won, won the right to play.

When explaining to her friend that she won the scooter, she replied with the seasoned tease of a long time friend, “You? On a scooter? Are you sure that’s a great idea? You don’t exactly have a great track record with stuff like that.”

Our student’s response? “Wow! Get hit by ONE car and all of a sudden you are labeled a hazard for life.”* Ripples of laughter moved through her assembled classmates. Some laughed so hard they wheezed and had tear stains on their masks.

Yes. They were all in their masks. Yes, there was reasonable distance between them. And they were playing. And it was beautiful. High school students were playing. But didn’t they know we are in the middle of a pandemic? But didn’t they know we are a country divided as never before? But didn’t they know about all of the fights for justice? But didn’t they know that there are people who are hurting? Of course they knew. And they played anyway. And it was beautiful. Laughing, smiling, joking are beautiful things.

Later, in class, we find other groups of students learning about immune systems. Sitting in their masks and separated by plexiglass dividers, or by computer screen, they are working together. It is a smallish class. They are focused on their tasks and getting the job done, fully engaged in the serious business of the day. They are also joking, laughing, teasing each other with an ease that only comes from long term relationships. Including students who were streaming.

Classroom Student says to At Home Student, “Hey, At Home Student! Those tik tok lights make you look like you are in a Halloween movie, pick a different color!”

At Home Student fires back with, “You’re just jealous that my classroom looks like a ‘70s disco and yours looks like a……… classroom!” All the students, at home and in person, giggled and continued to work on molecular recognition and innate immunity homework. Under the masks or behind the screens, there are smiles.

Life in the faculty room looks markedly different. Colleagues are stressed and showing it. Colleagues are sad and frightened and showing it. There is mask fatigue (by me in particular). Although admittedly, I haven’t had to wear any more make up than eyeliner since August since no one can see the majority of my face so, that’s nice.

There is general malaise from being cooped up. When Colleague mentions she went out to a restaurant, the response will either be unbridled envy of being able to eat something Door Dash didn’t bring or concerns about the potential ramifications of it all.

There is stress from not being able to run our classes the way we know is best under normal circumstances. When Colleague occasionally mentions she managed to run her lesson as planned AND it was a rousing success the response in the faculty room resembles the wide eyed wonder of when a four year old says, “Tell me the story again, Mommy!”, as if our teacher just spun a tale of unicorns and fairy dust.

Colleagues are trying their best in the grand scheme of things, trying to keep the big picture in view; curricula, benchmarks, health and safety of adults and students. My colleagues are all working very hard to keep things as normal as possible while admitting things simply aren’t normal. We are working under impossible circumstances in an ever changing whirlpool of chaos. Changes and uncertainty at work swirl around us everyday, lurking just out of sight and threatening to destroy a lesson we have already changed 942 times in order to fit the “latest guidance” and the “latest schedule” like Godzilla destroyed Tokyo. We try our best to be the anchor for our students, not an albatross. Adding to our bedlam tapestry, at home, we all have our own family worries; parents who are sick, kids who are fearful, friends who are struggling. It is a lot.

Students have a lot too. They have concerns about parents. They have concerns about sick friends or friends that have seemingly vanished over the last year. Or they may feel they will never be allowed out of their ’70s disco again. They have concerns about many of the same things we do. And they have less control over those things than even we do. They are still playing. In many cases, they have become the anchor for us. They are choosing to laugh, many of us are choosing to focus on all the stresses of life and not the little wonders of a scooter or tik tok lights.

* She’s fine.

Teachers Have a Great Job, But There Are Things We Can’t Say……..

By pszcz | April 16, 2020

Everyday, thousands of good teachers go to work to teach the children of the nation and to change the world. We waltz through our days with smiles on our collective faces; beautiful little birds tweeting about the room, flowers in full bloom, harps playing and angels singing. Our students, bright and shiny and eager to learn greet us at the door, well rested, groomed, fed, and prepared for another day of learning. As their minds open to the tremendous value of cultures long ago dispatched to the annals of history like the Phoenicians, the Babylonians, and the Clevelanders, you can hear the greats being played in the background, Mozart, Bach, Clapton. (It is a well known fact that listening to Eric Clapton makes kids infinitely smarter.)

When the day is over, students file out of the room in a controlled rush that resembles Black Friday deals on 60 inch LED TVs. As they sprint past us, they thank us for imparting such knowledge as will change the course of their lives. Ok, some of them grunt at us as they leave. A few even make eye contact but we know what they mean.

After school our students enter many different worlds. Some go home to loving families who eagerly await their arrivals, some will go to less stable homes. Others, when they are old enough to work, will begin internships to gain college training, some go to jobs where they will engage in important career training. They learn things like:

other people’s children are often as easy to care for as a hungry wolverine
grown adults, despite being grown adults, are not always pleasant when ordering food at a drive through
you can get a great tan life guarding, providing you are life guarding outside

Still other kids will be engaging in what we like to call “extra” or “co” curricular activities. These are often activities that students engage in at an early age, perhaps as young as first grade, in order to learn how to:

work as a team
enjoy the company of others who hold a common interest as the student
gain a greater depth of understanding of a particular topic or sport
endure the maniacal rantings of people on the sidelines (we often call them “cheering parents”)
learn to become strong in body and mind as they compete in what appears to be a rebirth of the Roman Circus
most importantly, pad their resume in order to become President of the World Council on Everything

As teachers, we have a wonderful job. It is a privilege. We get to change the world. As with many career paths, teachers have to take the good with the bad. Also as with many professions, there is A LOT that teachers want to say but can’t. (OK, perhaps don’t.) There are many reasons we don’t say anything, decorum, professionalism, fear of being burned at the stake by parents masquerading as angry villagers. For whatever reason, we don’t say them, but this blog is here to offer a little peak at what those things are.

What in the world are you people doing out there?

By pszcz | April 2, 2020

“Personal should remain personal and professional should remain professional. Set and maintain boundaries.” This is in the “So You Want To Become a Teacher” class 101 manual. None the less, it came home in an email during our corona-cation. For good teachers, this is an odd email. For good teachers, this is something so obvious that it does not need mentioning. Yes, certain standards of decorum are looser right now. Yes. I am still teaching, in a sweatshirt and without make up. All in all, I look like I would on a regular dress down day except that now I probably have a Baby Ruth candy bar in my hand. While most teachers I know (and they are all good teachers) are still killing themselves trying to figure out how to deliver curriculum at a high standard under less than ideal conditions, it is also true that most teachers I know have relaxed their standards of appearance or snacking in the classroom. This is of course, because the classroom is now the kitchen, or the living room, or the basement. Given the changes in our circumstances and the mostly unspoken agreement about professional standards during this time, this email still begs the question,

WHAT THE FA LA LA ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING OUT THERE? Are you actively making margaritas during your google meet? Have you decided that meets are clothing optional? What. The. Heck? I can hear how the conversation with HR or the Union Rep goes now:

“Mrs. Neidelbaum, we have had a few phone calls from concerned parents regarding your classroom during the virus mandated Corona-cation.”

“Oh, let me guess, too much work for the little princes and princesses? I swear, all these kids do is complain about how hard things are and how much work they have to do! You know in my day, we respected our teachers and if the teacher assigned something…”

“Uh, no. Let me stop you right there. Actually, Mrs. Neidelbaum, the parents are concerned that you are adding tequila to your “coffee mug” while you are online with students and yelling, ‘Booze calories don’t count in quarantine!’ while you attempt a lesson on the merits of cursive handwriting.”

“I never said any such thing! You know how kids can be, they are bored and lying!”

“Mrs. Neidelbaum, we have multiple parent witnesses and one or two of them even screenshot a post from your social media page where you, and I quote, ‘are enjoying class so much more know that the booze is flowing’ end quote. Here is another post of yours. In this one, there are two beers on your kitchen island — during school hours, when you were to be online with your students. The quote you posted along with the picture was ‘Celebrating St. Patrick’s Day, the quarantine way’. I am sure you can see why we are concerned.”

“No, I can’t. I am home and when I am home, I can do as I like. This is still a free country and I am a consenting adult and I have first amendment rights, or whatever amendment covers drinking at 9:00AM at home. You try dealing with these spoiled little ones all day! Do you have any idea how hard this is? And the parents, all they do is complain, complain, complain! Do you know they actually want me to continue teaching their kids spelling during this? How the heck am I supposed to do that? Is there some magic spelling fairy that will come down and make up some online game or something that will allow kids to learn spelling from their computers?”

“Actually, that already exists. Our school has a subscription to it. Your department head is the one who ordered it. For you.”

Honestly people, when you are interviewing for a job, they will ask you the following quesiton: “What makes you a good fit for us here at Every Single School District, USA?” You should begin with, “Well, I have never been hammered on school time and I actually like teaching kids.”

The fact that this email and probably hundreds like it have gone out across the country is disheartening to say the least. Teachers! You are good at what you do. The venue is immaterial. We have no right to tell our students to “toughen up” and “use your head” if we are going to spend our days, while STILL EMPLOYED, being soft and making stupid decisions. You have a responsibility to be the steady place in this storm. You have the opportunity now, perhaps more than ever, to make a difference in a student’s world.