It’s the end of the 1st marking period in the oh-so-odd
world of high school, and I am completely exhausted. This job of acting “in
loco parentis” (emphasis on the loco) to 150 kids or so takes a lot out of a
person, both physically and emotionally. With essays and benchmark tests to
read, this turned into a 60 hour work week.
When I finally get home each day, it’s to a smaller, yet
scarcely less formidable group of kids - soccer practice, dinners, homework
supervision, baths, and stories -perhaps my exhaustion is understandable.
Nevertheless, it worries me when it feels like it’s getting worse by the week.
I could reluctantly chalk it up to age. After all, when I
started teaching, I was considerably younger. But I certainly do everything in
my power to maintain my stamina, so I don’t think it’s simply a matter of
passing years. There must be more to it.
When I went into education, teachers were complaining about
the additional paper work burdens that accompanied the more-inclusive classroom
movement. Frankly, we had no idea what lay ahead. Nowadays, whatever happens,
whatever the home situation, the ultimate responsibility for every kid comes
down to the teacher who balances that child’s needs against the needs of 149
others. Somehow, we’re supposed to juggle our roles as mentors, coaches,
disciplinarians, detailed record keepers, cheerleaders,
friendly-kick-in-the-backsiders, and so much more to so many more. We’ve got to
maintain equanimity in the face of volatile teenage hormones, inspire reluctant
readers, keep every parent informed (even when they change phone numbers
without telling the school), and offer students multiple ways to master the
material and multiple chances to display that mastery.
Our step-pay increases have been frozen for three years, but
our responsibilities have not remained similarly static.
We work in windowless buildings with faulty HVAC, arriving
long before dawn , and leaving as the sun sinks towards the horizon.
Come to think of it, maybe exhaustion is a reasonable response.
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