My bookcase also broke this year.
So did a lamp and a picture frame. Though we are still months from the end of the year, by my very rough estimates from a largely imperfect student-run checkout system, over fifty books are missing from my classroom library. Nevermind the ones that have come back with cracked spines, dog-eared pages, water-damaged covers. Even though a handful of books were donated or bought used or even collected as castoffs from other teachers’ libraries, this stings. It stings my wallet. And it stings my heart.
I spend at least $50 a month building my classroom library. It is my choice but only superficially. Not only do schools not have budgets for much of anything anymore, leading professional development gurus like Kelly Gallagher actually recommend that teachers set aside money every month to build their own libraries.
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I also buy school supplies, classroom decorations, reading corner furniture, prizes, snacks, and treats (after filling out copious permission slips to do so). In short, I spend a small fortune each year just to do my job. If you are an educator, this is nothing new or surprising. It is expected. Still, it stings.
The financial sting isn’t where it hurts the most, though. Things break, things go missing, things are purposefully damaged by students who either were never taught better or who were taught better and do it anyway.
You create a review game and set up an incentive to have students practice vocabulary, only to discover that more students learned how to game the system, cheating you out of Jolly Ranchers and themselves out of learning, than those who played the game in earnest.
You are told that standardized testing should come with mints, there are no good candy flavors left, the books in the class library are borning, IKEA pillows are cheap, and no teacher deserves a Christmas present because they’re all overpaid anyway.
That is a bad day.
They happen.
They happen a lot.
Then, there are the really bad days. The times where you are pulled in so many directions by so many different committees and standards and frameworks and assessments it seems that you’ll physically snap. No matter how many extra hours you put in, all of that time and effort is rarely met with thanks; instead, more work is doled out by administration and questions of your competence are asked by families. Supports are put in place, counseling sessions are offered, parent contact is made, every extra intervention that currently exists and some that you dreamt up yourself are tried out, and still, the students struggle. Days when you realize just how imperfect that system is are really bad days.
Nothing compares to the worst of days, though. Backpacks stay in lockers, no hats or hoods are allowed, Halloween costumes are distant memories, drills take place in darked classrooms with a clump of thirty students cowering in the farthest corner as the police officer jingles the lock to see if anyone will yelp, only to realize that no amount of practicing can make up for the day when the lockdown isn’t a drill and there really is a weapon in school. If it’s not violence, it’s bullying, it’s illness, it’s divorce, it’s drugs, it’s suicide. Those are the worst of days.
We teach through it all.
But what I want to remind you of, dear teacher with the broken bookshelf and the battered heart, are all of the other days. Because those days, those are the days that matter, those are the days that make this job worth doing, worth investing in, worth giving your heart to.
Remember that moment when the student who struggled perpetually looked you square in the eye with a glimmer of understanding. Remember that moment when a student said something so funny, so witty, so true about the world, about the president, or about some other topic far beyond their years that you had to turn your head and bite the inside of your cheek so as not to laugh out loud and blow your cover. Remember when a student who is the first to grab or take or never return finally utters a simple please or thank you.
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Remember that moment when a boy with autism handed you a Christmas card with one messy line scrawled across the inside and watched you read every single word before dashing away. Remember that moment when you heard something so ugly you couldn’t believe it actually came out of someone’s mouth, yet before you could intervene, a group of students swooped in to stop the ugliness and pick up the broken pieces of their peer’s heart. Those are the moments that matter.
You will foster a love of reading. You will grow an appreciation for numeracy. You will teach current events, scientific principles, technology skills, fitness concepts, common sense. You will shape lives. You may never be thanked, you may never have a student walk back into your classroom after a decade or two or three, you may never truly understand the worth of those countless hours, but you will make a difference.
It is true. We are living in the midst of a mental health and an opioid crisis. Students are homeless, students are hungry. Families are less present, no matter the income level. This is the era of busy, where every minute of every day is scheduled to the max for students, and homework seems to be an afterthought if it hasn’t been banned outright. There are budget shortages and teacher shortages. These are tough times to teach. Maybe the very toughest.
That is why, teacher whose broken bookcase post went viral, we need you. We need teachers like you. Teachers who understand that after years of studying the science of teaching, it is still very much the art of teaching that matters. Teachers who pour every ounce of themselves into their work even on days, weeks, months, or years when the thanks never come.
You matter.
I matter.
We all matter.
Of course, I understand if you must go. Everyone has a breaking point and goodness knows that our educational system is flawed. Every educational system is flawed. We are teaching humans, not robots. We are building futures, not machines. It is also true that not everyone can teach, should teach, or wants to teach.
But if you are a teacher who is having a bad day, a really bad day, or the worst day, I challenge you to remember all the other days. To remember all the lives that you touch even if you never fully witness the fruits of your labor. To remember that teachers all over the country and all around the world have your back. Bookcases will break from time to time. So will your heart. But I promise you, the bad days get better and there is no greater career.
Thank you for being a teacher, broken bookcase and all.
The post that this is in response to can be found on Julie’s page here.
So Tell Me…How do you keep going on your bad days at work?
PS – Vicki from Make Smarter Decisions and I started a Facebook page and group called Teachers Money Talk as a space for educators to come and talk about the ways in which money intersects with our lives. Join us!
Wow Penny. I’m not a teacher but this nearly had me in tears. I’m so glad the world has a teacher like YOU as well. I work in healthcare, oncology, and it too can be thankless and utterly soul destroying at times. But on the bad days I do the same, and remember the good days. Beautiful post, and I hope it will inspires many people for many years on their bad days.
Thank you for the work that you do. I can’t even imagine, BE!
I couldn’t read the post that went viral not the response as I do not have a Facebook account. But your post made me want to weep. Both of my parents were educators and I substituted during the years my children were in school. The old saying is that those who can’t do, teach. And it makes me mad every time I hear it. Very few who can can do ‘the thing’ can teach ‘the thing’. Why? Because teaching is a science and an art and a thing of the heart. It’s a talent that not everyone possesses. I could jump up on my soapbox about how teachers are underpaid, underfunded, lacking in support from their administrations, parents and the general public, underappreciated. I could rant about teachers being forced to spend more time teaching to standardized tests rather than teaching our children how to think for themselves and learn on their own and giving them the skill sets that would allow them to do so. I could jump up on my soapbox…but I won’t. Instead I’ll simply offer a heartfelt thank you to all of the good, hardworking, talented teachers out there who continue to give our students their best while facing such challenging roadblocks. Thank you.
Sigh. Autocorrect.
….nor the response….
I really appreciate your kind words. And I’m optimistic that we will sort out this standardized testing obsession of ours eventually!
You did it to us again Penny. Both simultaneously making us well up and also(to me) making our blood boil. My mother was a teacher, and after she passed, my dad married our 4th grade teacher. So this tale is one I am well aware of. As Mr. Groovy is fond of saying “I love you in the most honorable way.” I’m so glad that this world has/have teachers like you in it. JD
Wow. Your words mean a lot, Jeff. I’m glad to be a teacher. Truly. I can’t imagine doing anything else. It makes me so profoundly sad at the thought of losing anyone from the profession, but I certainly understand where the original poster was coming from.
Powerful stuff, Penny. I have two things to say in response to your post. First, I tell the folks who work with and for me that this job is not who they are, it is what they do so that they can be who they are. I think that notion is a little easier to live in the practice of corporate law than in teaching, but there is some truth to be had in it still.
Second, we all have teachers in our lives who made a difference, if not THE difference. For me it was Miss Williams, in the first grade, who saw in my actions a kid who was trying to figure out how to learn and not just another kid who acted out. When I went away to college I found Miss Williams (she had retired) and thanked her for loving me into submission. And then Mrs O’Bryan my senior year of high school who called me out for not giving my best effort and in her disappointment, I found the motivation that has carried me through my professional life. I’m still in touch with her and never miss an opportunity to tell her what she has meant to me, and by extension, to my family.
I tell this story because every teacher out there who is over burdened, under paid, disrespected by parents and administrators, and still does their best to equip our children to live in this crazy world, every one of you will have dozens of people, just like me, who never would have had the wonderful lives we have had if we had not come under your influence.
So, for all of those kids, past, present and future, who have, do and will need you, I say “Thanks” to anyone and everyone who has picked up this mantle and worn it with pride. Thanks for the sacrifice and for your understanding. It has, does and will make the world, and the people in it, better.
What in the world is wrong with our country in that we are incapable of properly funding quality education and paying our teachers what they deserve?
Wow, so many thoughts right now. But this is the line that absolutely sums it up…” But I promise you, the bad days get better and there is no greater career.” 29 years in now – and back in the classroom and I love it. Is it perfect? Not at all. But I’ve already had kids thank me for coming to teach in their teacher’s place since she has gone out on maternity leave. I could be home but this was the right thing to do. And yes, there are definitely a ton of issues and this woman needs support from parents and administration. I hope she reconsiders or changes schools. We need every teacher we can get!
I feel the same way, Vicki. I was so sad reading her post. We’ve all had those days! I want to tell her to hang in there, that it’s worth it. But I also understand why people feel they need to leave.
Hey Penny – from a material perspective what can parents to help out most? Should I give gift cards to Target so that my kids’ teachers can get supplies? Donate books that my kids like to read? Donate cash to the school? Volunteer my time in the classroom? Something else?
Thank you, and all teachers, for everything you do!! <3
PS – Sending this to my sister who is not only a teacher but married to one as well! 🙂
That is so kind of you to share the post! And of course, your thanks mean the world.
So many hugs.
More than a few of my close friends or their family are teachers too, and I thank everything every day that you and they’re suited to the jobs and do their best – they’re literally helping to ensure our future in a way that I could not do. I make it a point to send thank you notes to my old high school teachers because my old elementary school and middle school teachers are largely gone now, in hopes that they know how valued they are. I hope that more people start to realize how important teaching is to our society.
I have saved every note and card I’ve ever received. I still have a poster hanging on my wall from student teaching ELEVEN years ago. Those words mean the world to us.
Penny, this post made me tear up. I’ve always had teaching in the back of my mind as a possible career, but I honestly am not sure that I’m strong enough for it. Thank you for all that you do to make a difference in your students’ lives even it seems a horribly thankless task. Teaching future generations is the most important work a society can do, and it’s criminal that we’re not doing everything we can to support you and the other people who take on that responsibility.
Holy moly that was a waterfall of emotions! I remember our school district (in one of the wealthiest cities in the world) ran out of paper for the entire school year. I mention this story a lot because it perfectly and quickly illustrates the ridiculousness of our priorities.
And you think it only lasted a short while before we got paper again? NO. We didn’t use paper for the rest of the year. Everything was copied by hand via scantrons and my god were the teachers sad!!! They had to copy things and they only had their teacher’s copy (of which we passed around. Grrrrrrrr.) No student or teacher deserves that, what the heck. (This was in 2007-2008.) Thanks for being a teacher Penny and sticking in there.
Not a teacher – but a product of some fabulous teachers (it was my 6th grade teacher who sent me down the rabbit hole of environmentalism to begin with). You all are doing some damn important work, and I am grateful to you all ❤️
Wow – this is an amazing post. Sadly, this post isn’t anything new for me as I am the lone person in my family that is not an educator. My sisters and brother-in-law all have had various stints in education and have shared similar experiences to some degree. I hate hearing people ignorantly say “teachers are paid well for the days worked” or “man it must be nice to have summer offs” for every single reason you highlighted in this article. The blood, sweat, and tears that passionate teachers pour into their classroom is amazing. To me, even if you can impact one or two students with your actions, it is worth it. The lows have to be lows, but the few highs you have must give off an amazing feeling. Don’t let the bad days keep you down. Just remember about the few lives that you can touch each day and how you can potentially change the course for so many people with your hard work, sweat, and sometimes, tears.
Bert
Oh Penny, this post. I’m so glad you teach. I wish we valued you, education, and children properly.
Both my wife and I are teachers and while we knew that we spent well over the allotted $250 educator tax deduction, we had never totaled the receipts until we became homeowners looking to maximize our deductions during tax season.
We were beyond horrified to realize that we spent two thousand dollars (!!!!) subsidizing my wife’s music classroom: boxes of paper for copies, repair parts for instruments, new music, and other essential costs of an instrumental performing group. Shortly after that realization, she was told that her students would need to perform at a dinner honoring community members who have donated at least $500 to her district. Not only were her own financial contributions ignored, she received no additional stipend or pay. What a kick in the teeth.
We’ve started asking administrators for donation receipts when we bring in items for student use, because that’s what those things are: donations to the school. Not “the cost of doing business”, not “part of the job”, and not “what’s necessary to be excellent.” That practice has gone a long way to start conversations about the culture around classroom spending and slowly flipping the script from entitled to grateful.
And, guess what? We’re on the donor reception invite list this year. Very surreal to go from an administrator laughing at the idea of reimbursing those expenses to a board member presenting her with a plaque in a year! It’s all in the marketing, I guess.
Either way, thank you for the reminding us that the students are who matter, in the end. It does get better, although sadly, sometimes it has to get worse before it gets better.