By Tom
It looks like we'll have to accept a new reality next year. There will be fewer teachers, teaching more kids, for less money and with less support. There's no other way to look at it. It's grim, bleak and discouraging.
Many of us tried to mitigate what's happening right now. We blogged, lobbied and wrote to our representatives, trying to protect what was precious to us. And to some extent we were successful. The National Board bonus, for example, seems to have survived. But overall, this legislative session was a horrible disaster for education in Washington. Things will be different next year. And beyond. And by different, I mean worse.
So what do we do?
I certainly don't have all the answers, but I do have a few suggestions:
1. Let's be patient with ourselves. There will be more kids in our rooms next year and we know that class size matters. We can't teach 31 kids as well as we can teach 27 kids. We will be walking around, halfway through a math lesson, and find students that clearly don't know what they're doing. We'll get them straightened out, but we can't go around beating ourselves up for realities beyond our control. Most of us are already working as hard as we can. Working as hard as we can, but with a larger class, is going to be different.
2. Let's support each other. People are going to be stressed out next year. Nerves will be frayed. They already are, for crying out loud. We're all going to need help coping with new problems. Teaching is a stressful job even in the best of times. Now is not the time to complain about the mess in the bookroom or the quality of snacks your colleagues bring in to the faculty room. Now is the time to listen, to try to laugh and to support each other.
3. Let's stop blaming our leaders. Nobody in your district administration wants you to suffer under larger class sizes with less support. Nor do the people in Olympia. Seriously. It is painful to make tough decisions when so much is at stake. These people did not wish these problems on us and they are trying to be as fair and as far-sighted as they can be. That doesn't mean they don't need our "help" in making these decisions. We need to continue to fight for what we know is important, but we need to do it respectfully; without rancor.
4. Let's remember why we do this for a living. Schools do not exist in order for you and me to collect paychecks. We're preparing the next generation, people who had nothing to do with the mess we find ourselves in. If we come to work with chips on our shoulders, they will fall off onto our students.
5. Let's remember this. It will end someday and things will get better. I ride my bike to work everyday, and I've learned over the years that there's only one thing better than riding off to school on a beautiful, sunny morning. And that's riding off to school on a beautiful, sunny morning after a week of dreary, rainy mornings.
We'll get through this. We're tough. We're resilient. We're teachers.
#3 is so difficult for me right now. I want with every fiber of my being to believe that about my leaders. My rational side says it must be true. My emotional side is on the floor throwing a tantrum. My optimistic side agrees cuts are being made based on broader best interest. My pessimistic side is watching as line items in budgets are made based on singular pet interests.
It has been a very rough Monday in my neck of the woods.
These are wise words. In particular, I think remembering what (and whom) we do this for is important. We can feel like victims, or we can take steps to use obstacles as learning experiences at the same time as we try to make changes. We’re allowed to be tired and angry, but in the end, we need to act in the best interest of the young people we are working for.
Thanks for your insightful comment, Nancy. You’re so right about collaborative decision-making, which is why Terese’s post last week is so important. Lawmakers need to at least listen to teachers when they make decisions about education. And to do that, we need to speak up. But at the end of the day, when the money just isn’t there, tough decisions have to be made. And like they say, you can’t always get what you want. Speaking of music, Nancy, I left a little treat for my favorite music teacher. Click on the picture of Miles Davis!
Thanks for a very pragmatic and important post, Tom. I am always amazed at how people respond to pretty logical solutions to economic problems in school districts. Any time a school is closed, for example. You can argue that the wrong school was closed, or that parents weren’t given a chance to provide input. But sometimes, when money’s tight, choices must be made–and it’s not helpful to have two hundred parents picketing.
My district has always been at the very lowest rung of the state funding formula. There are schools in Michigan that get twice the per-pupil funding mine does. We made painful cuts for years, and things that other teachers take for granted were never reality in my school (elementary counselors, elementary art teachers, a school nurse– and so on). Running on a bare-bones budget teaches you to be very careful about what you add back: is it more important to lower class size by an average of .4 kids, or hire an art teacher who will give all kids in the building two art lessons each week?
What I wish is that decisions were made collaboratively. But in the meantime, your point #4 is deep wisdom, indeed.