This Is How We’re Going To Do This School Year

I’m writing this as a full-time working mom of a four year old and two year old. I currently teach elementary school in a nearby district and will be responsible for a preschool drop off and then a daycare drop off prior to arriving at school each day. I think it’s important to acknowledge that each individual’s situation is different and my ideas may not all work for you. Take what works for you. My intention is to create community amongst teachers, moms, and women during this difficult time.

We’ll Make This A Series

I started prewriting for this blog post and realized that there are so many things I’ve learned that I want to share, so I’ll write this in parts because afternoon toddler naps and Peppa Pig episodes will keep my crew occupied for about two hours tops if I’m lucky.

1. Zoom Out

I’m exceptionally forthcoming with the fact that I’ve seen a therapist for the last fifteen plus years. I wholeheartedly believe that therapy is so beneficial, especially to those of us serving others all day.

Once, when I was sitting in a plush velvet chair in my therapist’s office, crying about how I just wasn’t a good enough teacher, she said, “Sarah? Who designated you to be the savior of Chesterfield Township?”

ME. I did. Because, for the first part of my life, I drank all the Kool-Aid society and my mother and the families and school administration served me and I kept trying to give and give and give. I was trying to be a social worker, teacher, counselor, therapist, mother, and so many other things to children who are not mine to save.

You are not the savior of your new class.

You are not the first or last person who will ever teach them something. So take that pressure off yourself.

Society will tell you you are. You will see memes which tell you that all children need one person to believe in them and stories of teachers who taught in driveways during the pandemic and have parents who send emails at eleven p.m. looking for immediate responses.

Zoom out.

Instead of starting September feeling like you’re going to puke, thinking, “I have to get everyone to grade level,” or “I have to make sure all thirty five of my students are engaged during every minute of the day,” or “Every lesson I teach has to be aligned with five standards,” think, “Simply by arriving in this classroom today and providing my students with a safe space to learn and be, I am giving these children a great gift. They are witnessing a responsible, compassionate adult who values education. And most adults can barely manage a handful of children, let alone a classroom-full.”

That is the top objective. Every day.

Of course, it’s important we deliver the curriculum, but for most teachers I know, that’s not the difficult part. It’s managing everything else that we never could have imagined sitting in our educational psychology classes in college.

So, for the next ten months, when you feel the anxiety creeping in when red-flagged emails pour in, you say to yourself, “I am here. I am showing up for them. I am giving to them.”

Think back to your own teachers and if they’re singlehandedly responsible for the individual you are at forty.

I don’t fault Mrs. McAtee, my third grade teacher, for not teaching me enough about the conflict in Afghanistan. She taught me how to do long division, rocked out some reading groups, and her son came to perform magic shows. Job well-done. I’ve been reading about Afghanistan on my own.

Mr. Nye, my fourth grade teacher, had a list on the board where we had to write our own name if we were “being bad.” We scribbled on dry-erase maps all day and I daydreamed about my wedding to Stephen Duncan. I’d put money on the fact that Al Nye wasn’t losing sleep at night worrying about me passing the MEAP test.

My point is this.

You are a small part of the collective influence on all your students. It is not up to you to save them from everything they’ve experienced prior to knowing you and everything they’ll experience after leaving you in June. You are giving them a great gift simply by welcoming them each day and inviting them to learn with you.

2. You’ll Lose At The Comparison Game Every Time

This is especially important if you are a new(er) teacher.

Whenever you start comparing yourself to other teachers, stop. Go back to the first item and remind yourself that you’re showing up and you’re giving your class a classroom community in which to learn.

I play this nasty comparison game with myself all the time.

At my school, Liz, who teaches second grade, is such a trendy dresser. She always has super cute shoes and outfits and is funny, to boot. Sarah, my teaching partner and Carkenord soulmate, is a champion multitasker. She can have her entire class working while she rewires her computer and folds report cards. Kristen Black made my lesson plan template in five minutes, Angie has beautiful anchor charts, Jen’s classroom always smells like apples and is so clean and Sarah D. sings songs to her students when they transition activities. Melissa is always the first person to help in an emergency and Amy Q. has the most organized computer files I’ve ever seen. I once asked her about a student she had two years prior and she did a rhythmic click-click and accessed some kind of unicorn file on him.

This is my not-so-trendy shirt from Kohl’s. I can’t multitask like Sarah can because my brain doesn’t work like that. I don’t like making anchor charts, I simply say, “You have a three minute chit-chat and bathroom break and then we’re going to start some math, Team,” and my room more often smells like fifth grade boys than apples. I don’t have organized computer files on my students, but I can tell you their parents’ names, middle names, birthday month, hobbies, prior teachers, prior schools, favorite subjects, etc. When Melissa sends an email about helping a staff member in crisis, I always send a student down with cash and tell her “Thank you for always stepping up.”

My point is this: Stop trying to compete in every event. I’m a really great reader and writer. I’m a shit organizer. I’m really great at public speaking. I make shit bulletin boards. And that’s okay. We all bring different things to the table. Do not expect yourself to be blowing all things school out of the water. If you know you struggle with technology, find a technology buddy and tell her that you’re cool with being the copy person.

Just stop comparing yourself to the gold medalists in every teacher event. You can’t be the gold medal science lesson teacher, the gold medal Daily Five medalist, and the most fashionable person in the joint.

Identify your strengths and remind yourself you’re the gold medalist of those.

3. Your Classroom Doesn’t Need to Look Like Starbucks

Here is what.

If you find joy in decorating your classroom, rock it out.

By all means. Decorate the daylights out of it.

Have a reading bathtub and let your students read in the damn thing. I truly don’t care.

But if you’re like me, and you start sweating when you think of hanging things on that God-forsaken white cinderblock and coordinating door decorating every holiday, DON’T. Do this within reason. Put up some things that speak to you and move on.

Your classroom does not have to feature hundreds of dollars worth of thematic posters and a pantone color palette.

(I acknowledge that teachers in lower elementary and preschool grades rely heavily upon things in their classroom for teaching purposes. But for the rest of us, hanging a million purple pom poms from your ceiling doesn’t make you a more invested teacher. Spend the time doing something you’d enjoy.)

Your value as a teacher is not related to how “cute” your room is.

And, also. If you truly enjoy having a beautifully decorated classroom, don’t put the insane expectation on yourself to have it all ready for the first day of school. Give yourself time to get settled. You don’t necessarily need beautiful character education posters wallpapering your room on Day 1. Put them up on a day when you’re in the mood to.

I hope these three reminders serve you, even in just a small way.

I’ll be posting more this week. Enjoy your summer Sunday night if you’re still on summer vacation and if you’re heading in to work tomorrow, remind yourself that you’re not the savior of the classroom and you’re a human being too.