The Danger of Comparing

Harder than I expected.

That is how I would describe the first half of this school year--year four of teaching. When I started the year, I was ready, physically and mentally, to hit the ground running, to have an extraordinary school year with my new group of extraordinary students. A good friend even told me that I sounded more passionate about teaching, and happier in my career, than I ever had before.

Instead, I found myself back at the drawing board, wondering what in the world I had learned in the past three years and why nothing seemed to be working this year.

Now in December, one week before we wrap of this semester and I head home for Christmas, I can look back and say that this is the nature of teaching. One moment I think I have everything figured out; the next moment I'm back at square one.

I've learned some lessons this year. The first is to ask more questions before saying yes. Last year, I agreed to attend a summer workshop. Little did I know that I was actually agreeing to help run a school-wide program. Yikes! The second lesson is that burnout is real. This fall was so busy that for the first two months of the school year, I completely neglected any kind of social life. Never before as a teacher have I been so irresponsible about taking care of myself.  It's as if I forgot I needed people around me, forgot I needed to pause and have fun--forgot that eating dinner in my car is never the best choice! I worked and worked and worked, until the month of November mercifully arrived and everything else was put on hold to celebrate three beautiful weddings.

Ironically, all of this extra work has not made me a better teacher. I have had more days than usual this year where I am just cranky (and unfortunately it's always the students who get the brunt of that). By the time I realized I was burning out, it was too late to recover in any way other than just stopping--letting the papers pile up and the to-call list lengthen. All I could do was grit my teeth and make it until Thanksgiving break.

Please don't misunderstand me. This school year has not been a total failure. The students are learning; many of them seem to enjoy coming to language arts class; I have a handful of them, as usual, who consistently brighten my day and remind me why I love this job. It's just been a harder road than I expected it to be when I set out with big dreams this August.

This past Friday afternoon as my third period class was "watching" Channel One News (but really whispering and passing notes behind my back as I erased the board), I thought about something I had not considered before, about a way that I could reframe this discouragement. Maybe instead of being upset that it's Christmas and I feel like my classes still haven't clicked into that place of learning community, I should be grateful that I can stand at the board and perceive exactly what is happening behind me. My past two school years--the standard against which this year is falling so miserably short--may be clouded in my memory. It is quite possible that last year and the year before were not as perfect as I seem to remember, and that a heightened awareness of the struggles of teaching doesn't necessarily mean I am slipping as a teacher. It may instead be a sign of growth. And isn't growth what I want?