Why can’t teachers just be perfect?
Tags: Happiness, Humanity, Children, Learning, Education

Why Can’t Teachers Just Be Perfect?

Oh yeah, because they are human

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

For over a decade now, I have heard from many types of parents:

The highly involved to the almost non-existent

The helicopter parents and the momma bears

The seemingly wonderful happy parents (a rarity but this mystical unicorn of a parent does exist, I swear)

The always angry single parents who “always” have “too much” on their plates to “worry” about (I am one of those)

One thing they all have in common. They want the perfect teachers (their own idea of perfect — mind you, not based on reality at all) to teach their kids.

Guess what, that does not exist. If it did, well then Jesus’s second coming came early. Oh, if only that mystical unicorn did exist… but it does not.

A few novice teachers will try their first few years of teaching, but by the third or even by the fifth year (bless their big hearts) …. They are burnt-out and typically quit teaching altogether or turn into the grumpy old grouchy teacher. I call her “Oscar”, or “Animal” (you know from “The Muppets”?).

A typical day for me — the dedicated teacher who cares — which I can assure from professional and personal experience, it’s 99% of us who choose to teach for the long-haul, because it brings even more meaning into our lives beyond raising our own families.

Now here is a list of comments or “suggestions” parents have either made to me or a colleague in the last 12 plus years:

Why can’t my kid’s teacher do/make/assign/create [insert impossible all-time consuming project that can take months to create, but it needs to be done in 24-hours]?

Why can’t she assign homework every day and for the entire weekend including all school breaks and Summer?! Oh, and then grade it in a day or give the feedback by the end of the week so I can see how my kid is doing? I hate waiting around for the dang progress report cards and report cards, why do they take so much time grading things, can’t they keep up with their work?! I swear they are so lazy!

Why can’t my kid’s teacher make all the cute little projects I see posted on Pinterest by other moms and “teachers”? Is it so hard to hand make cute decorations year-round?

How come teachers don’t call me immediately when my kid: gets a scrap on his knee, gets in an argument with a friend during (anytime a teacher isn’t present — lunch, recess, in the bathroom); they call me when my kid is in serious trouble or sent to the Principal’s office, why can’t they call me before all that happens?!

Hey, why don’t my kid’s teacher immediately call me when he does something right or something good? I cannot remember the last time she called, or left a message, or sent a message via [educational app — e.g., ClassDojo, remind.com, etc.)? When she does, I have to wait a day or a week, or until progress report time to get it to know about it; or the monthly certificate thingy she keeps sending with my kid (what a waste of paper, a certificate, a certificate is for dweebs, my son/daughter isn’t a dweeb)!

Why can’t she make learning always fun for my kid, why does my kid always complain that he learned nothing, and he is always bored; can’t she do her job right? Does she even teach anything to my kid?

Oh my gosh, why does she give so much homework and my kid does not even get it half-the-time and then I must always help him. Isn’t she teaching these kids this stuff before giving them homework on it?! The audacity of that teacher, I am going to complain to the Principal!!

As you can see, the complaints are cyclical, there is no win-win here. Teachers are continually the “bad guy” and nothing we do is “enough”.

Now, if you would like to see things from the teachers’ side, here is a snip-it of my typical day as a teacher. Mind you, I am the teacher that tries hard to do all the things mentioned above of what parents would like teachers to do. So, bear with me here for the “walk in [her] shoes for a mile” part. Feel free to skip this part, if you do not care — which I am betting most of you may not — about my side of the story, no offense taken:

1. Get up at 5 or 5:30 am — if I want a tiny snooze and then rush out the door after.

2. Get materials, prepare lunches, and everything ready for myself and others — daughters — while wolfing down some form of “nutritional” breakfast (e.g. a bagel, a yogurt, a breakfast burrito, etc.)

3. Run to my car carrying and/or rolling all the stuff I’ll need for today’s planned lessons (I typically do this as I have to adjust or modify it, if the previous lesson from the day or the week before didn’t work out, or go as “planned” — side note: it 99% of the time doesn’t go as planned).

4. Pick-up and greet kids individually wishing them good morning handshake of their choice or high-fives or just a wave, up to them, no pressure!

5. Then do a 5–7-minute mini-mindfulness “meditation”; some do it, some don’t. The ones that don’t, they know to sit quietly and begin their writing prompt of the day on the whiteboard (I do this because it helps with our focus and energy, not many teachers think to do this practice).

6. Standing on my feet pretty much most of the day, ignoring my body pretty much 100% of the time, because my focus needs to be on teaching and the supervision of your kids.

7. If I am lucky, I get a 15-minute break to use the bathroom during my “prep” time and during our dedicated thirty-minute lunchtime. For me, lunch is more like 15 minutes, because it takes a while to get the kids seated after passing through the cafeteria line, and to then go upstairs to the faculty lounge to warm up my food, if I didn’t have time to make a sandwich or pack a salad in the morning — teachers have almost zero time to pick-up a lunch.

8. I pick up the kids from recess, with 5 minutes to spare, in case there are hiccups, such as: kids fighting, arguing, cursing someone out, disappearing, cause oops the playground aide forgot to tell someone or even me, they reported one of my students for x-y-z and sent them to the Principal’s office. Then, the aide typically asks, “oh and do you have time to write the referral instead, the next group is coming soon and I got to use the bathroom” (in my head, I am giving this person the eye-roll, saying “yeah, cause I have so much free time during my workday. Sure, part-time buddy, I’ll do part of your job, for you, not a problem”).

9. Teach another 2–3 hours (depending, if it’s Professional Development day — oh yeah, I don’t get paid for those extra hours — cause you know, I am salaried, which my salary amounts to almost $23 dollars an hour, tops — with my Master’s degree and 10+ years of teaching experience).

10. Then, I have to make sure all the kids pack-up everything that is theirs, plus their homework, and their agenda to be signed by a parent to show that the parent verified my communication in their agenda that, “hey your kid has responsibilities when they get home, like homework, or a project, or preparing for a special event coming up, etc.)

11. Supervise dismissal, by walking with students all the way to the bus stop, and then the kid pick-up zone, and look down as far as I can see for the walk-home kids. I do all this simultaneously while trying to keep the kids, who do parent-pick-ups, from getting ran over in the hot, hot, AZ sun during, well nine months out of the year (we get a one-and-half month reprieve during the change of seasons — Spring and Fall).

12. Next, (if not a Professional Development day); grading, checking: anecdotal notes, formative assessments of the day, finish checking homework (for some reason, I still can’t check 30+ papers in one measly 15 minute prep time; which is also my bathroom break — I know right, what a slacker). Send messages, call and email parents for students who had “major” event(s) happen during the day (the good and the not so good). Then, self-reflection time! What lessons worked, what didn’t work, and why. Next, I make either a mental or written note (I need to write it down, most of the time; because once I am home, it’s full mom mode again, and then I’ll forget).

13. Get home put away my stuff in its designated spot –“girls don’t you dare mess with mommy’s papers; you may lose something if you lose my something (joking really joking) — decompress by asking how my girls are, how was their day; etc., etc. Then, start making dinner.

14. After I get myself and my girls ready for bed, I then get some more work done — grading, checking emails from parents, replying to emails, checking on the status of previous questions to administrators for Professional Development, etc. I typically am able to go to sleep between 10 pm or 11 pm or sometimes midnight. The next day, up at 5 am to repeat it all again until Friday!

So that’s my typical whirlwind day — I didn’t even go into all the nuances of what I face in the classroom itself, or the type of emails, and quick convos I have with parents who are dropping off or picking up their kids.

When I speak with parents, “Momma Bears” are always welcomed, “helicopter” parents… they're the bane of my existence. I wish I could tell them to step-off, or step-up, (if I could, but administration completely frowns upon arguing with parents on behalf of their own child — teachers get fired for these things, seriously).

In fact, a colleague of mine was going to be fired, but she decided to quietly resign instead, to save face. Because she knew it was coming. She had taught at that school for almost twenty years!

Administrators are not necessarily the crème de la crème of educators. They do not even need in-classroom teaching experience to become a Principal, they just need to cough up $250 to take a test, have a Master’s degree (any Master’s degree); and do some minor training courses for an odd amount of hours. No actual experience in the education sector required.

So yes, they would fire a veteran excellent teacher over some “helicopter” parent’s feelings getting hurt… yes, because the measly $1,200 you get for that one student enrolling in our school district, is such a deal-breaker for keeping the teacher, and then squandering 20K or more on a long-term substitute to replace her; Not to mention burdening the other teachers in her grade level team with making up work and materials for the substitute to use in the classroom. Also, what about the students? Because changing a teacher mid-way through a school year sure makes sense for them, right?

The kids will at first take the news personally and take it hard like the teacher quit and gave up on them, that somehow it’s their fault she “quit”— which 98% of the time isn’t the case — yes, the students will eventually bounce back, but, man why make more problems; just because some princess-Karen got butt hurt about the TRUTH.

“Helicopter” parents, stop drowning your kids with your unrealistic expectations, let them be kids! Trust them for once. Yes, care for them, love them up, because they don’t stay little for very long. Everything else is just details.

You will miss them terribly when they are no longer little and can fit on your lap, and cuddle with you. Once that era is gone, men, it hurts to be a parent from there on; hence, parents feel they didn’t get enough of that time, or missed it, for some reason. Typically these parents become the “helicopter” parent. I get it, I am kind of a micromanager myself.

Your kids are still your kids though no matter what age. Treat them fairly, listen to them at every stage of life. They want you to understand them, more so than just an empty approval or acknowledgment.

As a teacher, I sometimes get a glimpse of my students into how they were as little toddlers, and how they may possibly be like as adults, one day.

I hope I have taught them something of value, not just the subscribed Curriculum. I hope they feel loved, that they feel they are cared for, that I do listen to them, and I want them to feel welcomed and happy in my classroom; that there is stability in their lives.

There are those who care for them as the little humans, who will be here beyond us and raise the next generation. We must remember this, we are ALL CONNECTED!

Look at the children around you. Yours, your nieces and nephews, younger cousins, siblings, etc. See them… before you see just you.

Again, you may ask, “why can’t teachers just be perfect?”

Oh yeah, because they are humans, just like you.

My experience is not outside the “box”, it's all around us, this shared experience. For that is what teachers do. We connect and share our lives with our children. We care more than you could ever imagine.

“Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle [Be kind. Always].” — Ian McLaren (A.K.A. John Watson)