Worry

I love my job.

I am pretty sure if you searched through my writings, you would be able to see this statement repeated many times. I don't love my job because I get summers off or I get to laugh at poo jokes (although, those are some perks) but I love it because of the kids. I know what it sounds like, before you say it to me later, I do know but it's true.

An older teaching mentor I had at my last school said, "I don't have any of my own children, but I have 30 adopted ones each year." It is true. People say teaching is rewarding and you feel like you are making a difference but I am not sure that is what drives me to love my job. Away from it all, looking back on children I have taught, I feel a sense of pride, sure.  I feel fulfilment from their progress and development during their time with me however when you are in the midst of it, you really are in the shit. I don't mean to parallel teaching 5 - 10 year olds with war, but isn't it? Let's be honest, every day I am in a battle. Crayons are flying around the room, children don't want to follow instructions, people are getting hit (by each other, not by me...), they are missing their families, and there are tears...lots of tears. I leave every day feeling like I have run a marathon, only to go home and think about what to do tomorrow.

The reason I say I don't think teaching feels rewarding when you are in the middle of a school year with a group is because you worry. You worry all the time. I can't imagine what it will be like to have my own children, who I can't send away at 3:30, to take a break until 8:00 the next day. I find it hard to comprehend worrying any more than I already do. Sometimes parents disagree with you as their child's teacher, which is fine (any parent reading this, I understand why you are upset and want to meet with me every day after school - this is not a criticism right now) but sometimes I just want to shout "I love your kid too! I am doing my best!"because I do love them, and I am certainly trying my best.

I try my best not so I can be the best or get an award from my head teacher but again, because I worry - always. Sometimes the worrying about them is so bad, I wake up in the middle of the night to text people (last year I was particularly worried about a bunch and an old TA friend received many a text about my anxieties). What I want to say to parents is:

You stay up late worrying your child will fall behind? I stay up late worrying about how I can prevent that. I stay up late examining APP grids, and ELGs and targets and curriculum maps to see where your child needs to go next and for EACH child under my care. My google search engine is filled with "books that are good for retells," "3D shape games" "practical money activities and resources" or maybe even "funny phonics raps." I worry that they don't have enough friends, or maybe they have the wrong friends. I worry that they aren't getting adding by counting on. I worry that they might not ever be able to take turns. I worry that they won't be able to cope as well with a teacher who has a different teaching style when they move up a grade next year. I worry where they will be in four years, six years, in high school. I worry that I am not doing enough, or maybe I am even pushing too hard. I worry they won't make their targets. I worry about WHY they won't make their targets. I worry that if they don't get something, it is because I am not being clear enough or I am not teaching it the best way possible. I worry I am failing. Now multiple your worries by 30 because I worry about all of them the same.

So yes, I worry too.

This is why you don't often have time as a teacher on a weekend or after school to feel rewarded or like you are out to do good. You are busy trying to keep your head above water, while 30 munchkins sit on your shoulders trying to stay afloat too. But I will say there are wow moments. Not always me feeling rewarded or good at what I do, but where a child really blows me away with something they do or say. Today one of my boys said to a little girl who was crying, "Don't worry, I missed my mum too but you will be ok. It's fun here, we will look after you," and gave her a tissue. Another girl looked at me while I was sitting at a focus table and said "Ms. Thomas, have you seen _____? I don't know where she could be?" Then she smiled and me and discretely pointed to her best friend "hiding" herself under an open-area table. "But Ms. Thomas, she must be somewhere, I just don't know where she is." All the while, the other little girl was blissfully giggling that she had fooled us all.

I might be worried about some smaller, more bureaucratic elements of teaching but we are shaping tiny humans and I have to remind myself they will be alright. That is why I love my job, because they make it easy to love what I do. They might not be able to double 7, but I hope from being with me they can laugh and they can be good people.


Fingers crossed.