Matching Tracksuits

Since I made it official that this will be my last year at Hughes Academy, I have noticed a change in how I view things. “Don’t check out these last few weeks,” Kinga said to me. I replied that this was the last batch of students I’m sending to local high schools, and I want my reputation to remain intact. Several teachers have told me that they can tell who my students are after the first major writing assignment. I don’t want that to change this final year.

Still, my stress levels on some things have declined greatly. Today, for example I saw a kid with his hoodie still on, and I told him to take it off. He said he was going off to PE and would take it off afterward. I knew it he is not supposed to have it at PE, but in the end I just let him go. Karma will catch up to him, I thought sure enough, an hour later, I saw him standing in the hall, being dressed down by the principal for wearing his hoodie.

Another example occurred last week. One student was extremely disrespectful with me, and this disrespect came immediately upon being told that he needed to vacate the hallway and make it to class. I’ve had encounters with a student earlier in the year, and none of them have been pleasant. I can only imagine how much chaos he brings to the classrooms he attends. I thought that perhaps I should write him up. That would be a mild blessing for his teachers because a day without his problematic behavior is like a day of vacation. You can get things done that you couldn’t get done otherwise. Still, in the end, I decided it was just not worth my time. I’d have to call his mother, and I’d have to find that phone number by going to this teacher or that teacher and tracking it down. I wouldn’t have access to it myself. All that being said, I just decided it was not worth my time.

For many years, the end of the school year was something of a relief. I had completed another year of instruction; my students were moving on to bigger challenges; and I would be able to rest for a while. The school year was always a challenge, but it was never anything insurmountable.

Then a few years ago, every school year started to feel a little more like the myth of Sisyphus. I was rolling the boulder up the mountain year after year, but at least when I got to the top, even though I knew it would roll back down, I always had some satisfaction that I had indeed pushed it up the mountain to begin with. Over the last few years, however, when I reached the year’s pinnacle, when I have pushed that boulder up the mountain one more time, I stand there, waiting for it to roll back down. Instead of turning my attention to summer break, I just watch the boulder tumble back down the hill as I think, “Well, I’m just going to have to roll it back up again next year.”

Part of that was a function of exhaustion, I’m sure. Yet part of it arose from the nervousness I felt, and I believe all teachers feel, as one year ends, and the next one begins. It’s been the same worry every single year: What else are we going to have to do next year that just feels like jumping through a hoop?

In short, I’m tired of jumping through hoops to provide data for people at the district office who need to produce something that justifies their six figure jobs. Reports and charts require data; we teachers provide that data. Lately, it’s all I feel I do. I’m sure it’s somewhat debatable how accurate that description is, but it is how a lot of teachers feel today not this in our school, not just in our district, not just in our state, but all across the country. All teachers are tired of the increasing administrative requirements, the increasing data analysis requirements (often analyzing data of questionable value to begin with), and the increasing number of silver-bullet computer programs and websites, which don’t solve problems, but usually only create more work. Teachers are tired of those who hold the purse strings dictating how things are going be done when most of those making legislative decisions have never been in a classroom to begin with. Teachers are tired of “solutions” which are nothing of the sort, but rather simply legislation controlling the one thing that we as a society can legislate about: teachers.

Teacher are leaving public education in droves these days, for the aforementioned reasons and likely many other others. I am afraid that I have decided I must join those ranks.

Effective at the end of the 2024-2025 school year, I resign my position at [this school].

I leave [this school] with a certain degree of sadness, to be sure. I have taught here for so long and created such a reputation for myself that it is quite difficult to give all that up. Students coming to my classroom know what to expect. Students who have older siblings whom I taught arrive expectations based on stories their older brother or older sister told them. Parents who have talked to the parents of former students greet me with smiles on Meet the Teacher night and tell me they are eager for their son or daughter to receive the challenge, which, according to my reputation, I am able to provide. Former students come to see me regularly, and it’s always a delight to talk to them. In leaving [this school], I leave all that behind. It is a sacrifice I don’t make lightly.

However, I believe I have accomplished everything I could have accomplished at [this school], and it is time for me to move on. Other challenges await, and I am eager to take them on.