This entire year has been a mental struggle — never more so than lately. I find myself wondering more and more frequently why I ever signed up to teach the subject I love so much. Each day feels like a battle to protect my passion for reading & writing, a battle to continue believing in the power of education when my students and the world have so little good to say about my profession and my content area.
On almost a daily basis, I hear students disparage teachers — She doesn’t do her job. Her class is a waste of our time. This isn’t what we really should be learning. I watch friends post articles and memes mocking the shortcomings of public education, the blame for most of which — let’s face it — is ascribed to teachers. I witness other teachers devaluing colleagues’ teaching methods, subject matter, and general place within the curriculum in front of students and parents.
In short, it often feels that most of my days are spent fighting others in an attempt to desperately convince them that writing has the power to save lives; that a good book can transport one from a reality of depression and heartache to worlds of wonder and adventure; that the ability to articulate a fully-formed thought will never, ever go out of style.
Truth be told, I’m tired. I am tired of being told that I am not valuable. I am tired of being told that my job and subject matter are outdated, replaceable, and generally poorly executed. I am tired of being shamed by society and colleagues and students for doing the best that I can — which is never, it would seem, enough.
But some days — I’m reminded of these little humans. Of their joy for good stories, their hunger for learning, their trust in me to do right by them. And I tell myself that one day, things will be different.
Not every year can be a good year.
Not every class will be a good class.
Not every blithering idiot on Facebook has the brains to do my job — despite what they might think.
And maybe — just maybe — not every person deserves a piece of my mind.