What new teachers don't know
yet
A couple of weeks back, I went to Bakersfield with some of my bestest colleagues to deliver a daylong New Educator Summit for Kern County Schools. Prior to COVID, I used to do quite a bit of work with what we call early-career teachers, those in the profession for maybe five years or less. But brand-new teachers, the ones right out of teacher school, constitute a different kind of audience.
That first year, the opening scene of the play about to unfold, is absolutely terrifying. New high school teachers have to generate the kind of presence that commands respect, even if they are shaking in their shoes. If they are very young, it’s even harder; they usually don’t have life experiences to show them how to fake it till they make it. New elementary teachers — well, I wasn’t one, but I can imagine that the chaos dreams before school starts become so real. And no matter what grade you teach, no new teachers know where the supplies are, which custodian to befriend and which to avoid, where you’re supposed to keep your lunch, how to set up a bathroom pass situation, which bell means what thing, how to greet students at the door, what to say when the classroom phone rings, and on and on.
What these teachers also don’t know yet, that will touch them nearly every day, is the absolute joy of working with young people. The unexpected laughter, the small humans with big ideas, the youth who will stun them with their incisiveness.
What these teachers also don’t know yet, is the heartbreak of being a teacher. Of losing a community member or worse, a student. Of tragedies that affect a whole classroom, school, or town.
What these teachers also don’t know yet, is the calm of a community coming together after these devastations. Maybe for a fundraiser, maybe for a funeral. In April 2020, the Arlee teachers did a “teacher parade” through and around the town of Arlee. The line of cars was so lengthy it took 45 minutes to pass any given point, and scared all the cows who darted from fenceline to fenceline. Kids and parents stood at their driveways and waved and held “we love you” signs for their teachers. It culminated in a massive fireworks show from the school parking lot.
What these teachers also don’t know yet, is the dismay that comes with full-press attacks on educators via parents, parent groups, sometimes politicians, often community members, many of whom claim to know better than the professionals in education what and how to do their job.
What these teachers also don’t know yet, is the jubilation when a parent comments during a conference or calls to say you’re their child’s favorite teacher, you make their child feel good, or you have challenged their child in new and wonderful ways, or you’ve done great things with their child.
What these teachers also don’t know yet, is how demanding the job really is. The hours, days and weeks that blur into one long slog of nothing but work: work to plan, work to grade, work to teach, work to research, work to respond to parents and administrators and colleagues as needed, work to complete forms and turn in reports and participate in meetings. The first years of teaching are the absolute hardest thing many people have ever experienced.
What these teachers also don’t know yet, is the sense of satisfaction in the daily experience of this profession, the profession that makes all others possible. 85% of teaching involves working directly with human beings in ways that are palpable, and you can’t say that about a lot of careers except maybe health care or social work. It is a labor of love, to be sure, but for those who fit the teacher mold, the work is real. And it is worthwhile.
Best of luck to all the teachers heading to school this fall.
This. Again. You.
I saw so many of the ups and downs of being a teacher through my mom as I was growing up. As usual, you have put it into words perfectly. I appreciate you, Anna!