| SEARCH OnWEAC |
|---|
| By Maureen Purcell
I have a new teaching job. Again. In the past five years of my teaching career I've had four new jobs. And despite my mother's prayers, I'm sure I'll have many more. My first job teaching 6th grade in a Chicago Catholic school was amazing in many ways:
It was my first year of teaching and I loved it. I didn't love the salary though so, the next year, I moved on to a public school in a near-south suburb. There, I taught language arts and social studies to 8th graders. I learned two things at that school: 8th graders are, at best, prickly, and, at their worst, unabashedly unhappy; and if you don't have the support of your administration, life is very, very difficult. I didn't have the support of my administration in a year-long struggle with a challenging student and his equally challenging mother, and didn't know if I'd return to teaching after that year. I considered graduate school, moving out West, marrying well during the summer - anything so that I didn't have to go back the following year. Realizing that you're suffering from burnout at the ripe old age of 25 is a shock for anyone; but for me - someone who specifically moved to Chicago to be an urban educator, only to find my chosen environment was the cause of my burnout - it was especially hard to take. So, I researched teacher burnout and realized that, given my situation and environment, there was no way I could have prevented it. So I decided to take some time for myself. I took the summer off, moved out West to work at a national park, and engaged in my own type of therapy. Working at a place where I wasn't Ms. Purcell was an important step in coming back to teaching for me. Part of what had caused my burnout (mental and emotional exhaustion) was my belief that my teacher persona was invincible. I was Ms. Purcell: organized, flexible, capable in any situation (even unfair ones), and unflappable. Maureen, on the other hand, is a bit forgetful, drives her car on empty much more than she should, and likes to sleep in. That summer I thought a lot about merging my two selves. I thought about how identity is as important for a teacher as it is for students. I know as a teacher I go out of my way to honor my students' identities. To bring myself to the classroom again, I also had to honor both of my selves: the capable (and perfectionistic) Ms. Purcell and the occasionally forgetful, but much more interesting, Maureen. Refreshed and self-aware, I returned to Wisconsin in October, found a long-term substitute position in the district where I’d student taught, and became a teacher again. Returning to something I loved after an absence was surreal yet undeniably comfortable. I knew I was in the right place again: teaching middle schoolers with their funny quirks; tactless, bold opinions; and delightful moments of puppyish charm. I still remember a phrase from that week, “Make him stop calling me Uncle Fungus!” When I heard that, I knew I was back. I returned from my hiatus a more compassionate teacher. I found myself being more truthful with my students when I didn't grade their papers in a timely manner; I asked for their help more. Amazingly enough, they were always happy to give it. There was no grousing or complaining; whenever I asked for help, they cheerfully gave it. I realized that teaching and learning are reciprocal, and giving students the opportunity to help out a teacher, every once in a while, makes them feel trusted and capable. When I graduated from college, there was no way I could have known the curves and detours my teaching career would take. Despite the appearance of being off-track the summer I considered "retiring" from teaching, it was all part of the plan, I believe. Deciding to return made me re-commit myself to being the sort of teacher I wanted (or didn’t want) to be: not "perfect" Ms. Purcell but instead, a teacher with many life experiences, insight into challenging situations, and more empathy toward her students. In the words of an old gospel song, I can now truly say, “I wouldn't take nothin' for my journey now.” Posted January 21, 2007 |
