I am a Teacher

I love teaching. I have only ever wanted to be a teacher. It hurts when the thing you worked so hard for betrays you, uses you up. This is for all of us who just want to teach: 

Becoming a teacher got me out of a toxic life…

until it mirrored the toxicity and abuse I escaped.

Becoming a teacher gave me hope…

until it didn’t.

Becoming a teacher was something…

until it wasn’t anymore.

I wake up every morning with knots in my stomach.

You see, teaching just isn’t the job anymore.

I love the teaching, but I hate the job. 

The job is a wretched weed, curling around me until I choke.

The job belittles and shouts, “you aren’t enough” around every corner.

The job beckons with jeans days and shallow comments of self care, burdening me with the task of caring for yet another soul… this time mine.

The job imposes, “wear all of these hats, we know you’re busy, but wear them and wait, here’s more.”

The job demands, “Do your job x, y, z, and oh, by the way, I’m delegating my tasks to you, dear teacher.”

The job manipulates, “You are SO amazing, you can handle it, that’s why you are tasked with doing the impossible!”….while it conveniently forgets to thank you, support you, pay you.

The job accuses, “You are wrong, the customer is always right.”

The job is cliques and mean girls commenting, chiding, picking me apart, “You can’t sit with us”.

The job is a chessboard filled with players making strategic moves, shrouded in a smokescreen of forced positivity.

The job guilts, “It’s for the kids, do it for the kids, neglect yourself and your own family for the kids.”

The job mocks, “We are family.” 

The job is twisting what teaching should be.

The job is twisting me.

I am not this job, I am a teacher.

I am tired. 

Written by Laura Hall, 2021