You've all known the teachers that get to school right as the first period bell rings, teach their classes, and then sprint for the door like the building's ablaze. And they do that every day. That was never my style, but it's starting to take its toll.
Last May, as the school year was winding to a close, my department's representative to our School Improvement Team decided to step down so he could spend more time tending to his farm. After a host of other department members pulled a Sherman and made it abundantly clear that they would not serve even if chosen to do so, I reluctantly stepped up to the plate.
Fast forward to the beginning of this school year. Another department member was promoted from being our department's representative on the senior exit project committee to being the head of the whole project. Would I take over as the department rep? she asked. I said yes.
I've said yes to just about every thing my suburban high school has asked me to do over the past few years. I'm too damn nice.
I'll be the first to concede that I brought a lot of this on myself. When I came to the school as a 21-year-old student teacher in 2004, I volunteered to help with the school's quiz bowl team because I thought I'd love coaching quiz bowl since I loved playing so much in my high school days, and I thought it would help me get hired at the school. On both accounts, I turned out to be correct - I got a sweet gig teaching mostly U.S. History, and those kids are some of my favorite people in the world. I also volunteered to do public address announcing for the soccer teams to make a little extra money. As a student teacher, I was probably doing more than 90% of the teachers that actually got paid.
Two years ago, however, the coach that I started out helping stepped aside. I love being a head coach, but I have no assistant. We attend ten tournaments a year, all of which are at least two hours away from school, all on Saturdays, and I have to enlist parents to drive because I have no other faculty members to do so.
My low-key soccer announcing gig morphed into varsity football announcing four years ago, robbing the first part of my precious weekends as I sweat through those Friday night games in our tin can of a press box. I even help with the marching band since I played tuba in high school and college. Not a day goes by that I don't say to myself, How in the HELL did I get myself into all of this?
One thing I've barely even mentioned so far is the thing I'm primarily supposed to do - teach. One week before school began, the higher-ups told me that I'd be teaching one block of Civics - a course I haven't taught since 2006 - in addition to my usual U.S. History. One reason I felt somewhat comfortable with so much on my massive plate was that I didn't have to worry about doing much preparation for my classes, but now THAT'S not even true. Next semester I have nothing but AP U.S. History; that class is my baby, my favorite thing to teach. But I'll have 72 students; that's 72 essays to grade every time I give a test. Please, curtail your jealousy.
While I'm feeling myself being pulled in 27 different directions at once, I can't help but notice my colleagues who depart school at 2:30 every afternoon, as soon as the last kid has hopped onto the bus. I try my best not to judge - there's no doubt that some of these people have family obligations, or other jobs beyond the school walls that they have to work to pay the bills. Be that as it may, I still wonder how I'm stuck at school until 5:00 on most days while they're long gone. I always get a tinge of righteous indignation when I see them heading for the door, while at the same time envying their ability to liberate themselves from the shackles of their job.
Being so involved does have its perks. Most importantly, and most rewardingly, I'm able to get to know a lot of really great kids that I wouldn't otherwise meet. Marching band and quiz bowl allow me to have fun while letting my inner nerd run wild. But at what cost? Once I get done with all my stuff at school, get papers graded, and do everything I have to do at home, I'm lucky to get six hours of sleep a night during the week. I work out when I can, but I'm probably not eating as well as I should. At the ripe old age of 26 I'm starting to get a few grey hairs creeping in here and there. My job is like my drug - I get a great deal of satisfaction from it while knowing that in the end it damn well may kill me.
After four-plus years of nonstop commitment to my school, I'm almost ashamed to admit that I finally reached the breaking point. I'm applying to graduate school for next year, and I'm not planning to study in an education-related field. I'm not the first young teacher at my school to hit the wall; last year another guy I started with fresh out of college back in 2005 enrolled in law school after four years of coaching cross country and serving as the broadcasting coordinator for the school, and several other colleagues have begun work in various private disciplines. The worst part: they were all excellent teachers.
One of these days, I think I'd love to teach again, and I'm going to feel horrible about leaving behind the kids I've developed friendships with over the years, but right now I need some time to recharge my batteries. And I have to admit, it'll be nice to be in a classroom and be able to leave when the bell rings.