Ellen: Overwhelmed

She told me

once that the
year she went
to England
she painted
all her buttons
yellow so
she would remember
what the
sun felt like.

(Brian Andreas)

This is my third year as a teacher of young students with cognitive disabilities and it has been the toughest one by far. Not the teaching part—I love sharing in the learning process and helping my students make discoveries about themselves, their environment, and so much more. It’s the “everything else” part that’s so tough.

I’m not even talking about writing IEPs. I’m not going to say it’s my most preferred activity (the computer program we have here in Virginia makes it arduous sometimes), but I know that I’m doing it to shape my students’ entire learning trajectory in a powerful way. Some of the plans come together like lovingly made mittens at this point and it’s very satisfying.

I’m drained by the politics. Not petty lunchroom stuff, but top-down stuff. I’m frustrated by what I perceive to be a lack of accountability for teachers who aren’t making things work and a lack of support for teachers who are. It’s difficult for me to be an advocate for my students when I feel that my school’s practices are sometimes not in their best interests.

But I don’t have to paint my buttons yellow to remember what the sun feels like; my students do that for me every day. Even today, after a series of very tough interactions with a tough new student, my kids shined right through. We did a sensory exploration walk around the classroom that had us looking under tables with magnifying glasses, listening to the clatter of our own maraca/tambourine/bell/triangle/cymbal marching band, tickling our noses with feathers, and taking in the taste and scent of some (quite stale) gingerbread men.

We played in the sunshine on this mild winter afternoon and laughed and ran and slid and jumped. I stopped feeling trapped by all of the “everything else” things for a few minutes as we marched a crooked march around the classroom and squinted in the sunlight on a playground bridge.

These children are why I slog through everything else. They are why it’s worth it.

Comments

[Ellen]

It is so great to hear the many ways other teachers are finding to get out from under the politics and the grind.

It sounds like music, students, and even your own kids can be the sunshine. It's also great to hear about other teachers who also have supportive colleagues on the teacher/support staff/related service level.

Thank you guys so much for sharing!

[Holly]

It is funny. I felt like my first year of teaching would be my hardest with learning the ins and outs of the cooperative agency that hired me. I am itinerant, as well, so getting used to traveling over count lines to many, many districts was a daunting task in itself given the weather, distances, and number of children I was expected to see in a six hour instructional school day. Little did I know, I should have cherised my first year, because although it went by in a heartbeat I was still naive to all the political factors and messiness that would influence how I did my job of the teaching the Blind and Visually Impaired. That first year I was hanging on by my fingertips, but I was enjoying the children and the fact that I started a teaching career. Now I feel that I fight everyday battles in each environment I am teaching in to make sure that my students are not being overlooked in inclusive settings and that we are provided with technology, materials, space, and time to acheive what my students need. One thing that is keeping me sane is my little boy. I recently had a son and it has helped me draw a strong line between family life and school life. I used to bring work home with me and that has stopped. I find I enjoy my husband and child more and I have more energy during the work day to deal with the struggles of school.

[HBrown]

I can connect with the feelings of politics bringing the moral down. I wouldn't even want to get started! However, I too, look for sunlight within the shade in my classroom and from my peers. I believe that what seperates the effective educators from the ineffective one is the ability to be optimistic and find the positive in a dark place. Every school has their own demons. Often times we have to look to ourselves, our students and our friends to make the difficult times easier. I am glad to see that others feel this way as well!

[Randell]

I've been teaching special ed. for about ten years now and burned out doesn't even begin to describe how I feel. I teach the emotionally disturbed and they put some mentally handicapped kids in with me because they claim they can't afford more teachers. Anyway, sometimes you just have to make that sunshine appear in your own life. I am a fiddle player in a band and that helps to keep me from going insane. When I'm too tired to fiddle, I do it anyway and it gives my life a balance. When I'm playing music, my troubles are far, far away. Take time for yourself when you get the chance. Leave your job troubles at work when you can. Remember that there are others out here who know exactly how you feel and we support you even if your administrators don't.

[Ellen]

Yeah sometimes you've got to paint them yellow yourselves--those middle school kids, argh!--but sometimes there's no need, they bring the sunshine in.

Thank you so much Kathy and Lori for sharing your connection to our shared experience. And especially to Lori for pointing out that kids are not the only ones who bring in the sunshine--supportive colleagues can be a wonderful source of light as well.

[Lori]

I thought of your post today when I was feeling "overwhelmed" and felt the need to share that "middle schoolers" are not exactly always the yellow buttons-- but sometimes my fellow teachers are :)

[kathy]

As a fellow blogger I feel your pain! That is exactly what has been draining me lately and I did not know how to write it without getting too specific, you did it beautifully! Thanks.

[Tedmauro]

You are worth the administrative and educator support you deserve. Keep up the great work and find supportive allies.