Last year was sort of the breaking point for me. Although I had loved my career as a teacher, I had run into one too many administrators who believed the hype about themselves. And I was tired. I left education and planned to open my own insurance agency. However, I ran into several obstacles and making my timetable for opening longer than expected. My husband wanted me to go back to work...understandable, since he was footing all the bills. And I, quite frankly, was getting a tad nervous too. In September, it looked as though my dreams would not come true until January and with half of our income subtracted from the family finances...well, it looked as though disaster were about to strike. So I went back to work as a teacher.
At first, I loved the school I was in but then, began to notice the cracks. In particular, I was placed in a classroom that had zero classroom management. I made suggestions which were repeatedly rebuffed by the classroom teacher. I was working with a long-term sub and a tutor. Yet, it was their classroom. Fine, I can accept that, since special education teachers seem to take a back seat when walking into another teacher's classroom. Yet, chaos reigned. There was no consistency or routine to the classroom management. I'm not talking your usual classroom problems; rather, students walking in and out at will (even those that didn't belong there), students out of their seats, yelling obscenities at one another, yelling obscenities at me (because I was trying to straighten out this mess of a room) and even a fight, which I broke up. After several months, something I had long forgotten had come back...anxiety. I began to dread going to this class as I suffered through my anxiety issues. I took medication and although better, still not enough. As my doctor said, what if I took a shot of vodka before I came in to see you? I get the analogy doc yet, this is real. Although I had gone to administration before, I took my issues in administration to someone who may be able to help because I.wanted.out.
I explained my situation at a time when there were 55 days left in the school year. That is about a week and a half in "real" time. I asked to be replaced for the remaining 55 weeks. I wanted to switch with someone in order to take care of me. And I knew I was at a tilting point by this time. I was asked to write a letter explaining the situation and forward it to the principal. A meeting was called. In it was the principal, the admin I confided in about my anxiety and the long-term sub. I'm not sure why the long-term sub was called in as all that was said to her was, "Congratulations on passing the Praxis. You'll have a contract next year. You just need to work on the discipline."
I, on the other hand, received the full wrath of the principal. Well, what exactly is the problem Mrs. Grace? Oh, you mean you only have this phobia during this class? Not phobia, principal, but anxiety. And yes. I was lambasted, talked down to and in a sense, pushed to a place where no one should have to go. I sat and listened, since he refused to take any questions I had. Before I left, I had my peace. "You don't know who I am ... I have prayed for my students every single day for the past 11 years -- praying that the light of God will shine through me. I care (I had been told I didn't)."
Instead of looking at me as a person, he looked at me as a color. You see, I am a 60 year old white woman in a Title 1 school. He saw a Trump voter (oh the irony). What he didn't know, and I did explain, is that this isn't my first rodeo, buster. I have worked in Title I schools before. I prefer them. I like working with at-risk youth. However, I entered a classroom that already had a problem -- a big one. I was told it was a difficult classroom but this was beyond the scope of my training. I took all the steps I knew and even talked to instructional specialists and administration before I took this step, which I admit was extreme. However, I took the time to explain what I needed to be, in order to be healthy and capable of performing at top level and I found that they didn't care. I am expendable. My health is expendable. It felt like I had been raped because I had been betrayed on so many levels.
The outcome? I am on FMLA (family medical leave). I left work that day because I was in full-blown health crisis. My BP at the doctor's office was 178/108 (stroke level) and my pulse was 153.
I was, in effect, not pushed but shoved down the rabbit hole. I could no longer function at my job. I am losing three months salary. All because someone who was ignorant chose to tear me a new one; not alone, but in front of others. It is not the humiliation but rather the betrayal that was so harmful. The accusation that I didn't care or the tone that seemed to say, I don't believe you. This from the man who had always maintained, if you ever need anything at all, come to me. Right! I did and you betrayed me.
He chose to ignore what I was saying...LISTEN! Anxiety is real. It is not "all in my head." It is not an excuse to "get out" of a job assignment. I have never, in 11 years, asked to be moved, and they knew that. And trust me, I have been in some really tough job assignments. Yet, they chose to take an approach that in all my years of teaching, I have never seen, let along experienced. Good job, principal! I'm not even sure I want to go back to education at.all. Please don't believe the hype about yourself. The reason your numbers for graduation look good are because the proficiency exams went out when you came in. It was an act of God; not any real skill on your part.
As for me, I am trying to pull myself together. Deciding next steps. It is, in a word, overwhelming. I go to my counselor but he is busy of late, and my next appointment isn't until April. After that, I have scheduled weekly ones through July. I have not needed counseling for years because I had it pretty much together. And now, because of a situation which could have easily been corrected and handled in a much more diplomatic way, I am back to square one.
As for me, I will recover, I'm certain. For now, it is all about me. Taking time to discern God's next steps for me. I have some ideas but try not to think too much. My very core is damaged. It will take time to get over this -- not the sting of words but the complete lack of respect for another human being. I want better for our kids of today. If anything, I care too much. I am not weak. I am not fragile. But I am human. You took what I told you in confidence and chose to make a huge problem when it could have been resolved by, "yes, I can do this...I'm sorry you are sick" or "no, I cannot do this...I'm sorry you are sick." Or better yet, how can we help you? If you are unwilling to help your staff, the lifeblood of your community, why would you be willing to help students who are struggling?
It is a question I struggle with...it is mind-boggling and too much to think about at this time. I do know that this is most likely the end of my teaching career. We have gotten to a point where the disrespect of others is a top-down problem rather than just a horizontal one. The school will go on, kudos will be given to administrators and I am just another teacher who couldn't cut it. Writing helps during times like these. I always did want to become an author. Maybe now is that time...
