A Day As A Teacher: A different kind of adventure.

 A different kind of adventure.  

A day in the life of a teacher, because I don't think people know.

The first alarm stirs me.  The second alarm gets my brain ticking, thinking of all the things that need to happen now, later, or whenever.  The third gets my body moving.  Out of bed at 4:36 am, twenty four minutes earlier than normal because its Wednesday.  Morning routine executed, ridiculous Wild Animal Wednesday shirt of three black-eyed seals donned, dog let out, breakfast eaten, bags packed, bike loaded, and rolling out of the driveway at 5:10.  

Walking through the dark building, the still hidden sun not yet lighting the east-facing windows at 5:25, my rear wheel hub clicks loudly in the empty hallways.  Last night while grading an idea lodged itself in my brain, so I quickly print off some new items for first period class.  Across the building and down to the gym, climbing shoes in hand, I turn the lights on, wheel out the massive climbing equipment storage cart and begin prepping the wall for Rock Climbing Club.  Students begin showing up at 5:45, while I conduct safety checks, lay out equipment, and mentally plan today's session.  Most of the climbers are still new, so each weekly session must be intentional in building their skills and safe practices.  At 6:05, with 25 high school students ready to go, we begin.  We climb till 7:15 and quickly work together to pack everything up.

Back to the classroom- stopping by the mail room on the way.  Its 7:30.  Period 1 starts at 7:40.  Ten minutes to get all the everything up and running- laptop on and plugged in, projector on and connected, projects for my TA to work on prepped, Google Classroom updated and ready to project and publish, attendance program loaded and queued for first period.  Students begin filling the room as I welcome them and check emails for any last minute priorities.  

First period is a course I am piloting through a partnership with the University of Minnesota- Twin Cities College in the Schools Program.  The class, Creative Problem Solving, has never been taught at the high school level before.  Each day is new territory.  The 60-some minutes of class fly by as I guide 32 Juniors and Seniors through a series of activities and exercises.  It is loud and rambunctious, which is a sign of good things happening at 8 am on a Wednesday.  Students are excitedly collaborating on their ideas.  I simultaneously am working with my TA to test and troubleshoot the microcontrollers and servos my next class period will need.  We are all engaged, so much so that no one notices that the bell didn't work today, passing time has begun, and the next period's students are already shuffling in.

Period 2 begins at 8:53.  Sophomores mostly.  Thanks to COVID, this year the sophomores are developmentally more like 8th graders, having missed out on the majority of opportunities that build maturity.  Each day is a test of classroom management skills, a re-training of expectations, a reminder of what is and isn't acceptable.  Please put your phone away is a commonly spewed phrase.  The period whips by, as students are engaged in building, wiring, and coding.  I revisit my 504 and IEP plans for the class, reminding myself of the individual accommodations and modifications that I need to be juggling.   I revisit the gradebook and begin checking in with students who are behind in their work.  Keep any eye on the emails.  Write bathroom passes.  This time the bell rings loudly, but no students leave until everything is cleaned up.

Period 3 is my prep period.  Most days no prep happens.  But today I get 15 minutes to reply to emails.  Then, its off to meet with the school's Principal.  Another teacher and I have been co-hosting a Staff Symposium group whose goal is to answer the question of "How do we make teaching a sustainable career?"  Today we are bringing two actionable items from this group to the administration, creating an open pathway of communication, and hopefully working towards a sustainable career and workplace.  The conversation is real, honest, and positive.  The bell rings, and we are abruptly done.

Lunch at 11:15.  I quickly heat up a bowl of meatballs and grab my two cheese sticks.  Students are waiting for me in my classroom.  They don't like being at lunch, so they come here instead.  I rushed too much.  My meatballs are cold still.  I realize now that I left the bread at home, so I just start eating a bowl of meatballs.  A past student joins me while red sauce seems to splatter all over my laptop keyboard (quick glance to make sure the tech teacher doesn't happen to be walking past at that moment).  This student, who I have known since their freshman year, is now a senior and has entered the reflective stage of senior year, with enough time having passed, enough memories made and now forgotten, that high school seems to have flown by.  Popping meatballs, we discuss what comes next, after high school.  We discuss the positives and negatives of tech school, military, and university.  We pull up websites and research ideas quickly.  I eat meatballs and make a mess, while this student politely ignores my sloppy eating habits as I transition to eating cheese sticks.

My Period 4 class fills the room as the lunch crew filters out.  They immediately get to work and I immediately begin checking in with students who I know need an extra hand or have some catching up to do.  I take attendance, refresh the gradebook, and notice that the student I really need to check in with is gone again.  In a moment of calm, I run to the restroom.  End of class and the bell rings. 

Period 5 begins at 1:13 pm.  The energy is low at the end of the day.  With music and loud exclamations regarding Wild Animal Wednesday I attempt to hype the class up.  Students jump into their work.  My time is filled with: Attendance check; Gradebook check; Working with individual students to move them forward; Coming up with game plans for students who were absent for 10+ days due to COVID infections; Keeping my high fliers engaged while not letting the students who are behind get frustrated;  Pointing out to students that their habit of needing to use the bathroom for 20 minutes each day might be detrimental to their success; checking emails and responding quickly to high priorities; troubleshooting with students who are stuck on today's challenge... the time goes by quickly.  I notice two boys using their time unwisely and make a mental note to check in with them about this tomorrow.  They force my hand by trying to attach alligator clips to their nipples. I deal with it now.  The bell rings.

10 minutes to clean up.  Staff meeting starts at 2:30.

Today I leave early from the staff meeting.  Changing clothes and dressing to bike, I ride across the campus to the starting line of the Section Cross Country meet with just a few minutes to spare.  The gun goes off and I lead the woman runners on two laps of the course.  The men's race begins at 3:55.  I lead the first place runner to finish line and roll straight back to the building.  I am 10 minutes late to the next meeting of the day.

For 4 hours we brainstorm, collaborate, and think big about what can be.  We meet now because there is no time or way to meet during the actual school day.  Most of the teachers here have young families who they will not see tonight, their children, mine included, in bed by the time we get home.

At 8:30 pm I finally exit the building, rolling my bike with two bags of the day's necessities slung over my shoulders.  I'm still wearing my biking clothes, which hopefully didn't smell too much during the meeting.  Four hours in sweaty bike shorts is uncomfortable.  The sun has set hours ago.  I am not ready to teach tomorrow.  I will get up early to do my prep work.

I drive home in silence, no music today.  It is nice to be alone and still.

And the question that comes to mind... is this the expectation?  Is this what it takes?  Is this the bar that has been set?

Is this what you have to do to be a Minnesota Teacher of the Year Finalist? 

And why?

I acknowledge that many of the things I did today were my choice.  I choose to volunteer my time to run the Rock Climbing Club.  I choose to help at the Cross Country Meet.  I choose to facilitate the building of a community of staff members.  I choose to think big and push our school to go big.  I choose to create engaging classroom environments and find ways for students to be successful.  I choose to come early and stay late.  I do these things because its what feels right.

But throughout this day I was not alone.  I was surrounded by fellow teachers and staff who were choosing to go beyond. 

Do people know what it means to be a teacher, to work in a public school?

Do they know that tomorrow I will teach all day, then conduct 25 parent-teacher conferences and hopefully walk out the door at 8 pm?  Twenty five of the 110+ families I teach will come to me for ten minutes and I will be expected to praise, discipline, guide, or be whatever they need me to be for their student.  Which reminds me... I need to get some more gradebook updating completed.

Do people know that our principal drives himself so hard that he had a heart attack 2 weeks ago?

And what happens when all these teachers and staff decide to stop choosing to go beyond?  What happens when we just do our job, as stated in the contract?  What happens when a teacher/staff member decides this job isn't sustainable, and leaves the profession?

What happens when too many people see public school as a system of failures, and they just give up on it?

What happens to our children, our public school system, and the idea of the "American Dream", a "future with no limits", if public school no longer is a viable option?

What happens when my colleagues and I are so fried that we can't choose to go beyond?

What happens when a teacher says "its just a job"?

This day shouldn't be the benchmark.  But too often it seems to be.  

I hold myself to a high standard, and that high standard requires a lot of work behind the scenes that no one knows of.  The bell rings and students move on.  There is no bell for me.

What if I can't meet that standard some day?

What if the system we know as public education gets so boggled down, that no matter what I do I can't meet my standard?

These are good questions to wrestle with.  It might be time to get back on the bike and work through some of these.