Save the Teachers

I can feel my pulse rising as I glance over my students’ shoulders while they work.

Wrong. Wrong. Really?? Wow. Also wrong.

The problem-of-the-day seemed easy to me: Apparently Josh wants to cover his rectangular living room in carpet except for the tile entryway. My students were supposed to be helping him figure out how many square feet of carpet to buy. Easy, right? I mean, there was even a picture with all the dimensions labeled. Practically a freebie, if you ask me.

So why could none of my students answer it?

“Check again, sweetheart.”

When have I ever taught that strategy?

“Read the problem again and look for text evidence to help you.”

Where did that number even come from?

“Good effort, but why don’t you read the question again?”

He’s working so hard at doing the wrong thing. Poor kid.

What was meant to be a warm-up turned into an entire 45 minute lesson that ended with me using yellow tape to mark off a “tile entryway” in my classroom to help them solve the problem. And by the time I was finished my anxiety had skyrocketed. I hid it from my students, but my blood pressure was reaching dangerous levels, I’m sure.

I know what some of you must be thinking: But isn’t that why you wanted to be a teacher? So you could, you know… teach?

Yes. That’s EXACTLY why I wanted to be a teacher. And it’s also exactly why I spend my days trying not to blow a gasket when my students struggle. Because all I want to do is teach. But that’s not what the job is anymore, my friends. And if you are a teacher, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Education has gone down a dark and dismal path that has robbed the teacher of the professional integrity to meet the immediate needs of his or her students, and has instead forced us to trade in our apples and smiling faces for combat boots and clipboards.

They call us teachers, but that’s not really what we are anymore.

We are drill sergeants.

There is a finish line at the end of the year that every student must cross, and if they fail to do so then we are the ones that feel the heat. So when all of my students struggle to solve a problem that should have been simple for them, I’m left to stress over how on earth I’ll get them where they need to be by the day of the big test.

Let’s take a poll: Raise your hand if you could run a 5-minute mile. Anyone? Probably not. Now imagine that you had a fitness coach you worked with every day to train for that race. Some people could maybe get close to that goal with hard work and dedication. For others of us, it’s more likely to snow in Houston than to actually run that fast. Regardless, we all must run. But on the day of the race you show up to find out that it’s actually 2 miles. Uphill. Barefoot. And you still have to finish in 5 minutes.

Welcome to public education, friends. Each year we do everything we can to help our students achieve near-impossible goals. Any sane person in my example above would laugh at those standards and say that it’s impossible for even the best trainers to get anyone to finish that race. But what the trainer would do is look at all the data from last year’s race and analyze the parts of the course that slowed down the runners the most, then spend weeks preparing small group interventions for the runners “on the bubble” of success while simultaneously trying to provide extension exercises for the elite athletes. Mix in a PLC with other trainers here and there and you’ve basically got teaching in a nutshell.

I’m actually not writing to incite a riot about standardized testing, though it may seem that was my intent. Rather, I want you to be able to picture what it feels like to be in the teacher’s shoes every day. The pressure is unbearable and we’ve reached the time of year when we all start to question why we got into this field to begin with. I’m writing this post because I’m concerned about the mental health of educators across America. Here are some stats for you:

• Teaching was ranked #7 for careers with the highest rates of depression.¹
• 40% of new teachers quit within the first year.²
• The number of teachers quitting within the first few years of teaching has tripled in the past six years.²

I couldn’t find any statistics, but the number of news stories about teachers committing suicide was alarming as well. As teachers, we get into this thing to help students… but who is out there to help us?

Fellow teachers, we need to take a stand to change the statistics. Yes, our job is stressful. Yes, the expectations are too high. Yes, our jobs are at stake if those kids don’t perform. But what if we decided to change our perspective together? Let’s keep the main thing the main thing… and the main thing is not test scores.

I’m blessed to work at a school where our principal has her priorities in line. She knows we’re working with children, not statistics. I also have a wonderful husband who helps me decompress and supports me in not bringing work home. And even with such glorious circumstances, I’m still stressed out of my mind most days this time of year. What about the teachers whose principals live, eat, and breathe test scores? What about the educators who take hours of grading or data analysis home every night? How do they survive each year?

It’s time to save the teachers. It’s time someone took a stand and started to provide some help for the people in the trenches. Is that person me? Maybe. Do I have the resources to provide a solution on my own? Absolutely not. But I do have ideas. And I have fellow educators who probably feel the same way.

I don’t know what the solution is, but I’ve got a few things in mind that we could try to save our sanity. I refuse to go through another school year of doubting my calling and not loving my kids well because I’ve become so disillusioned about what is cognitively appropriate for a fourth grader. I’m not going to outline those ideas just yet… I think I need the input of some other teachers first. But I can tell you one thing:

Teachers need your prayers. They love your kids, but sometimes they hate what their jobs have become. And if you are a teacher, then let’s stand together on this. No test score is worth the anxiety we go through. These are children we’re working with. Can we remind each other when we lose perspective? Can we lift each other up when we get down? Can we look into the eyes of those kids at the end of the year and tell them we’ve loved them unconditionally, despite how they performed? It’s going to be hard, but it’s necessary.

Yes, it is time to do something about it. It’s time to save the teachers.

1: http://www.health.com/health/gallery/0,,20428990_7,00.html

2: http://www.theguardian.com/education/2015/mar/31/four-in-10-new-teachers-quit-within-a-year

Jesus is Dead.

Those three words stopped me cold. Surely such an utterance had not been spoken in my classroom.

"What did you say?"

"I said Jesus is dead."

I had heard him correctly. Another student was in the middle of giving a presentation about the  traditions of his culture when this child chimed in upon hearing about the celebration of the birth of Jesus. I sat looking at this child on the floor next to me, heart pounding through my ribs.

Dead. He had said that Jesus was dead.

I've known for most of the school year that this child is not a Believer, but something about hearing those words come out of his mouth shocked me. He was so emphatic. So final. So confident.

These are the moments that I always think I'll have an eloquent, life-changing response to... until I'm actually in the face of it. I completely failed in this moment because as I sat there dumbfounded at this declaration of Christ's mortality, the only words that escaped my mouth were, "No. That's not true."

Not exactly an earth-shattering argument. And certainly not my finest moment on fulfilling that whole Great Commission thing...

But something about such a straightforward, blatant statement against the very foundation of my entire life shook me up just a bit. Yes, I know that this world is full of people who view Jesus as just another man with an interesting story in history, but sitting three feet away from a child I dearly love while he claims that the Messiah is dead made it all very real... and very personal.

I wish I could rewind and respond differently. I wish I could go back to that moment and tell him why his statement was not true, but I can't do those things any more than I can fast-forward to Thanksgiving break (which I would definitely do if I could pull it off). The good news is that he is quite literally a captive audience in my classroom each day, and I trust that the Lord will provide more opportunities to share truth with this boy... but I can't get those three words out of my head.

Jesus is dead.

As I type them now I realize that my student was only one word away from the truth, one word away from freedom. Jesus is dead? Not hardly.

Jesus was dead.

It's a subtle difference, but that one linking verb is the difference between joy and sorrow, my friends. Was is past tense, meaning a previous state of being. Jesus was dead, but four words spoken to Mary and Mary at the tomb in Matthew 28 show us that he did not stay that way: "He is not here."

Don't you know those were the most precious words those ladies ever heard? Those four words changed the is to a was, and shook the very foundations humanity. Sin could not beat him, death could not kill him, and the grave just simply could not keep him in.

So where do you stand? Jesus is dead? Or Jesus was dead? It might seem like a matter of semantics, an insignificant choice of words, but choose wisely. Is leaves us hopeless. Is becomes final. Is robs us of joy. But I have good news...

Was is eternal.

Chosen Instruments

It's a benchmark day. That means I'm spending my day watching the small humans take a math test on computers all day long. What that also means is that I've caught up on all my grading, looked at my lesson plans, updated my class blog, and still have hours left sitting in here, which is why I'm writing a blog post during the school day (Disclaimer: I am normally extremely engaged with my children at work. I teach my rear-end off on normal days... this is not a normal day, and therefore my rear-end is still firmly in place. My kids are staring at computer screens, it's painfully quiet, and I'm GOING TO GO CRAZY if I don't find something to do.)

Fun fact of the week: My husband started a new job as a minister at our church this week! I'm so proud of him. He is a gifted man and I know he's going to change the world. I'm blessed to get to tag along for the ride with him. His week so far has been full of meeting up with people he'll be working with... which means he's been taken out to eat every day so far. Not only does he have a full hour to eat, but he actually gets to go real places with real food. Like, restaurants.

I know, fellow teachers, you're probably as confused as I am. From what I've gathered, I think out there in the real world people actually have time to enjoy meals with their coworkers. Maybe one day we'll have that privilege. Until then, we'll keep scarfing down our Lean Cuisines in 20 minutes with hopes of having time to use the restroom for the one and only time during the day before we fetch our children from the cafeteria and march back to the Land of Learning.

Differing meal situations aside, I couldn't be more proud of my husband. He tells me about the work he's been hired to do and I have no doubt that he's been hand-picked to be a world-changer. I'm sure you've known people like that before: the people who are so incredibly talented at spreading God's love in their workplace that the thought of them doing any other job seems insane. Like God reached down and actually plucked them up and put them right in the middle of their mission field. It reminds me of when God told Ananias to go lay hands on Saul to give him his sight back. Ananias was hesitant because Saul didn't exactly have the best reputation. Do you remember God's response?

“Go, for he is a chosen instrument of mine to carry my name before the Gentiles and kings and the children of Israel.” (Acts 9:15)

Wow. A chosen instrument. That's my husband for sure. And my mom (also a teacher, and she really loves like Jesus). But me? I haven't exactly felt like a chosen instrument this week.
I've lost my patience a few times.
I've tried and tried to teach new strategies, but feel like I'm getting nowhere.
I've been tired.
I've felt inadequate.
And to top it all off, I was almost thrown up on. Twice.

No, I definitely haven't felt like a chosen instrument this week. But then I remember who God is referring to in this verse: Saul. The same Saul to stood back and watched as Stephen was stoned. The same Saul who went door to door looking for Christians to put in prison. The same Saul who was known for killing followers of Jesus.

That Saul? A chosen instrument to carry God's name? Yes. THAT Saul. You see, this is a humble reminder that God chooses the people we would least expect to carry His name. He chooses the ones who don't seem fit for the job. The tired. The inadequate. And yes, the thrown-up on.

Fellow believers, whether you feel like your job was made for no one else but you or you feel like a human trash can, know that YOU are a chosen instrument. YOU were handpicked to be doing exactly what you're doing right now, regardless of how good you think you are. I find comfort in knowing that God not only chose Saul, he transformed him into the instrument He needed him to be. I am not good enough for this job. In fact, few people are. But I don't have to be. I was chosen, and because of an almighty God I've been transformed into something so much greater than I could ever become on my own. And if you are a follower of Jesus, you've been transformed as well. Now that is powerful.

The Harvest

Well, it's official. The 2015-16 school year is officially under way. I know this not only because a swarm of small humans stormed my classroom two days ago bearing school supplies galore, but also because my feet are currently reminding me that standing all day in those super cute shoes was not ideal. But alas, such is the life of an educator. Chronically sore feet is but one of many occupational hazards that we must learn to smile through.

As hectic as the week has been, it has also been exciting. My little ones have reminded me why I love this job so much. I forget many things over the course of the summer, all of which I'm quickly reminded of during the first week back to school. I'll detail a few of the things I've had to "relearn" this week so far...

Extra Nugget #10

Assume nothing. Teach everything.

The summer sun seemed to have washed away my memory of just how much we have to teach these little boogers at the beginning of the school year. I mean, really. I listen to myself and think, "This is really my job. I get paid for this." A few examples of moments when I assumed a child knew something that seemed painfully obvious to me...

• "No sweetheart, you probably shouldn't throw your new lunchbox away."
• "Yes dear, I do know to read."
• "Do I have yellow hair? Can you see me? Then I think you know the answer."
• This child proceeded to draw a picture of me with...... yellow hair. My hair is very much brown.
• "No, your robot cannot live on your desk. Especially if it keeps beeping this loudly."
• "Please get that pencil out of your ear."
• "Actually, the Minion movie was fiction. I know. Disappointing."

I know what you're thinking: "Wow, her kids are real freak shows." Yes. Yes they are. And I love it.

Extra Nugget #11

Kids are hilarious.

Do I really need to be reminded of this? Apparently so, because every year I'm finding it harder and harder to keep a straight face at some of the things I overhear in my room:

• "I bet Mrs. Murphy loves Katy Perry."
• Quickly followed by another student: "No way. She's a Luke Bryan kind of girl."
• "I had a wedgie the whole time we were reading and I didn't even do nothing about it!"
• "My mom says my sister can't paint her face until she's 18."
• "My dream is to be a 15-year-old."

Welcome to my world. And for the record, I am a Luke Bryan kind of girl.

Extra Nugget #12

They need us. Badly.

Maybe I'm naive. Maybe I tend to ignore the injustice in the world. Maybe I simply forget. At any rate, every year I'm shocked at the realities that my students must go home to every day. Last year a teacher in Colorado asked her students to complete the sentence "I wish my teacher knew..." and the answers she got were heartbreaking. My partner teacher and I did this with our students today, and some of the responses left me weeping at my desk:

• "I don't have a great life. Other students have a great family, but not me."
• "I don't have a father. I have one, but he doesn't love me anymore."
• "My mom left me. I don't miss her... it was her fault she left, not mine."
• "My dad and my mom have problems. I don't see my dad."

This is their world. I come home to a cup of coffee and a husband who adores me. They go home to heartache and abandonment. Is it any wonder that they sometimes forget their homework? Am I really surprised when they can't seem to focus in class? I read these responses (and these are just a few of many) and I see a pervasive pattern of kids who feel forgotten, unloved, and cast aside. How desperately I want to wrap each child up and tell them the truth as our tears mingle: 

"I will not forget you! I have engraved you on the palms of my hand."

Isaiah 49:16

Sweet child, you were never forgotten. Even before you were born, He knew you. You have purpose. 

Luke wrote that the harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. I have news for you, teachers: the harvest is walking through our doors every day. Hearts ripe for the Gospel but hardened by harsh realities in their own homes. We cannot afford to let them leave our presence without knowing whose they are. No, we might not be able to share the Gospel with them. But we can love like Jesus loves. They obviously aren't seeing unconditional love at home. Let's be the ones to show them a small glimpse of what it feels like to be a Child of the King. Let's surprise them with kindness and shower them with grace. Let's encourage them with patience and inspire them with truth. Let's give them the hope that their world won't always have to be this way. Give them something to hold on to when they leave your room every day, because the house they will soon walk into will only greet them with despair. Give them hope, teachers.

Yes, the harvest is plentiful indeed. And they need us. Badly.

20 Things Every Teacher Thinks During Inservice

It's that time of year. School supplies lists are prominently displayed in every Wal-Mart and Target. Children are debating between Minecraft or Avengers backpacks. Teachers are preparing to only be known by their last names again. That's right. It's Back to School season.

While this is an exciting time for students as they decide which outfits to wear and think about seeing their friends, it can be a stressful time for teachers as they realize how much needs to get done before those small humans show up Monday morning. We are excited about the new year too, but the list of tasks seems to keep growing and growing until that first bell rings. Hang in there, fellow teachers! Somehow we will be prepared on time! Here is a small glimpse of what the week before the students return is like for every educator:

1. I'm glad school is starting, it'll be good to be back on a work schedule.... I think...

2. I wonder when we'll have time to work in our classrooms?

3. This year I will definitely not get behind on grading. What could possibly get in the way?

4. I'm going to use so much technology this year!

5. Who has time for technology when we have so much to cover?!?

6. I love being organized! I think this new organization system is definitely going to work all year long and be easy to keep up with. I'm sure I won't change it mid-year like I always have before.

7. Maybe we'll get to work in our classrooms today...

8. Maybe we'll get our class rosters today...

9.  I'M NEVER GOING TO GET MY CLASSROOM SET UP.

10. My bladder is NOT back on it's once-a-day schedule yet.

11. 20 minute break... is that enough time to go to Sonic?

12. This new curriculum seems so much better than last year!

13. Whoever wrote this new curriculum has obviously never taught before. 

14. When's lunch?

15. I wonder if I have __________'s little brother this year?

16. This is the year that my students won't lose every pencil they own. I can feel it.

17. Aww, these new teachers are so cute and motivated and unaware that college has prepared them for nothing.

18. This is a great 2-hour lecture about how to teach without lecturing.

19. How close is Starbucks?

And, lastly...

20. Bring it on, school year. Bring. It. On.

A Letter to my Future Students

As fantastic as summer has been, it's time to get real: School is starting just around the corner. Many of you may have started back already (God bless you), and the rest of us will be starting Monday. Right around this time I always start to think about the students that will walk into my classroom on the first day of school and I wonder what they will be like. I like to imagine that those same students are also wondering about what their teachers will be like. What would I tell them if I had the chance to talk to them before the year even begins? To practice their multiplication? To buy extra pencils since most of their will be lost within two weeks? Those are practical pieces of advise, sure. But I'd like to let those kids know a lot more. Having said that, here is an open letter to my future students:

Dear Little Minions,

Hello there! My name is Mrs. Murphy and I will be your math teacher this year in 4th grade. I'm sure some of you remember me from the days I had lunch duty with you last year. Yes, I spent those days wondering which of you would be in my class this year, and now we know! There are a few things you need to know as we begin this year. There are so many things I wish I could tell you... I wish I could tell you that every day will be fun in my class. I wish I could tell you that you will use every bit of math I teach you when you are an adult. I wish I could tell you that I will be kind and loving and patient every day. But I can't tell you those things. I can't tell you those things because they are not true.

You see, little ones, I want to be perfectly honest with you from the very beginning: I know there will be days that are hard. There will be days when you wonder "When will I ever need to use this?" In fact, on those days I'm probably wondering the same thing. I'll tell you the truth right now: the only time I ever use a protractor is when I teach you to use a protractor. That's just the way it goes sometimes, but I still have to teach you. Sometimes I will teach you things that are two or three years ahead of where your little brains are developmentally, and I promise that those days frustrate me as much as they frustrate you. And, yes, I hate standardized testing too. It's true! In fact, all of your teachers do. So, you see, we aren't that different, are we? Let's agree with one another right now that we won't let those frustrating moments overcome us, but that we will walk through them together. That's what I'm here for, after all.

I want to make sure all of you know the reason I teach. No, it's not because math facts are my passion. I became a teacher because I know that most of you have been forced to grow up long before you were ready, and I want my classroom to be a place where you can be a kid again. I don't know if you feel loved wherever you are now, but I teach so that when you are in my room you know that there is at least one person who thinks the world of you. When I see you, I see someone who was created on purpose and with a purpose. My hope is that we can discover what your purpose is together. I know that your world is unfair. I know that your world can be harsh. Little ones, your hands are too small to carry those burdens alone. Let me help you carry them. That is why I'm here.

Those are the reasons that I teach, but I need to admit to you that I don't always remember that. I need you to help me remember. On the days when I seem stressed, it's not because of you. It's because my job depends on how much you know rather than how well I know you, and that upsets me. But you, little ones, can help me remember the real reason I'm here. You can help me remember that I didn't become a teacher to get great test scores. Will you remind me on the days I forget? Remind me by giving me a hug when you see me. Remind me by showing me how excited you are about your new shoes. Remind me by telling me the real reason you didn't do your homework is because you were visiting dad in prison yesterday. Remind me by telling me the days you didn't eat any breakfast or dinner the night before. Remind me that the reason I'm here is because of who you are, not because of what I can make you do. I'll do my best to remember, but I need you as much as you need me.

I'm looking forward to our year together! I already love each one of you, and I can't wait to see all your new school supplies on the first day. Will this year be easy? Not always. But I guarantee it will be memorable. Let's walk together as we remind each other of our purpose, and 4th grade will be a year that I promise you will never forget. Welcome to my class!

With all my heart,
Mrs. Murphy

What I've Learned About Teaching

Well. Hello there. Yes, I know it's been almost three years since I posted anything. If you're an educator then you totally understand how crazy life can get and how easily time can slip away from you. If you aren't an educator, then we have nothing in common. (Ok, that might not be true... but it very well could be). I decided to get back on the blogging scene because a lot has happened in the past few years, and also because I truly enjoy writing about my experiences as a teacher.

First, I'll get you up to speed on what's happened since my last post in 2012 as a student teacher:

• November 2012: Started teaching elementary school
• December 2012: Began dating a cute boy
• December 2013: Married the cute boy
• July 2014: Moved to the Big City
• August 2014: Started teaching 4th grade at the best school anywhere in the history of places
• June 2015: Began a Masters program for Guidance and Counseling

And there you have it. Three years of my life summed up into six bullets. I'm torn between being impressed with my conciseness and disappointed at my lack of awesomeness. But, I must say, that third bullet has made my life way more awesomer than anything else I've ever done. Yes, awesomer. No judgement, I teach math.

I still can't believe that I'm about to begin my fourth year of teaching. I'd like to say that I can't believe it because time has gone by so fast, but it's mostly because I'm in denial that summer is almost over. Nevertheless, the past three years have zipped by in a blur. I've learned more in three years of teaching than I did in 4 1/2 years of college. Here are some extra nuggets I've picked up along the way:

Extra Nugget #8

Teaching is hard.

Calm down. No need to shout. I know it's shocking, but teaching is not for the faint of heart. Nothing in my life has made me more of an emotional train wreck than teaching (Except maybe engagement... sorry, Cute Boy. Your patience is quite chivalrous and I love you.) If you're looking for a job where you can feel defeated, stressed, tired, confused, and unappreciated, then teaching may be the job for you! Sometimes I wonder what ever made me choose this profession in the first place. Working with small humans is unpredictable and challenging, and often times I feel like all the hours I put in are not paying off. This is my field, and it's just how it is: teaching is hard.

Extra Nugget #9

Teaching is worth it.

My job is hard, no questions asked. I dare you to find a single teacher that disagrees. But my job is also worth it, and I think you'd be hard-pressed to find an educator that disagrees with me on that point as well. Yes, there are days when I leave school pulling my hair out and praying someone will finally put a coffee IV in the work room. However, there are days that leave me wondering why I would ever consider any other job...

 

Who else gets to see the quiet child finally come out of her shell the last weeks of school? 

Who else gets to be there to witness the "aha" moment when the lowest student does a math problem on his own for the first time? 

Who else gets to teach ten-year-old boys how to be a gentleman all year and finally see them opening the door for the girls in their class rather than running over them to be first? 

Who else gets to be there when a child comes back to school after losing his mom and just needs someone to hug him?

Who else gets to tell a young girl that she's beautiful, regardless of what her family tells her?

Who else gets to pray that a group of young people will discover their passions and the God who created them?

I do. We do. Teachers do. 

And those moments far outweigh the stressful times. Because the truth is that those small humans need someone to help them navigate this world, and I'll accept that challenge any day. Is it hard? Absolutely. I end each year unsure of how I made it out alive. 

But is it worth it? Undoubtedly.

Stay strong, teachers, as we prepare for a new school year. The small humans need us, and we can't afford to let them down.