Lent 2014: Entry #4
One of the things I enjoy about teaching teenagers (and children in general) is that most of them are truly honest about how they feel about the world. Granted, some of their honesty is overflowing from ignorance, arrogance, or both, but still, that's material I can work with. I admire their energy and their passion, and to be honest, sometimes that's one of the few reason why I walk into the classroom day-after-day.
So as my employment has dwindling down and students start determining their schedules for next year, there have been days where I've literally felt physically sick. When students (both ones I've taught and those I haven't) come up to you and say, "Can't wait to take your class next year," or, "You were the best math teacher I've ever had," or, "I won't take Algebra 2/Trig if I don't get you as a teacher," it really makes me want to throw-up. To a teacher, hearing that is supposed to make you feel great. But when you know you're leaving in four months, but haven't been cleared to tell students that yet, its torture to say something lame in response like, "Well, guidance counselors can't guarantee anyone, and other teachers can more than capable of teaching the class too." That's not the answer they want to hear and that's not the answer I want to give. Up until a little while ago, that is what I had to settle with - instead of returning honesty with honesty.
As far as staff and students have known, March 11 was the day I resigned, but I've known for almost a year now that I wasn't going to be back at the end of this year. There's been a lot of insincerity, and at points, flat-out lying, just to protect myself and any hope of future employment. I despise lying. As I've already outlined, it's been more than challenging to live with myself lately, let alone to keep myself confident and assured that I'm the teacher that I know I am. I'm just thankful that I have last year's results to remind me of my worth.
All this is a backdrop of what happened this week at school. Since March 11 (the board meeting) there have been a fair number of teachers and paraprofessionals asking me about my resignation, but it was clear that the students hadn't found out yet. So I waited, wondering if the whole thing would blow over, or if I would have to explain myself. Predictably, some student found out about it, and as we all know, there are no secrets among teenagers; word gets around quick. When one of my own students found out Thursday, I was fortunate enough to have one of my teacher friends give me a heads up. I wasn't ready at the time to add any fuel to the fire - I thought waiting one more day would ensure that more people would hear it.
It was hard, but it was refreshing to be honest with my students for the first time all year - March 28. I told them that I wouldn't be returning after this year. They asked questions. I gave them unsatisfying answers. I teared up. They teared up. And then I got memorialized with my first Twitter hashtag: #SaveKovac. Reactions varied greatly and accurate to their characters. Louder students when went immediately to vent on social media, funny kids used humor to cope, shy kids stared in quiet disbelief, activists vowed to make t-shirts with the hashtag on it. Many of them said they are going to write letters or sign petitions. Although I'm honored by their outrage, and even though I don't put it past some of them to actually follow through with their knee-jerk reactions, I doubt anything will change. At the end of the year, I'll still be gone.
However, it's undeniable that I am comforted by their words; their response has validated and invigorated my teaching. I know that on Monday when I walk into my classroom, the students will be wondering how I'm going to lead them through the rest of the year. They might be surprised, yet comforted, that I'll be doing the same thing I've been doing for the last three years - teach math and tell bad jokes.
...just that they'll probably start laughing at my bad jokes now.
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