We become doctors and PhDs and professional athletes.
We do not settle.Ever.
So, I’m sure Erik assumes I’ll make it past this momentaryblip and go back to work in the fall after I have some time off to recharge, but I’ve felt this coming on for a few years. Hell, maybe my whole career.
I made it past the statistic of most teachers quitting in the first five years, but it’s this sixth year that has put the nail in the coffin.
Being a teacher is not for the faint of heart. Being a teacher in a Title I school is even harder. Being a learning support teacher in a Title I school? Like building a sandcastle in the middle of a hurricane.
For almost as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a special education teacher. My siblings and I are CODAs, Children of Deaf Adults. With a Deaf mother, I saw firsthand how education needed to be accessible to everyone, and I still believe that. I simply don’t know if I’m a person who can do it anymore.
I don’t know if I can watch my kids continue to slip through the cracks.
I don’t know if I can break up another fight.
I don’t know if I can spend another lunch period on cafeteria duty.
As a high school learning support teacher, I assist the general education teachers to adapt their lessons for my students, who read below their grade level, anywhere between third and sixth grade, usually. On top of that, I have a caseload of thirty Individualized Education Plans, which means I spend a lot of time in meetings and writing up reports, making sure my kids receive everything they need during the school day. But of course, they need just as much support outside of school as well.
Because more often than not, these children are the ones who are forgotten about. They come from poor households. Sometimes they have relatives in the prison system. Most of the time, they have only one parent or guardian at home. Some do not speak English. All of them need attention and love, more than I can give them, even as I wish I could.
The school doesn’t have enough resources, and theadministration is caught between a rock—the government—and a hard place—the local community. The behavior of some of the students is out of control, with no repercussions, and whileIusually have no problems with my kids, I know they can be disrespectful to other teachers. I’m not sure what even happened, but a few weeks ago, I watched Ronny be put in handcuffs, and I haven’t been able to obtain an answer about what happened to him, other than he had a physical altercation with a teacher in the hall, and they were pressing charges. I haven’t seen Ronny since I witnessed him chest down on the floor, pleading for me. “Miss, please! Help me! I need you!”
I threw up in the faculty bathroom after that.
I’ve lost weight, stress stealing my appetite, and every morning, I wake up dreading the day and what it might bring. And I don’t know if it’s worth it. As much as I love my kids, I don’t think I can do it anymore.
But before my thoughts can spiral again, my brother asks, “Where are you right now?”
“Outside of school.”
“I’m going to stay on the phone with you until you’re home.”
“Thanks,” I mumble and readjust my position in my car seat, so I can drive home. While I do, he catches me up on his life, which is the same as always, working out and preparing for the upcoming season, except that he has a trip to take.
“I booked a flight out to Iowa for tomorrow.”
“Why are you going there?”
“You didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?”
“Camden’s parents died. It’s been all over the news.”
I suppose it would be since Camden Long is the leading tight end in the NFL, alongside my brother, who is quarterback for the Philadelphia Founders.
I gasp. “Oh my god.”
“Yeah, it was a bad accident with a tractor trailer.”
I exhale a low breath. “How is he?”
“I haven’t talked to him much, but a lot of the team is attending the funeral. I’m going to spend the weekend out there in Cedar Falls with him.”
Although I’ve met my brother’s best friend and teammate on a few occasions, I don’t know him that well. Which suits me fine because he’s a giant asshole, but I still feel bad for him. To lose both of his parents suddenly is unspeakable.
“Can I do anything? Send anything?”
