in defense of public school teachers
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It saddens me that this sort of post is even needed. But when I read the news that 600 teachers have quit in our county this year, I couldn't not write something.
Why? Not because I'm a former public school teacher, though I could certainly take that angle. Not because as I put in on FB when this news first broke:
Adoption is hard, y'all. Oh, the stories I could break your heart a million times over with! Though it sounds a little cliche, it truly does take a village. I knew our church would rally around us (side note: y'all rock. thank you.) but I never expected our school community to step up as they have.
Blessed doesn't even begin to describe it.
Imagine having a little girl who was homeschooled for preschool enter your kindergarten classroom just 45 days after her life had been turned upside down by the arrival of a cute but demanding little sister from Taiwan and a mere 60 days before her world would shift again with her little brother's diagnosis of epilepsy.
Imagine receiving that same girl one year later and knowing your role wouldn't just be teaching her all that 1st grade includes but also supporting her through a prolonged absence while she traveled with her family to Africa to gain three more siblings.
Imagine being another 1st grade teacher who had a week's notice before the December arrival of a nervous and overwhelmed little girl who didn't speak much English, had only been in the US for two weeks, and knew more about life's hard realities than most adults.
I could go on and on about these three women who have loved us and our children well, as well as the teaching assistants and the ESL teacher and school counselor and assistant principal and principal and front office staff and... well, you get the picture.
So I'll just share one story that Patience's teacher shared with me. She meant it as an illustration of our girl's desire to learn and ask questions and understand the world, but? It struck me as an excellent example of our lengths these folks go for our kids:
These teachers, they are our people. They are for us, for our girls, for our family. They have sustained us in ways I never expected... and it makes me mad that they aren't valued as much as they ought to be.
From the article linked above,
So I'm going to ask something I almost never ask: would you be willing to share this? Because those who control teacher pay and raises and other supports need to understand the value of what these men and women do on the front lines of our children's lives.
After all, aren't our kids worth fighting for?
P.S. - To all my public school teacher friends, especially the ones pouring into my girls each day, "thank you" doesn't come close... but it's all I can offer. THANK YOU. You are invaluable. I'm so sorry that your paycheck doesn't reflect that.
Why? Not because I'm a former public school teacher, though I could certainly take that angle. Not because as I put in on FB when this news first broke:
When you don't pay them a salary anywhere near what they're worth, freeze salary increases, offer no raises for several years in a row, fill every public medium with constant complaints about the work they do, and then have the gall to talk about how nice it must be to have two months off in the summer (nevermind that it's unpaid time off)... well, this is no surprise. It is sad, though.I have to write something to brag about the amazing team of public school teachers and staff who have loved our family well in the past two years.
Adoption is hard, y'all. Oh, the stories I could break your heart a million times over with! Though it sounds a little cliche, it truly does take a village. I knew our church would rally around us (side note: y'all rock. thank you.) but I never expected our school community to step up as they have.
Blessed doesn't even begin to describe it.
Imagine having a little girl who was homeschooled for preschool enter your kindergarten classroom just 45 days after her life had been turned upside down by the arrival of a cute but demanding little sister from Taiwan and a mere 60 days before her world would shift again with her little brother's diagnosis of epilepsy.
Imagine receiving that same girl one year later and knowing your role wouldn't just be teaching her all that 1st grade includes but also supporting her through a prolonged absence while she traveled with her family to Africa to gain three more siblings.
Imagine being another 1st grade teacher who had a week's notice before the December arrival of a nervous and overwhelmed little girl who didn't speak much English, had only been in the US for two weeks, and knew more about life's hard realities than most adults.
I could go on and on about these three women who have loved us and our children well, as well as the teaching assistants and the ESL teacher and school counselor and assistant principal and principal and front office staff and... well, you get the picture.
So I'll just share one story that Patience's teacher shared with me. She meant it as an illustration of our girl's desire to learn and ask questions and understand the world, but? It struck me as an excellent example of our lengths these folks go for our kids:
During the first week of school for Patience, it rained a lot, as evidenced by the rain jacket in her first-day-of-school pics.
One day, her teacher was reading them all a book about rain, and during the part in which the girl in the story stomped in rain puddles, Patience raised her hand.
"What puddle?" she asked.
"Do you know what a puddle is, Patience?" her teacher asked.
Our girl shook her head.
Well, it was raining outside, so her teacher asked a teaching assistant to take over for a few moments, and she walked hand in hand with Patience out of the classroom, down the hall, out in front of the school, and right up to a puddle.
"This is a puddle," she said. And then she had Patience stomp in it, just like the little girl in the book.
And then, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary, she walked with Patience back to class and resumed the rest of the instructional day.
From the article linked above,
“This is an alarm cry. I need somebody to care, and I need somebody to recognize the problem, and I need the people who can do something about it to listen and respond,” Dr. Jim Merrill, Wake County Schools Superintendent said.I care. I see the problem. And while I might not be in a position to do something about it, I hope my words will reach those who can.
So I'm going to ask something I almost never ask: would you be willing to share this? Because those who control teacher pay and raises and other supports need to understand the value of what these men and women do on the front lines of our children's lives.
After all, aren't our kids worth fighting for?
P.S. - To all my public school teacher friends, especially the ones pouring into my girls each day, "thank you" doesn't come close... but it's all I can offer. THANK YOU. You are invaluable. I'm so sorry that your paycheck doesn't reflect that.