So Guys...I'm Not a Teacher Anymore

Teaching days

This post is a little late.  About six months late actually.   Because that’s almost how long it’s been that I could type this and have it be truthful: I’m not a teacher.  Eeeh, that’s sort of hard to write even though it’s true.  It shouldn’t be hard because I transitioned to a different job November 28th--that date is sort of burned in my brain--and that was almost six months ago.  It shouldn’t be that hard either because I do still work at the same school I’ve been working at for the past three and a half years.  

But it is hard still.  I moved down the hall and around the corner into an office that is much larger than it needs to be considering I’m not actually responsible for directly educating specific students anymore.

When we came back from Thanksgiving break on November 28th, I became the Instructional Coach at Sandburg.  A chain of events had begun just before school started in August that led to my friend who was our Instructional Coach when the school year started to become our Assistant Principal, and left a position open.  

It wasn’t a position I had been coveting, it wasn’t something I had really ever even thought about before, but suddenly I was being asked to apply for a position that would take me out of the classroom and further away from my students.  

That was the hard part.  Being further away from my kids who were as much a part of me and my day as cooking or sleeping or reading.  

I spent a good long time considering if it was possible to leave my kiddos.  I spent a long time considering if there was anything I could possibly do to help the school that would justify leaving the kiddos.  I wondered how I would be at this job.  I wondered if I would like it.  

I could’ve stayed there wondering for a long time.  I asked friends and colleagues for advice, and the piece of advice that stuck with me was the idea that it was simply an opportunity, and not something to walk away from.  A door had opened, and I may find that on the other side was something I didn’t necessarily love, but that would still be valuable knowledge, both personally and professionally, that would help me understand my own self and my own future.

So, I walked through it.

Walked through the door that took me from teacher to coach, though I admit that when I meet someone casually, who I won’t be likely to interact with ever again--the girl doing my nails, the man giving my car an oil change--I still just tell them I’m a teacher.  

It’s not that I’m ashamed or unwilling to talk about it or regretful.  It’s that there are a decent amount of people in my building that aren’t sure what an Instructional Coach does, so I don’t expect people who aren’t in the education field to have much of an idea of what that means.

What is does mean is that I still care deeply about the students in my building and what they’re learning, but instead of just teaching a handful of them myself, I work with as many teachers as I have time for who will have me. I try to help move people forward, try to expand their capacity, and their thinking.  I try to help them see the abilities that are already within them or give them additional tools in their toolbox depending upon the person.  

It means right now that I pull the scores for our standardized test scores and pray the numbers are what they need to be.  

What it has meant for me personally is that I’ve gotten to see a ton of different teaching--I had never imagined the vast range of things people are doing within my school.

I do like it.  I actually like my job a lot.

I think I might be starting to be okay at it.  It’s been a hard journey, accepting the idea of not being great at something new right away, especially when it’s meant walking away from something I think I was pretty damn good at. I think given some time, I might be good at it.  We’ll see.

Leaving the classroom behind is tough.

I’m happy, and grateful, that there are several students who continue to be mine despite transitioning to a new role.  The boys I had last year as seventh graders, and who began the year as my eighth graders were the ones I never worried about.  As I told several people, they would find me no matter where I went in the school.  But it warms my heart to the fullest level that my assumption was correct.  They come every morning before class.  They come during lunch as often as I’ll let them.  And a few show their faces for snacks sometimes in between.  They come when they get kicked out, or when they’re bored, or when they think of an excuse their teachers will sign a pass for.  They come saying, “Ms. Short, I need to talk to you,” and every time I hope it will be something I can help them with.  My favorite is the time two needed to talk to me about one starting to date a girl their other friend also liked and not knowing how to tell him about the relationship.  Not because I enjoy adolescent drama, but because so often these boys face terrible, grown-up problems I can’t help them with.  I’m slightly addicted to seeing them act like average middle school kids.

The problem will be next year as I truly know one seventh grader and know only the names of a few others.  Will I still like this job then when I don’t have kiddos who count on me, when I’m not sure I’ve made anyone’s world directly better?  Only time will tell I suppose. I’m not sure.

No matter what, I am glad I’ve walked through this door.  I’m not positive I know what on the other side of it, not fully.  I do know, that administration is not the next step for me.  My colleague’s transition from coach to assistant principal has made many think that’s my next move as well.  Spoiler alert: it’s not. Not only do I have no desire to do it, I also don’t have the qualifications.  Maybe someday I will (I really wouldn’t hold your breath though), but not today.

Other spoiler alert--I can’t go back to California, not to teach with CTY for three weeks anymore.  My new position isn’t technically a promotion, but it is an 11 month contract.  Which doesn’t leave time for three weeks of jaunting out to the West Coast.  That’s the other part I’ll miss.

But, I see ideas for change--good, strong, positive, hard change in my school and I want to be a part of them.  And I think that my current position would let me do that. And if, after a few years, I think I don’t think does anymore, or I moved away to a place that doesn’t have a coaching program, I would be pretty content to be back in a classroom again.

But until that day comes, I’m going to soak in as many chances to hear, “Ms. Short, I need to talk to you,” where the speaker has full faith in my ability to make things even slightly better.  And hope that eventually it will not only be teenagers, but adults coming to me for help.  

And hope even more that I can deliver.

Females Are Strong as Hell

I didn’t go to the March on Washington today, and my reasons were purely selfish.  The idea of getting on the Metro with the tens of thousands--hundreds of thousands of women--who were also heading into the Mall made me feel claustrophobic and sick and antsy just thinking about it.  But I was going to swallow all that when my sister-in-law was going to come down and go with me, though when her family suffered a loss, I didn’t seek out anyone else.  And I knew, even before I saw the photos from today, there were other people I could’ve gone in with--I told you, it was selfish that I didn’t go.

It wasn’t that I didn’t agree with the platform that these women were, are, supporting.  I agree with probably about 95% of what they were marching to bring awareness to, the rights they were looking to defend.  (And let me tell you, I’ve come to realize in the last almost six years of living here--if you agree with even 55% of the message someone in this town is pushing, you should grab on with both hands and refuse to let go.)   

It made me feel like a lousy feminist that I didn’t go downtown today.  Sisters, I am with you.  I am so proud of how many women stormed our nation’s capital today and refused to be silenced, refused to be ignored, refused to be marginalized.  I am overwhelmed, because I know that for every woman that walked today, there are probably two or three (or many more) women behind them, supporting them and cheering them on, just like me.

Here is what I know.  We have put a man into a position of incredible power who has said things which minimize violence, struggles, and assaults against women.  

He has offered up blanket statements about whole groups of people which are not accurate, educated, or reasonable.   

He has made insinuations which lead me to believe he doesn’t understand sexual assault--neither the definition nor the all to frequent reality for too many women across the country.

So, today across the world, women raised their voices.  

I did not march today, but I am raising mine now.

A few days ago, I was talking to some teenage boys who, for whatever reason, have made me their person at school.  They are often misunderstood, often get frustrated, and come from difficult countries, difficult homes.  And they have been rude lately to an adult at work who has been making very legitimate requests of them.

In the middle of the week, I kept telling them, they had to be polite to this particular woman.  “Why?” one of them asked me.

“Because she’s a person,” I said, exasperated.  It wasn’t a cop out. It was what I truly believe.  It is yet another thing I know--that simply being a person demands dignity, and a degree of politeness and respect.

It is totally unnecessary to like everyone.  To be friends with everyone.  To agree with everyone.  Jesus, protect us from blindly agreeing with anyone simply to keep the peace.

That is what I know. I also know a few other things, though you might call them beliefs.  I know that God was not surprised by what happened in November. I know that He has not turned His back on us.  And I know that in the midst of darkness, of confusion, of chaos, He call us to turn to the light of love.

He calls us to love our sisters and brothers.  To distinguish ourselves by our ability to love others.

To realize that people, even when they’re the modern day equivalent of lepers or tax collectors, deserve not only a meal, but a place with the King.

We move out of what I know, though I don’t lose a lot of confidence in my guesses.  

I can guess that today will not be my only opportunity over the next four years to speak out for rights, dignity, and strength of people who have been demeaned.

I can guess that loving each other, showing support for one another, and banding together as people who stand for humanity--in all sort of different ways--will be the only thing that keeps us together.

Today offered proof of something I’ve known for quite some time.  It’s something most of the world will freely admit after seeing the show of strength and unity we put on. I do not know, cannot guess, can only hope about how our new President will see it.   Let him admit--even if only to himself, in the secret places of his heart--what we know to be true:  Females Are Strong as Hell.