Another Teacher Leaves the Profession

I cleaned out my classroom, turned in my keys, and submitted my letter of resignation. 

I am no longer a teacher.

I have to admit that with the attacks on teachers in the state of Michigan, it is a move I have contemplated for a while. As I have mentioned before, my school is considered a failing school, so who knows how long we could hang on until the privatization pirates had their way with us.  Frankly, I truly believe they have already done a masterful job of throwing the first shovel of dirt.

The "turn-around" partner, IRRE, was heavily endorsed by the now former principal.  What they have brought to us has, in my opinion, been failure.  Teachers now forfeit three hours of their prep period a week for meetings.  Only the most unctuous of kool-aid drinkers believed these meetings are useful.  The consensus seemed to be that these meetings were ways to simply keep us busy.  Several of us believed that these meetings divided the staff (there were four different groups) in a way that destroyed cohesion. People were always rushing around because we lost our planning time. I feel that the loss of time at work really triggered my depression.

Despite these changes, I stayed.  I loved (still do) my students and they energized me.  My rationale to myself was that the kids are the most important aspect to remember.  Sadly, my depression raged until I took my leave.

I grew nervous as the time drew nearer to my return to work.  I needed help and support if I was going to be successful.  In July, I asked for accommodations under the Americans with Disabilities Act. My primary request was to have only two teaching preps in three classes. When I first made this request in writing to administration, the now former principal "misread" my request as a request to reduce my schedule. 

 I re-submitted my request to the new principal. All anyone needed to do was to switch my 4th hour English 10 with another teacher's English 11 and we both would have two preps. Instead, he said that the only option that was available was to take my AP Literature and my English 11 and switch them for two English 9 classes. How that is easier is beyond me, as I had previously informed him that I had already planned out two months of AP. 

Luckily, I received an offer for a labor movement related job.  I took it.

It is sad that so many managers in many different fields have taken to treating their employees like children: to be seen, but not heard.  It is sad that micromanagement is such a prevailing trend.  It is sad that so many employers refuse to acknowledge the basic humanity of their employees.  

I have taken a huge step into a new life and I am excited.  I start tomorrow, while former colleagues suffer through yet another annual video presentation about blood borne pathogens.  I wouldn't trade places with them for anything in the world.

Memo to self

I've just finished watching The Joy Luck Club with my English 12 class. I had forgotten what a good movie it was, but how vastly different it is from the book. I don't wish to quibble with those changes (though my students did NOT appreciate the changes at all). Instead, for the past two days, a line from the movie has been echoing in my head. Rose's mother tells her that she must remember what she is worth. I am pretty guilty of not remembering my worth. All too often in our society, we value monetary worth far over any other kind. I know, however, that I am worth far more than my paycheck quantifies. Perhaps I am overwrought with work-related stress, but I feel a need to remind myself of my worth.

1. I am worthy of respect and dignity.
2. I am worthy of time to just plain relax.
3. I am worthy of friends who will support me.
4. I am worthy of friends who will visit me in my home.
5. I am worth of a clean house.
6. I am worthy of a few pages of fun reading every night.
7. I am worthy of the effort to drop a few pounds.
8. I am worthy of being told I am beautiful.
9. I am worthy of being shown that I am desirable.
10. I am worthy of a few road trips.
11. I am worthy of forgiving myself for my daily boo-boos.
12. I am worthy of my dream.
13. I am worthy of my son's smiles and hugs.
14. I am worthy of the opportunity to play my music loudly.
15. I am worthy of peace and quiet.

Well, that's more like it. I even feel a little light just having written that.