I've been out of school for one week now, and I haven't written here for six. Everything seems strange, as it always does in late June when my body still wakes at the same hour but the entire trajectory of my day has shifted.
I started to write all about this first week of summer, but I'll write about our summer days later, as I always do. Today I need to address something I've written about before, but apparently, some of my friends and acquaintances need a reminder. So here you go: I respect your right to have whatever opinion you like about public schools and "kids these days" and whatever you think the problems are.
But. I am not the right person to use as a sounding board. I am not your target audience. And I do not appreciate what could have been a pleasant conversation about a book I'm reading that has nothing to do with school or teaching to spark whatever rant you need to have.
It's exactly like mansplaining, but it's not always men doing it. What's the word for that -- maybe edusplaining? Teachers, raise your hand if you know exactly what I'm talking about. Hi, I went to public school once, please let me tell you all my thoughts about it.
If there is some aspect of public education -- especially in your local community -- that you care about, or that you're concerned about, and you'd like to have an actual conversation about that, I am all in! Especially if you're willing to listen, and especially if you'd like to actively engage in improving education for all kids. And if you don't actually work in public education, then you do need to listen. It may not surprise you to learn that those of us who give our lives to this work have a pretty good sense of what kids need, what we need, and the urgency of it all. Our perspective on these things might surprise you (especially if you base your huge sweeping opinions on your own schooling or your kids' schooling), but that's where we can have a conversation.
But attending public school in the eighties or nineties doesn't make you an expert. Attending public school in a particular time and place doesn't make any of us an expert on public education. And cool, I'm glad your daughter graduated from a school in my district and that's why you say with great authority that it's "such a ghetto school." I'm super impressed that you marched right into the vice principal's office of your child's middle school -- because the principal was clearly intimidated by you -- and told him exactly what changes needed to happen. And please tell me yet again how you could see being a teacher yourself, but "not in public school, not with these kids."
Also, and this is important: I trust parents to make the best decisions for their children and families. We all walk different paths, as it should be. I do, however, get a tiny little bit irritated when parents demand excessive validation for those choices. If you talk about "those other kids" when you talk about why you don't want your kids in public school (or why you wouldn't want to teach, despite our blissfully easy schedules and lavish amounts of time off), please know that it absolutely will affect my opinion of you. (It does not help, not even one little bit, if you tell me you're sure my classes aren't like that. Oh, my lord. Please just stop right now.) You are probably one of the people I don't want reading my Facebook stories about my students. Today's edusplainer doesn't get to read them. I will not offer up my kids for entertainment to those who turn around and use kids to further their own biased narratives. But that's also a pity, really. Your kid probably could stand to learn from "those other kids." That's not always easy or comfortable, and I do understand wanting to keep things for our kids easy or comfortable. I truly do. But we're raising human beings, here, so I believe in opportunities for supported and guided discomfort. Because I also believe in empathy, and you don't learn empathy when you're comfortable.
If you just need yet another place to explain how you think the schools have gone downhill, or if you need me to listen to why you're so glad your kids aren't in school anymore or why you wouldn't send your kids blah blah blaahhhhh, then seriously, go away. I don't have time to listen to this with my Polite Face.
If you know me, if I let you in on my stories, I hope you already understand that when I'm exhausted and discouraged in May it's not that I don't love this work. It's the opposite, really. I've lasted this long and survived these cycles again and again, and I go back because I love it. I haven't written here in six weeks (I'm a little sad about that now; I've had so many great stories to tell), but what I want right now is to tell you that I ended this year as much in love with this work as I ever have been. I desperately, desperately need a break to catch my breath, to gain a little perspective, and to find my footing again, but I ended the year feeling the way I wish everyone could feel about their jobs. And I have yet to find an edusplainer who loved their work as much as I love mine.
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