The Realities of Being a Teacher

I write my blog posts in advance, so while you’re reading this in February, I’m writing this on a Tuesday in December – the day of the teacher strike in NSW. First one in 10 years. Controversial.

Lots of statistics are being thrown around, lots of angry parents complaining that it’s ANOTHER day of missed school this year after lockdowns, others reminding us all that teachers have great holidays – so what is there to complain about?

In part, I can see their side of things. What child doesn’t come foremost in the eyes of their parents? Of course they’re upset. Unfortunately for them, that’s rather the point. A strike is MEANT to frustrate people, to inconvenience them, to enrage them – to make people talk, to show people how important the workers are. So, let’s talk.

I’m a teacher. My husband is a teacher. My mother is a teacher. My parents-in-law are both teachers. I’m not unfamiliar with the oft-reported pressures of being a teacher – I’ve witnessed it, for years, and I’ve lived it, for years. Why, then, would I become a teacher? Simply, it’s because I love it. Like most teachers, I love being in the classroom, working with the kids, helping them learn academic content and skills, helping them learn how to navigate a working environment with their peers, seeing them light up when something ‘clicks’, or they find a new interest. That is easily the best part of my job. It’s fun.

I wonder if this strike is really getting the key points across in a way that most teachers would agree with… Casualisation of the workforce is an issue, absolutely. I’d like some stability and certainty so that my husband and I can pay our mortgage without worrying about the future. Pay is an issue, yes. Many teachers cannot afford to live and work in the same area – or even within an hour’s distance. More than that, though, pay is an issue not just in terms of the amount, but in terms of the sheer amount of hours worked. I can honestly say that in the last few months, while I’ve been on maternity leave, my husband has barely had the chance to see me or our daughter. He works before school hours, after them (often until the early morning), and he works weekends. I’ve no clue where people get the idea that teaching is a 9-3 job. Alternatively, he tries to bond with our daughter while working. It’s both darling and heartbreakingly sad to see.

On average, I’m in the classroom with kids for 4-5 hours per day. Some days are more, some are less. I also have roll-call and mentoring – about 20-30 minutes per day. I might have a lunchtime duty, but that’s not as interactive with the kids; it’s not the same opportunity to get to know them as young people. When in the classroom, I’m ON. It’s a performance. Kids feed off of the teacher’s energy, and off of each other’s, so it’s important to be at the top of your game all the time. It can be an exhausting job, though you often find you’re running on adrenaline. It’s a thrill.

For it to work, though, for your lessons to be fun, engaging, purposeful and SUCCESSFUL (and that’s never a guarantee), you need to be PREPARED. As you gain experience, you find you’re able to run with things a little more, because you’ve an endless supply of resources in your memory bank. I don’t need to prepare to teach kids how to deconstruct an essay question – I have resourced this, and I KNOW it. I don’t really even need my resources. A whiteboard and a marker will do. But for a first year, or a teacher working with content they aren’t as familiar with, a one-hour lesson might require 2-3 hours of planning.

Initially, you even plan things like how you’re going to enter the room, how you’re going to line the kids up, or how you’re going to manage roll call, or where kids are going to sit. You might plan how your desks are going to be arranged, what procedures you’re going to have in place to manage behaviour. You also need to think about how you’re going to gauge student interest, the success of your lessons, whether students are paying attention, which students are struggling, which need extension and which kids are so shy that nothing will induce them to ask for help. You also have to pay attention to the social dynamics – is anyone being excluded or isolated in any way? Is anyone downcast, overly tired, or otherwise not themselves?

Additionally, I might need to spend lesson time on things like timetabling, study strategies, study timetables, how to be organised, how to set up your study space to work effectively, trips to the library to help kids pick something to read (please read, kids, please)… Can you see how these hours and responsibilities aren’t adding up? I haven’t even mentioned the admin. Every time a parent calls or emails, it must be logged. Every time I reward or punish a child, it must be logged. Every time I speak with a student about their bad day, or their hardships, I have to keep their mentor informed, sometimes their parents (log it!), sometimes an administrator or the school psychologist. LOG IT. I must do my marking, enter grades, keep notes on each child so that I can track their progress and write their reports, I must meet with students to discuss the feedback I gave them or give them some one-on-one help with their work. It doesn’t all fit in the school day, sadly. Most of it, I must do in my own time – which takes away from my family.

Lockdowns and online learning made things hard for me. Miserable, if I am honest, and I was definitely lucky, in many respects. Living in Sydney, my lockdown experience didn’t feel quite as endless as it must have for those in Melbourne and wider Victoria. I’m also fortunate enough to be working with kids who have laptops provided by the school, so access was an expectation we were able to have of our students, though I know that was not the case for all.

But it was miserable because it was HARD. That thrill brought by being in the classroom? Gone. My classroom management strategies? Gone. That oh-so-important interaction with the kids? Gone. And, with it, my ability to glance around the room and SEE. See who isn’t engaged, who is struggling, who already knows the content, who is having a bad day and needs some TLC, who doesn’t understand the instructions, who hasn’t done the work, who did the work too quickly and clearly didn’t focus on depth of comprehension and learning. That experience of SEEING the kids, helping them, feeling a part of their learning journey is why I became a teacher and why, most of the time, I love my job. I think many teachers would agree with me though, in saying that lockdown really highlighted some of the more difficult parts of the profession and made me reconsider my work/life balance. I don’t really have a point, here. Just wanted to share and expose some of the hardships of being in a school – but also the joy I find in it. Food for thought, I suppose.

In turn, I’d love to know more of a parent’s side of the situation. What were your hardships? What were your joys? Let’s inform one another, and build a healthy discourse. Maybe that’s a place to start.