Giving Thanks for Teachers

I can remember the exact semester in college when I knew I wanted to be a teacher. It was the spring of 1994, and I took one of the two education courses the College of the Holy Cross offered at that time. Denis Cleary, himself a Holy Cross graduate from the Class of 1971, was the professor while also teaching full-time at Concord-Carlisle Regional High School. Cleary was engaging and inspiring while at the same time, not sugar-coating the work it takes to be a high-quality teacher. 

As a part of the syllabus, we read Savage Inequalities by Jonathan Kozol. The entire book was stunning to me, but particularly this fact: in 1986 - 1987, the Mt. Vernon Public School System spent $6,433 on my seventh-grade education. The neighboring town of Bronxville, NY, spent $10,113 on their seventh-graders' education. That's an almost 60% difference for those who lived less than ten minutes from my home. Why was my education worth less than someone else's? This question drove me into the field of education. 

The desire to teach has led me on a varied path over the past twenty-five years. I've taught classes from first grade to high school to graduate school and many of the grades in between. The path has also led to leadership opportunities, including the last nine years serving as a superintendent. Whether in the classroom or in a leadership role, I've watched the trends in education, school safety, funding, and sports. There's always been a sense of "do more with less," and somehow, we've come to know this as a regular part of our educational landscape. There's something about the selfless nature of teaching, the "other-centeredness" of education, that has led to a tacit acceptance of this mantra. 

Perhaps is the uncertainty of this pandemic's end. Perhaps it's the frustration with the haphazard approach to slowing it nationally. Perhaps it's the violation of the public health directives displayed on social media. 

We all enter into education for different reasons. I don't know what inspired my colleague superintendents or the educators in my building. I do know this, though, I did not choose this profession to be an essential worker. And yet, here in 2020, my teachers are essential workers. 

I chose not to be a firefighter for many reasons, the main one being, I know I'm not a human who wants to run into a burning building. I want to be the person walking out. I can honestly and humbly say that I'm a helper, not a saver. 

I'm aware that my teachers are experiencing something this year that I never experienced as a teacher. I don't know what it's like to show up to a classroom full of children who may have the COVID-19 virus. I don't know what it's like to be afraid of the choices families made over the weekend. I don't know what it's like to truly have concerns about safety in the classroom - a place that is supposed to be sacred for students and teachers alike. 

And while my teachers are doing this, teaching in the most stressful year of their entire careers, they're being watched and scrutinized to a higher level than normal. And that's saying something. This is not doing more with less. This is moving mountains with less. 

While there won't be anything "normal" about this year's Thanksgiving, I owe, we all owe, a debt of gratitude for the teachers that are showing up every day to teach. I am asking that every person reach out and say thank you to a teacher this week. Find the time. Make the time. Teachers are already superheroes, and this year, more than ever, they need to feel our love and our gratitude. 

In a tweet last March, Nicholas Ferroni (@NicholasFerroni) shared that this pandemic has already revealed three things: 

1. Schools are so much more than schools.
2. Many people now realize how tough it is to be a teacher and that teachers are grossly underpaid.
3. Teachers are irreplaceable and essential to learning and education.

And that was in March. 

We are facing a second wave in Vermont, and our teachers are still showing up. Every day. Because they believe in the power of education. Every day. For someone else's children. Every day. In the midst of a global health pandemic. Every day. I promise you, with trepidation in their hearts and their heads—every day. 

Find a teacher this week. Find a way to be genuine. Find a way to be sincere. Find a way to be heartfelt. 

And say thank you. And mean it with everything that you have as a human being.