Why did I quit teaching?

Introduction

I think, in some way or another, I have always been passionate about education.  This is for two reasons. First, I am fascinated by systems and the way they work.  Education, and public education in particular, is an enormous political, social, and economic system in America, so it's very interesting to think about from that perspective.  Second, I have had a very checkered educational and teaching experience personally, so I have a bit of a unique perspective on it as well.

Since I want to write and research education, I thought a good place to start was my own story.  That story has a particular turning point: the day that I quit teaching.

While I am concerned in large part with the state of the educational system in America, it strikes me that all this hinges on two factors: a student and a teacher.  There have always been students-- children who want to learn (voluntary attendance) or else are made to attend school by social and legal pressures (compulsory attendance).  For the foreseeable future, the kids aren't going anywhere-- a majority of parents still want their children to attend public or private school (though their reasons for it may vary).  But what about the teachers?  Are there still people out there willing to educate both children who want to learn and children who are compelled to attend?  If education is a right, rather than a privilege, is a requirement that we as a nation are capable of fulfilling?


Teachers are quitting at an alarming rate-- so much so, that I fail to understand how they are even being replaced.  While we as a nation begin to consider the future of education, I think that the stories of teachers who quit and teachers who stay can provide the most crucial information for preserving, repairing, or recreating a system that will operate effectively-- because without both the student and the teacher, all the administrative policies, standardized tests, and government grants will be but a travesty of reform-- full of sound and fury, but signifying nothing.

Getting the Job

When I finished my Masters in English degree from a large public university, I knew I at least needed a break before considering a doctorate.  Research I had conducted during that time indicated that higher education (college/university) was undergoing a similar situation to the housing boom-- inflated inventory and low return.  I had spent six years in higher education, racking up tens of thousands of dollars in student loans.  At the beginning, it felt worthwhile-- I was learning about the language and literature I had loved since I was a child and had the prospect of a safe, well-paid, tenured career as a respected professor.  But the more I learned about my future career, the more disappointed I became.  It was clear that universities no longer hired many full tenured professors in the liberal arts. Instead, while dozens of graduate students earned Master's and Doctorate degrees, the same departments educating them chose to hire most of its teaching staff as adjunct professors-- a part-time position with poor pay, few or no benefits, and very little respect.  Adjunct professors were "the help", teaching low-level courses, having few resources for continuing their research, and little influence in their department.

With this inauspicious outlook, I decided to table the doctorate for a while and seek a job in the "real world".  I applied for a variety of entry level jobs all over town, and received some encouragement from one to look into freelance grant writing.  But since I had to support myself, I did not have faith that I could make enough money as an inexperienced freelancer, and instead looked for full-time employment.

When I found an advertisement for an English teacher opening at a local private Christian school, I knew that I must apply.  The previous year, I had renewed my relationship with Christ and become active in the singles ministry at a large church.  A Christian school seemed like a great place to bolster my new faith.  I also would be teaching high school seniors and Advanced Placement English, as well as co-teaching a Humanities course.  It seemed like a great fit, as I had spent the previous year in graduate school teaching English 101 and 102 to college freshmen-- students only one year older than high school seniors.  How different could it be?

The Daily Grind

I interviewed and was hired for a position that had been open all summer long.  Perhaps the long-term opening should have been an indication to me that something was wrong, but at any rate I was excited to have landed a job.  My first day as an official employee was the first day of school-- I had not yet seen the curriculum or any of the the textbooks.  It was a small school, with only about 100 students per grade level, and only one subject teacher per grade level.  The head of the English department was actually the admissions counselor-- a friendly but very busy woman whose first advice to me was along the lines of "Don't smile on the first day-- being tough at first will get you more respect than being nice."  I had no idea how to not smile at children and had barely just scraped together a lesson plan for that day, so I just tried to make the best of it.

Perhaps I should have taken her advice, but I wasn't so sure.  Most of our department meetings were canceled that year, so I didn't get much opportunity to learn from the other English teachers, two of whom were also brand new to the school and one of whom was the daughter of my predecessor, the previous Senior English teacher.  From what I gathered, my predecessor had taken the "be tough" advice to the point that she was fired shortly before Senior graduation.  Various students and faculty sang the praises of this "tough but wonderful" teacher, while others decried her as extreme.  While I naively tried to treat my students  more like adults with the tone of college English classes, I soon came to learn that high school was a whole different ball game where classroom management skills were equally, if not more important than content knowledge.  From outright disrespect to casual disregard, I encountered a host of student problems that left me confused and emotionally exhausted.

The whirlwind year seemed to take a toll on others as well.  One fellow English teacher was fired mid-year.  By the end of the year the headmaster resigned, as did a number of other teachers, including one of my Humanities co-teachers and our department head.  Chalking up my exhaustion to  inexperience and starting behind from the beginning, I signed up for another year and hoped for better.

The Beginning of the End

My second year was an accreditation year, in which all teachers were required to submit detailed lesson plans for their curriculum.  My predecessor had left behind information that was incomplete, so I had to put in hours of paperwork completing the Senior English and AP plans according to the strict accreditation standards.  Our new headmaster conducted numerous faculty meetings which seemed to repeatedly focus on "perfection as our goal"-- something that sounded pretty ridiculous to me in a building where both photocopiers were repeatedly broken, the campus phone system was shut down for three days, and the best classroom desks we had were hand-me-downs from another school.

As time went on, burnout crept in, blending with physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion.  In addition to teaching Senior English and AP English, I helped co-teach a weekly Humanities course with two other teachers.  Together we were the three Senior Advisors, responsible for supervising additional special events such as a senior talent show, homecoming, graduation, and a week-long senior trip to Washington D.C..  Seniors were also required by the school to complete an 8-page research paper, the preparation and grading of which fell to me.  Although I had just finished six years of collegiate English in which I was only required to complete projects of that length in my junior year, it was made clear to me by other staff that this requirement was not going away.  I was drowning in my workload, often leaving school in the afternoon to go home and nap, then returning after dinner to burn the midnight oil in my classroom alone as the janitor vacuumed the hallways.  I once asked another teacher how it was possible to keep up with it all.  His advice?  "I drink a lot of coffee."

I became bitter and depressed, and unfortunately, I did not handle myself in a mature way.  I was often late for early morning staff meetings, and was once verbally reprimanded for it.  I began to think of ways out and started looking for other jobs.  I knew that I was making about $8,000 less than I would at a public school (this disparity is not uncommon, despite popular belief) and thought I could maybe make even more in a different field.  At least working 8:00 to 5:00 and going home with no papers to grade, no lessons to plan would be a relief.  So, when I was asked to commit for a third year, I signed yes, intending it to be a backup plan if I was unable to find something else over the summer.  I justified this bit of deception thinking that if other teachers had been fired mid-year in the past, there should be no problem with me resigning mid-year.

Toward the end of my second year, the headmaster had a meeting with me and said he noticed the workload seemed to be overwhelming me.  He thought I would have an easier time with a lower grade level and intended to move me down the next year.  Though I realized I didn't have a choice in the matter if I wanted to stay employed, I was upset.  The lower grade curriculum was in a period of literature with which I was much less familiar than that for seniors-- part of the reason I had applied for my original job.  It also meant I would not get to co-teach Humanities, one of the favorite parts of my job.  In retrospect, I should have been willing to try something different and to have faith in my more experienced supervisor.  However, I was paranoid, clinging to the safety of what I already knew and distrustful of this administrator.

My fellow Senior Advisor teachers were dismayed when I let them know I would probably not be with them next year, and they promised to advocate to the Headmaster that I stay with the Seniors.  However, I continued to fantasize about leaving and when students asked if I would be back next year I shrugged and said, "I don't know."  Word of my response got back to the headmaster in the last weeks of the year, and he called for a private meeting with me.  I still recall his final words: "If you don't want to be here, we don't want you here."

It had never occurred to me that wanting to be somewhere else was a reason for me to asked to leave. It had seemed like plenty of other teachers at the school were unhappy and wished they could be somewhere else too.  But it was clear that the jig was up, and I agreed to turn in my resignation.  My fellow Senior Advisors were informed of my decision and the school let them take me out to lunch on its dime at a local restaurant, which was nice.  We discussed the future, and also my impending exit interview with the Human Resources department at the university affiliated with the school.  One of them asked me if I thought I would ever teach again.  I said, "I think teaching will always be part of my life."  Helping other people learn was something I loved, but I just wasn't sure how to do it.

When the exit interview arrived, the standard questions were reviewed, but I recall one with distinction.  I was asked, "Is there anything you would have liked to see done differently?"  I answered that I wish there had been some kind of mentorship program in place, as my friends who were first-year public school teachers had.  The HR person said that was something they heard a lot in the exit interviews.  I remember wondering that if they heard it a lot, it was surprising they hadn't done anything about it.

Looking Back

Graduation came and went.  I cleaned out my classroom and said my goodbyes, as did some of the other teachers who were also resigning.  Altogether, I was tired and glad for a break.  I would miss some of my fellow teachers, who were great colleagues, great people, and great Christians.  I would miss some of my students, who could surprise me with their insight, creativity, and generosity.  I would miss talking with them about life and helping them with their college applications.  A number of them have gone on to be successful in their chosen careers-- parents, professionals, graduate students-- and although I am doubtful of my contribution to their success, I am proud of them.

I am also sure you can tell, dear reader, that there is a lot I don't miss.  Sadly, my story is not unique.  A brief bit of research will show you that many teachers quit for the same reasons, all of which boil down to a bad working environment.  For example, I recently read a book by Dr. Kevin Leman called The Way of the Shepherd.  It tells the story of a young reporter who interviews a successful CEO for the keys to creating a great work environment.  The CEO relates the lessons he learned about leading others as a shepherd leads his sheep-- caring for them, pouring into them, constantly checking on them, and protecting them fiercely and vigilantly.  It seems that most schools operate from the opposite of these principles, leading with a shrug and a platitude like "It is what it is."

This Friday ends Teacher Appreciation Week in the U.S.  If you are a teacher who has left, or a teacher who has stayed, would you share your story in the comments section?