The Life and Times of Mrs. Schunk
Well, I have been teaching for five years now. And, honestly, I am completely and officially burnt out.
I have taught preschool, second grade, third grade, fourth grade, fifth grade, and Title One reading support. That is six positions in five years--in case you can’t count.
When I was little, I would play teacher constantly, writing endless names on notebooks and teaching from my miniature whiteboard that was my favorite toy. I would spend countless hours locked inside my room teaching my students (usually stuffed animals). For some reason, my older and wiser brother never volunteered to be one of my students--I wonder why? My bossy personality lent itself completely to this play profession. All of my students would get A’s and B’s, except for one, who always got an F. He was usually a boy.
As I grew older, I thought about different careers, but eventually settled again on teacher. I helped out in one of my former elementary classrooms in high school and I was instantly sold. I wanted to grade papers, lead small groups, teach long division, make a difference. This was it.
I attended Indiana University with a major in Elementary Education and a concentration in African Studies. I was devoted, studious, excited. I graduated, completed my student teaching in Indiana, and set off to Kenya to complete my overseas portion (oh, and also to fall in love). It was hard, but it was glorious. I knew this was what I was meant to do.
I began my teaching career in inner city Indianapolis. My kids were wonderful, but difficult behaviorally and emotionally. I had very little support, no mentor teacher, and an extremely difficult principal. I persevered. I tried my best. I failed at so many things, but I kept pushing. I loved those kids so much.
Then, the voices of others started to get to me.
“You don’t have enough control.”
“What are your objectives?”
“Why are you giving them so much recess?”
“You can’t have recess at that time.”
“Your clothes are too tight.”
“Keep your kids quiet in the hall.”
“Don’t let them wiggle so much.”
I left my school mid-year of my second year. It was the hardest decision I have ever made. I felt like a failure. I wasn’t taking care of myself. I wasn’t happy. I had gained quite a bit of weight. I was coming home, getting in bed, and crying. It was our first year of marriage.
Then, in Bloomington, I taught at a preschool for a while. I healed. I had support, love--and joy filled me. However, another opportunity came along. I felt I needed to take it. After all, my degree was in elementary education--not early childhood. I filled in for a maternity leave in Title One reading support. I enjoyed it, but felt that the school wasn’t the best fit for me, overall.
In the meantime, John and I discovered Rosslyn Academy. We knew this was right for us. We applied, interviewed, were hired. We were moving to Nairobi, Kenya! We were so excited.
As we prepared to move to Kenya, after the maternity leave ended, I filled in for an early retirement at John’s school. It was fifth grade. It was fun and for the first time, I worked under a supportive principal.
Teaching at Rosslyn Academy for the last three years has allowed me to blossom so much. I have learned so much. I have become an effective teacher. I’ve had a supportive principal, mentor teachers, and excellent and fantastic partner teachers and co-workers.
But, still there have been voices. Voices that have pulled me down, made me cry, set my jaw in anger and resentment (*None of these voices have come from my co-workers or principal. I am extremely thankful for the support I have been given here at Rosslyn*). Voices that I wish didn’t matter to me so much.
And so, today, I have decided to start listening to my own voice. To the voices of my husband, my principal, my fellow teachers, my students, my friends. I have decided to take care of myself. I have decided to make another move, to find more joy.
I will be working to write and implement curriculum and support teachers in the process. I will also be working part time in learning support--teaching students one on one and supporting their academic learning. It has been a long journey, but I am excited for what is to come next. I am excited for the opportunity to learn more about myself and grow professionally.
And maybe, just maybe, what I’m meant to be is a little bit different than what I thought. Maybe, what I’m meant to be is an adventurer, a lifelong learner, a friend, an artist, a reader, a wife, someone who makes a difference. And, maybe, that is exactly ok.
So, here’s to all you teachers out there--maybe it’s year 1 or year 30. Keep doing what you’re doing. You’re making a difference, no matter what the other voices say. You are loved. You are valued. Never forget that. Listen to your own voice. Listen to the voices of positivity in your life. Take care of yourself and your family. Listen to the kids who say, “I am thankful for Mrs. Schunk because she always helps with a smile!” and, “You are the teacher who made me love school!” These are the voices that count.
-R
I have taught preschool, second grade, third grade, fourth grade, fifth grade, and Title One reading support. That is six positions in five years--in case you can’t count.
When I was little, I would play teacher constantly, writing endless names on notebooks and teaching from my miniature whiteboard that was my favorite toy. I would spend countless hours locked inside my room teaching my students (usually stuffed animals). For some reason, my older and wiser brother never volunteered to be one of my students--I wonder why? My bossy personality lent itself completely to this play profession. All of my students would get A’s and B’s, except for one, who always got an F. He was usually a boy.
As I grew older, I thought about different careers, but eventually settled again on teacher. I helped out in one of my former elementary classrooms in high school and I was instantly sold. I wanted to grade papers, lead small groups, teach long division, make a difference. This was it.
I attended Indiana University with a major in Elementary Education and a concentration in African Studies. I was devoted, studious, excited. I graduated, completed my student teaching in Indiana, and set off to Kenya to complete my overseas portion (oh, and also to fall in love). It was hard, but it was glorious. I knew this was what I was meant to do.
I began my teaching career in inner city Indianapolis. My kids were wonderful, but difficult behaviorally and emotionally. I had very little support, no mentor teacher, and an extremely difficult principal. I persevered. I tried my best. I failed at so many things, but I kept pushing. I loved those kids so much.
Then, the voices of others started to get to me.
“You don’t have enough control.”
“What are your objectives?”
“Why are you giving them so much recess?”
“You can’t have recess at that time.”
“Your clothes are too tight.”
“Keep your kids quiet in the hall.”
“Don’t let them wiggle so much.”
I left my school mid-year of my second year. It was the hardest decision I have ever made. I felt like a failure. I wasn’t taking care of myself. I wasn’t happy. I had gained quite a bit of weight. I was coming home, getting in bed, and crying. It was our first year of marriage.
Then, in Bloomington, I taught at a preschool for a while. I healed. I had support, love--and joy filled me. However, another opportunity came along. I felt I needed to take it. After all, my degree was in elementary education--not early childhood. I filled in for a maternity leave in Title One reading support. I enjoyed it, but felt that the school wasn’t the best fit for me, overall.
In the meantime, John and I discovered Rosslyn Academy. We knew this was right for us. We applied, interviewed, were hired. We were moving to Nairobi, Kenya! We were so excited.
As we prepared to move to Kenya, after the maternity leave ended, I filled in for an early retirement at John’s school. It was fifth grade. It was fun and for the first time, I worked under a supportive principal.
Teaching at Rosslyn Academy for the last three years has allowed me to blossom so much. I have learned so much. I have become an effective teacher. I’ve had a supportive principal, mentor teachers, and excellent and fantastic partner teachers and co-workers.
But, still there have been voices. Voices that have pulled me down, made me cry, set my jaw in anger and resentment (*None of these voices have come from my co-workers or principal. I am extremely thankful for the support I have been given here at Rosslyn*). Voices that I wish didn’t matter to me so much.
And so, today, I have decided to start listening to my own voice. To the voices of my husband, my principal, my fellow teachers, my students, my friends. I have decided to take care of myself. I have decided to make another move, to find more joy.
So, next year at Rosslyn, I will be the Intellectual Virtues Coordinator.
Check out the link here to find out more:
I will be working to write and implement curriculum and support teachers in the process. I will also be working part time in learning support--teaching students one on one and supporting their academic learning. It has been a long journey, but I am excited for what is to come next. I am excited for the opportunity to learn more about myself and grow professionally.
And maybe, just maybe, what I’m meant to be is a little bit different than what I thought. Maybe, what I’m meant to be is an adventurer, a lifelong learner, a friend, an artist, a reader, a wife, someone who makes a difference. And, maybe, that is exactly ok.
So, here’s to all you teachers out there--maybe it’s year 1 or year 30. Keep doing what you’re doing. You’re making a difference, no matter what the other voices say. You are loved. You are valued. Never forget that. Listen to your own voice. Listen to the voices of positivity in your life. Take care of yourself and your family. Listen to the kids who say, “I am thankful for Mrs. Schunk because she always helps with a smile!” and, “You are the teacher who made me love school!” These are the voices that count.
-R
"And maybe, just maybe, what I’m meant to be is a little bit different than what I thought. Maybe, what I’m meant to be is an adventurer, a lifelong learner, a friend, an artist, a reader, a wife, someone who makes a difference. And, maybe, that is exactly ok."
ReplyDeleteRileigh, I LOVE this, and so resonate with it. I think letting go, listening to new voices, choosing joy, being willing to make changes . . . are all choices that take an incredible amount of courage. It feels condescending to say "I'm proud of you," but maybe what I mean is that I'm proud of US ("us" being everyone on a journey to keep listening to their lives, choosing life, etc., even when it involves hard choices). I'm excited for this next step in your adventure, and I hope it's everything you need and desire it to be.