Last Day of School

I packed up all my stuff. Ripped up old papers for the recycling bin. I cleaned off the furtinure and stacked the desks and chairs in the back of my classroom. The books for the classroom library are stowed away in crates. Everything that I want for my classroom has been labeled with my name and room number.

It’s been a difficult year. I’ve spent the past year, staring at blank screens, being Zoom bombed, and grading assignments on Google Classroom. When the virus levels began to ease, the teachers in my district transitioned back to the building for 2–3 days out of the week. We went from remote teaching to hybrid instruction. Eventually, more students began to appear in our classrooms.

We have ended the school year with in-person learning. While some families opted for remote learning, I had nearly fifteen students in my classroom. Teachers had to learn concurrent teaching — instructing students in the classroom and teaching those students still at home. It was a balancing act that I do not want to do again.

It was challenging to engaged students in the classroom without disengaging from students online. I did my best to make sure that my remote students were a part of the classroom experience. I had my in-person students sign into the Zoom and went back and forth with students speaking out loud and students providing answers in the chat. Some students were happy to share in either space and some students remained silent.

The year has been fraught with administration questioning my teaching ability, dinging my evaluation, and calling me nothing less than stupid to my face. The person who I thought would support me through this mess went mute during a meeting between myself and the principal. While he yelled at me, she sat on the screen looking like a frightened child awaiting her turn. I felt betrayed by her silence as the principal made me feel like a novice teacher.

Truth be told, I had been dealing with this principal for five years and almost every year there was drama. I was called into his office at least once a year for some imagined slight I allegedly committed against a student. When I explained my side of the story, it was dismissed as nonsense. I was found guilty without a fair trial. My confidence was nearly nonexistent.

While I love my students, many of them wanted to see me fired and reveled in the trouble they had caused. While most students supported me, others would spread rumors that would lead to the principal’s ears. One female student had her mother call the school to complain about me — and the situation didn’t involve that student. I was getting hit from every side. My voice was lost in the chaos. Between a demeaning principal, heartless students, and overreacting parents, it was a wonder I was able to get through the year at all.

But now, as the 2020–2021 school year comes to an end, the weight of the year has lifted from my shoulders. I’m relaxed as I pack the remainder of my materials and get ready to sign out for the day. I have learned a lot about myself as a teacher and plan to reflect on my practice over the summer. I already have some ideas that I want to use to educate my students in September.

Despite how I’ve been treated, I know I’m a good teacher. I make an impact on students’s lives every day. Their growth is evident from September to June. My students have learned something from me. There’s never a dull day in my classroom. I bring humor and energy into my lessons. I’m receptive to feedback and want to increase my skillset. Respect is the main thing that I want from administration. Respect who I am and what I offer to students. When you see me in the classroom, magic happens. Minds open. Possibilities grow.