The End of My Teaching Career

I’m being evaluated out of the district

I have been a teacher for almost twenty-one years. I entered teaching because I was tired of being a cog in the corporate wheel, The private sector wasn’t doing me any favors. It would pay me the money I deserved — despite all the work I did. As I saw colleagues younger than me hit six-figure salaries, I was trying to make ends meet on much less. I decided that I could make the same amount of money and have a bigger impact on education.

I never thought I be a teacher in my 20s or 30s. I figured I’d teach when I was in my 60s after experiencing all that life had to offer. I could give students the benefits of my life experiences and incorporate my life lessons into my instruction. But things changed and I entered the profession several decades ahead of schedule.

I began in the early 2000s. I taught 9th-grade English Language Arts. My first year was also when my first child was born. It was a crazy year. I had four classes with over 25 students each. A couple of my classes were great — the students were engaged, respectful, and fun to be with. The other two classes were a different story — one class had a split personality — sometimes they were fine and sometimes they were a nightmare. The final class was a nightmare — rude, crude, and attitude. The class was so bad for all of the teachers referred to the class as “them.”

Fast forward to 2016 and I was teaching 11th and 12th grade. Unfortunately, my school was in deep trouble. Our test scores were abysmal, attendance was low, and administrative support was even lower. Basically, the admin wanted the students in class and out of the halls. But they really didn’t care if the students were learning or not. Most admins spent most of their time on their cell phones, laptops, or offices. If a teacher needed discipline support, it was hard to come by.

Because of the school’s academic standing, the revolving door of leadership, and student behavior, the state wanted the admin to remove 50% of the staff. Everyone had to reapply for their positions whether you were a custodian, secretary, or teacher. School leadership wou;d hand;e interviews along with representatives from the district headquarters.

Despite my keen interest to remain at the school, I was ousted from my position and sent to teach 6th-grade English and History. The middle school, while closer to my home, was a new experience for me. I had spent so many years working with teenagers and now I was instructing preteens. It was like my first year of teaching all over again.

While I had worked with younger students in afterschool and summer programs, it was a different situation during the school day. Some of my students were nice, respectful, and eager to learn. Others were crass, rude, and defiant. In addition, any comments I made towards the students were taken out of context and immediately reported to admin.

The principal, who was new to the position and the school, soon made it clear that he was a dictator. Numerous teachers, including myself, were often in his office for investigative meetings. Offenses could be not contacting a parent or reacting to a student’s inappropriate behavior. And the meetings were often unnecessary as the students involved showed they had discipline issues. The principal displayed favoritism towards Latino students as he himself was Latino. So often, Black students and teachers were disciplined at a higher rate.

After three years under this principal, things at the school were tense — to say the least. Teachers vied to have the principal’s ear. Cliques were formed. Teachers turned on each other to gain the admin’s favor. It was hard to trust anyone. Then — the pandemic happened.

In March 2020, our district had to go remote due to the spread of COVID-19. The World Health Organization (WHO) had announced a month earlier a global pandemic. In my state, school districts were shutting down and switching to remote learning. My city was one of the few holdouts to make the switch. The mayor at the time didn’t believe families would be able to handle having the children home for an extended period of time. But that thinking was quickly shot down as the infection rates surged in the city. Our schools had to close.

For the rest of the school year, we had remote instruction. It was not a fun time. I enjoy the personal aspect of teaching. Remote teaching was foreign to me. Despite some training, it was difficult to connect to students online. Oftentimes I would stare at black squares, wondering if the student was even there.

This situation went on for over a year. As the pandemic raged beyond anyone’s expectations. There was a lot of learning loss. Many students weren’t showing up for class. I’d reach out to parents but many were overwhelmed by having their kids at home.

In addition, the principal was still on my back. Going through my call logs and having me work with the literacy coach on my instruction. He even took away one of my classes that was actually going well. I was angry and embarrassed. I consider myself a good teacher, always willing to adapt and expand my practice. The principal treated me as if I were stupid — he even called me such during a meeting.

The principal’s appraisal of my teaching abilities was the beginning of the end of my teaching career. Even though he was sent to another school, his evaluation of my abilities was treated as gospel. I had special evaluators come in over the past two years, working with me on my instruction. But I think the psychological damage has been done.

I’m the type of person who takes pride in their work. I thrive on praise. I want to make people happy with my work. But ever since the principal called me stupid, something shut down within me. I felt myself drifting away from the island of instruction. Teaching is a tree I no longer wish to climb.

Over the years, I tried many times to exit the classroom. I wanted to be in a leadership role. I even took two leadership programs to learn how to be a leader. I’ve interviewed for positions in the district only to be denied. I saw other teachers move into district roles while I remained to teach. I felt trapped in the classroom.

Now, in 2023, I’m facing removal by the district. Despite the fact that teachers all across the country have been leaving the profession in droves, including in my district, my dedication and determination to remain is being ignored. My district has never liked me. I feel targeted. I’ve tried to follow the directions of the evaluator and felt my practice getting back on track. But it was never enough. She always found something wrong. I was always falling short in her eyes.

Now, the waiting game begins. My evaluation has been posted to the online evaluation system. Anyone with access can see the report. Human Resources can also see the report. I’m sure they’ll be preparing the documents that will lead to my dismissal. It’s a bitter pill to swallow. I’ve given so much and lost so much to this district. They’ve taken my youth, my confidence, and my energy from me. They’ve left me broken.

My future is unclear. I’m trying to figure out my next move, I have skills. I have knowledge. I need to monetize my experiences. I’m doing research and learning from books and online resources. Deep down, I know I’ll find a way through this nightmare. I’m smart and I’ve been through a lot, especially over the past eight years. Survival is in my DNA. But now I want to thrive. I haven’t been happy in years.

Time is not on my side. I’ve spent over twenty years in a profession that has left my hollow inside. I can’t get those years back. But I can move forward and use my time more wisely. I can’t let the district win. They want me to beg and plead for my job. But I won’t give them the satisfaction. I plan to find my joy. And prove them wrong.