COVID-19 Remix
INTRO
Mr. Morath, Gov. Abbott, and everyone outside the classroom making decisions for those of us in them:
I teach 8th grade science at a Title I middle school in Texas. I’m also the volleyball, basketball, and track coach. And I’m an artist, a friend, a giver, an avid reader, a daughter, a future wife, and a human.
Oh, I love music, too. It’s one way I make sense of the world.
I have two questions for those outside the classroom: (1) Do you know what is asked of a classroom teacher? (2) Do you know what it takes to be a good teacher? I thought I knew once. I wanted to help shape our world, to make a better place than the one I grew up in. I wanted the chance to put others before myself. I wanted to wrap science lessons in hope, music, inspiration, fun, and life.
That’s what I wanted to do. But—
I’m not sure what it means to be a good teacher anymore. And I don’t know if I’m capable of giving what is now being asked of me.
VERSE: The My Dream.
Being a teacher is being in the business of helping others realize and achieve their dreams. Watching someone else grow into who they really are meant to be is a satisfaction better than anything I might have imagined. You know that feeling when your heart feels right? That’s what I feel as I see my students become decent and loving humans, and smart too!
There’s lots of dreaming in schools. So much of life happens at school. Kinder through senior year, think about it. Dreams of possibility of who to be, of how to do it. Dreams realized and dreams crushed. I spend my own dreams every single year on those students who don’t feel worth it, who don’t feel like they have the stuff. Every teacher has at least one. For the student who isn’t good at math but goodness… can they sing! For the student who is deciding that being their true self is better than hiding any part of them. For the students still searching for direction, for affirmation, for a place. And for the group of students, every year, that walk across the stage, imagining what is ahead for them. “Say what you want to say… I want to see you be brave.”
Time and again, teachers help students find a way. That’s the job. That’s the dream. They’re wrapped together. Giving of yourself is part of that. Like so many jobs, being a teacher often requires a pouring out of oneself. It’s a job for others. And it’s a job that is often othering.
CHORUS: My Confidence.
One of the hardest things for humans to accept, I think, is feeling inadequate. I know I’m a good teacher. In my heart I really believe this.
But the doubt creeps in. Often. I find new reasons to question if I am good enough all the time. Probably most teachers do. We’re criticized by people who do not understand what really goes into being a teacher. Just about everyone has been to school, and everyone has an opinion about schooling. Of course it’s OK to have opinions! So much of what we’re trying to teach students is how to think critically, how to form opinions, how to support their ideas and make an argument. So it’s not the criticism that hurts. It’s the uninformed criticism that beats and beats and beats and wears me down. Criticized by the students and parents we are trying to help. Criticized by politicians and leaders who might not have ever even been inside a public school classroom. And now the roar of criticism just feels like it’s coming in from all sides, from society all together. You know what it feels like? It feels like the ones we are pouring ourselves out for, have turned against us. You take and then ask for even more. “You can take my wings but I’m still gonna fly”.
We have long (always?) had an uphill battle as educators. We have had to fight for respect, fight for support, fight for funding, and fight to prove our competency. But now we are fighting for our lives. Literally.
BRIDGE: My Life.
Every school year, at some unknown time, an administrator comes on the loud-speaker and announces, “Lockdown. This is a lockdown.” Immediately and simultaneously, we spring into action. Students: silently get out of sight of all windows and get low on the floor, hoping to be hidden by a desk. Teachers: instruct students to do what we have practiced: turn off lights/projectors/working music, silently pray, check that the door is locked, take attendance, pray, check the door again to be sure, remember that ‘student’ just asked to go to the bathroom and hope they are hidden too, pray again, determine what in the lab could be used to barricade the door or block the bullets, whisper to the students that we’ve got them, think to ourselves ‘I hope I’ve got them’, and then wait…wait…wait for the signal to get up and continue on as if nothing happened. Hopefully it is a drill, but we won’t know until the end. And during all of this, I know that I will do whatever I can for my students. I had no idea this would be required of me when I began teaching. But when it was, I did it, over and over again. You’ve read the news stories of teachers shielding students from bullets. I wonder how many stories we’ll read this year about teachers dying from COVID-19.
VERSE: My Heart
Here I am, again, being asked to do things I could never have imagined. Only this time the enemy isn’t an active shooter; it is a deadly virus, a global pandemic. Doesn’t it also seem like the people in positions of power are conferring so much risk on so many, while not really being in the fray themselves? This time, it is harder to know what to do. This choice isn’t as simple as figuring out how to handle an active shooter (and believe me, that is not simple).
If I do what my teacher heart needs, I put my students, their families, the community, my family and myself at huge risk. If I do what my teacher heart needs, I accept everything asked of me. I’ll spend my own money again, though not on normal school supplies like pencils, but on disinfectant and plastic sheeting to protect my classroom as best as possible from being part of spreading the virus. If I do what my teacher heart needs, I write my will and prepare my family. Maybe I’ll find somewhere else to live so I don’t bring anything home to them. If I do what my teacher heart needs, I’ll teach. Yet—
What kind of teacher would I be if I showed my students the answer is to sit back and take disrespect and bullying instead of stepping up and speaking out for what is right? What kind of teacher would I be if I did not continue to advocate for their safety and what is best for them (even if the politicians or even their own parents don’t always agree)?
So many things are asked of teachers. And as a teacher, I don’t ask for a lot. I am going to ask one thing of those making these decisions, however. Please, look in the mirror and ask yourself if you want to send your own children, or wives or husbands back in the classroom with the possibilities that await. Ask yourself if our positions were flipped, would you be okay with someone else making a decision based on money and politics instead of the significance of your life and the lives of all others.
CODA
We teachers agree with you on more than you may think or see. School is so important—emotionally, academically, and for so many other reasons. But unfortunately, right now, it isn’t safe, and that is also extremely important.
“Reading, writing, arithmetic are the branches of the learning tree; but without the roots of love, education ain’t complete.” These lyrics are exactly how I feel. I love every past, present and future student with my whole being and want nothing more than to be in school, face-to-face with them. But, I love them enough to live what I teach and analyze and live by the science (I am a science teacher after all). I love them enough to live what I teach and not put their safety, and my own, on the line.
“We have no apologies for being…” Teachers shouldn’t have to feel bad for wanting a safe workplace. We shouldn’t be chastised for caring about life; that’s sort of in our job description. Consider this: if I do what my human heart needs, my teacher heart breaks. My two hearts are in conflict. The truth is I am not ready to not be their teacher. Please don’t force me to choose.
With the respect I hope to also get one day,
Ruby Mae Curie is a science teacher and coach in Texas. “Ruby Mae Curie” is a pen name for the purpose of this blog. Although she has chosen to remain anonymous, she hopes her pseudonym, inspired by education advocates and leading scientists, evokes the gravity of the reasoning behind not only her letter, but education reform as a whole.
Lyrics used (in order):
“Say what you want to say… I want to see you be brave”. – Brave by Sara Bareilles
“You can take my wings but I’m still gonna fly”. – Q.U.E.E.N by Janelle Monae
“Reading, writing, arithmetic are the branches of the learning tree. But without the roots of love, education ain’t complete.” – ABC by The Jackson 5
“We have no apologies for being…” – Wild Things by Alessia Cara