Unearned Attributes

Dear Governor Hutchinson,

Thank you for your continued commitment to excellence in Arkansas education and for your technology initiatives.  It is your passion and dedication to our students that I most admire about you.  As a National Board Certified Teacher who spent 16 years teaching AP English, I too, am committed to providing the best opportunities to our students who are so full of potential.

I heard you speak at an Arkansas high school, and so I know that you know who teachers are, but I still feel compelled to write to you because recently we’ve been imbued with several unearned attributes during the debate about face-to-face instruction. 

Some say that teachers don’t want to go back to school because we are lazy, but that is only because they don’t see Aubrey, mother of two, pulling in to her parking spot every morning before the sun has risen so that she can double check that everything is in order for another day of stellar instruction.  Aubrey leaves around 4:30 PM, so she is rarely there in the evenings when Micaela (the teacher across the hall from her) is in her room grading essays and responding to emails from parents, colleagues, and administrators all while her Lord of the Rings soundtrack plays.  The don’t see Sharon—who also leaves before Micaela because she has to let her dogs out—as she eats dinner while responding to student emails.  She gives feedback to students on their latest writing, then posts the lessons, notes, and links for tomorrow’s class in Google Classroom before getting ready for bed. Tomorrow is another day that she must be her best.  Why? Because her students deserve nothing less. 

Because that is who she is. 

Other critics say we don’t want to go back because we are freeloaders. But they don’t see Autumn’s bank statement each month and her purchases for everything from pencils and paper to pop tarts and feminine hygiene products.  What do these have to do with education?  The pencils are for Chelsea who never has pencil or paper because she is essentially raising her three younger siblings, and, if on the walk to school, one of them needs a pencil or paper, she gives them her own.  The school supplies are for her so she can do her work. It also saves her from embarrassment.  Those stone throwers do not see the network of classrooms in each hall and in each wing that are designated as student pantries.  Walk into these classrooms and you would never know of the pantry’s existence because it isn’t marked.  There is no announcement about its existence.  The students who need to know about it do because a teacher or another student has told them about it.  How is the pantry stocked? Where do the pens, paper, folders, notebooks come from?  The same place that the deodorant, soap, shampoo, toothpaste, crackers, waters, and granola bars do—from a teacher’s shopping cart.  Why?  Because we love our students, and we can’t bear to watch them come to school and be made fun of because they weren’t able to bathe or change into clean clothes the night before.  Because we see how tired and hungry Lance is. He works a job weeknights closing up at a local restaurant and doesn’t get up in time for breakfast; he needs to eat so he can learn. 

Or consider that once October rolls around, teachers know it is time for the annual coat drive.  We watch for sales.  We raid our own closets at home.  We go to the clearance racks so that our kids won’t have to do without this winter.  Then, in the second nine weeks, it is time to get our angel from the Salvation Army Christmas tree in the counselor’s office so that we can buy presents and needed items for our chosen angel.  The week before Christmas, the counselor comes to my room because there is a student at the junior high with a brother and a sister who have nothing for Christmas.  Can I help?  Of course.  Would any other teacher do the same?  Of course.  That is who we are. 

We are givers not takers.

Still others say that we don’t want to go back to school because we only care about ourselves—the implication being that we don’t care enough about our students.  They don’t see Brittany slide a note onto her teacher’s desk as she leaves class.  The next day, 16-year-old Brittany asks her teacher if she saw the note.  The teacher did, and they plan to meet after school. Why? Because Brittany is terrified to tell her ultra-conservative parents that she identifies as transgender, and she wants her teacher’s help in wording the letter just right in hopes that somehow, some way, they won’t kick her out of the house and disown her.  While they work on the letter, the teacher counsels Brittany, constantly assuring her that she is not a bad person, assuring her that she is not broken, assuring her that she is not crazy.  Did Brittany come to her teacher because she felt like her teacher didn’t care? We all know the answer to that.  

On another day, class ends and the students turn their journal writing in on the way out of class.  The teacher picks up the stack and begins to read.  Corinne’s letter is on top.  The more she reads, the faster her blood pumps, which is odd since all of the color has drained from her face.  It is the last period of the day, so she drops the papers and runs out of her room, calling to another teacher to cover her class until she gets back.  She races down that hall, then another, and another until she arrives at the counselor’s office.  She has to speak to them immediately.  She speaks to Corinne’s counselor for half of 7th period, only leaving once they have located Corinne.  As her adrenaline ebbs, the teacher walks slowly back to her room.  She glances out the windows to the thunderstorm outside.  After school that day, the teacher returns to the counselor’s office to check on Corinne.  Corinne’s parents have already come to take her home and the social worker is following up with them.  The teacher and the counselor each grab tissues as tears flow down their faces.  If Corinne had driven herself home that day, she was going to drive off a bridge.  (It wasn’t until the last few weeks of Corinne’s senior year that she returned to that teacher and hugged her with all her might and whispered, “Thank you for caring so much about me.  You saved my life that day.”)

Teachers love their students like they were their own children.  That is who we are.

I know there are problems with not going back into the classrooms right now, but teachers aren’t asking not to go back right now because we are selfish, lazy, or uncaring.  In fact, the opposite is true.  We are asking that we delay face-to-face instruction until it is safe for all of us to return.  We care as much about our welfare as we do our students and all our families.  Granted, there are significant issues with not opening all schools this month, but who are we as Americans and Arkansans?  In today’s global community, we are the creative thinkers, the innovators.  That is our global niche.  So, let’s keep on generating creative, innovative solutions until this pandemic passes.  Many cite the quality of online instruction as a reason to return to school.  This is valid, and the best way to fix this is for teachers to be able to focus all of their attention on online instruction and improving those lessons instead of having them prepping for in-class instruction one week and online instruction the next.  Or, heaven forbid, having to do both at the same time!  That only ensures that none of the instruction is of the caliber it should be—or could be. 

We can also address the non-instruction issues that teachers take care of. If students go hungry when they don’t come to school, then let’s address that just as many districts have been doing.  If we have the cafeteria workers make the food, the bus drivers deliver the food, and the custodial staff distribute the food, then that takes care of two more legitimate concerns: how to pay support staff if school doors don’t open and how to get food to students who have no way to get to the school.  And what about the issue of child care?  This is, perhaps, the number one reason you are being urged to open the school doors prematurely.  The bigger the issue, the wider our minds must search for viable solutions. Partnering with community programs that already exist could work.  Boys and Girls clubs and other after school programs can be called upon to handle more students.  Churches and other community organizations have already been stepping up, and they could continue to do so.  Retired teachers could form a voluntary co-op to assist with the overflow of students.  College students majoring in education could get their student teaching hours/credits by working with students who have no parent/guardian at home to monitor their progress.  I truly believe we can make this work.  I know the big question is always: how are we going to pay for all of this?  Some of it may have to be by donation or voluntary, and we may need to ask the organizations and individuals with the disposable income right now to step up as well.  There may be other solutions as well. The bigger the problem, the larger we must cast our nets for a solution.

All these challenges exist, as well as many more not listed here, but the benefits of delaying face-to-face instruction overwhelmingly outweigh the costs.  The most obvious benefits are the safety of all Arkansans along with the ability to control, if not squelch, this pandemic in a matter of weeks, just like South Korea and New Zealand have done.  We also won’t have the mass exodus of teachers if the reported 40% of all licensed teachers polled take retirement as opposed to needlessly exposing themselves, their students, and their families to COVID-19.  Additionally, once the stress and fear of returning to the classroom are no longer pressuring teachers, their minds will become clearer, and they will be able to focus 100% of their attention on providing the best and most comprehensive online education they possibly can.

I know you are carrying a tremendous burden, and I know that you have so many different issues to consider with even the smallest decisions you make.  But, I also know that decisive leadership is the key here.  You have seen, played out daily on the national stage, the chaos and needless suffering and death that indecision brings.  Neither you nor I would have that for Arkansas, and I so plead with you to take a resolute stand and mandate online classes for this semester.

I trust you to do the right thing even if it is the hard thing because that is who you are.

Respectfully,

Stephanie Moon

Stephanie Moon is a Nationally Board Certified Teacher. She taught high school in Arkansas.