The Future of the Teaching Profession

A couple weeks ago I was at my kids' high school for a concert, and afterward, I ran into the principal in the courtyard of the building. We visited a bit about how the school year was wrapping up, and he mentioned just how hectic the end of the year is with so many things going on besides the normal academic parts of school. He was mentioning how many teachers were out as well, with coaching responsibilities or family responsibilities, and he suddenly said, "Hey...since classes are out for you...do you have a little time that you could substitute for us?"

As a matter of fact, the timing was very good for me to do that, as I was in my lovely in-between-time: I had wrapped up my grading for the spring semester, and I was just getting started with my preparations for the summer term. And so, I spent a couple of days subbing at my kids' high school. (Which they were fine with, since I didn't end up teaching any of the classes they were taking.) :-)

This was a fantastic experience for me! Honestly, there is a part of me that sometimes wonders if I could still do it--if I could still teach full time in K-12. Certainly subbing is certainly not the same thing as full time teaching. Someone else did the planning, and someone else would do the assessing--and these are the two biggest, mostly-invisible parts of teaching that most non-teachers sort of forget about. But spending a few days in K-12 was a good affirmation for me that I still love connecting with kids, and I still have enough management skills and pedagogical skills to make content come to life for kids.

It was interesting for me to sit with members of the faculty at lunch too. We had a lot of laughs, and I was glad that they just included me in the conversation. But one thing stood out to me: one teacher said something to me along the lines of, "I think this is really great that you are taking the time to do this. I think more Education professors should spend time subbing." I agreed with this teacher whole-heartedly. And actually, this is something our department has already put into place: we are expected to spend time working with "real kids" in "real schools," either as co-teachers or substitutes just like this. Most of the time when I work in K-12 these days, it's been co-teaching with classroom teachers. I come in as the "outside expert" in some curriculum topic; most often it's been teaching a middle school or elementary science lesson. And this certainly has been great for me as well, but being "in charge" of the classroom the way substitute teachers are is a little different thing, and I was so glad to have this experience.

There was one more thing I caught from my colleagues-for-a-few-days while I was with them during lunch: they are tired. This year has been really, really tough on teachers. This wasn't shocking for me, of course. I feel that, even in my work as a teacher educator at the university level--I wrote a while back about how I have felt so exhausted by all the extra emotional labor of this COVID year. But it had me thinking about just how many educators I've seen on Twitter suggesting that they might not continue teaching. For some of them, COVID-stuff seems to be the reason. But for others, COVID-stuff was just the straw that broke the camel's back, because it revealed so many things about Education that feel so, so broken. And there seems to be a growing number of educators who are just going to be opting out of what they see as a broken system.

All of this had me feeling very curious, so put a poll out on Twitter a week or so ago. My tweet was thus: "I feel like I'm seeing a ton of teachers either not planning to come back to teach again in the fall, or seriously considering leaving the profession. Unscientific poll here to satisfy my curiosity: If you are a teacher...where are you at on this?"

I included a follow-up tweet encouraging teachers to share more about their decision-making: what was keeping them teaching, or what was nudging them out?

Here were the results of the poll. I was so encouraged to see that out of the 128 folks who chimed in on this very unscientific survey, almost 80% said they are planning to keep teaching. Of the other 20+%, 8% said leaning towards staying, 9% said leaning towards leaving, and only 4% said definitely leaving. So maybe things aren't so dire for the future of my profession?

But that said...it was interesting to see the comments teachers made in their tweets in response about their decision-making. A few of the comments included these insights:

• "I'm staying in teaching because it's where my passions and hopes are, and I've got a vocational calling, but man, this year I am TIRED at the finish line. I blame insufficient rest last summer as we had to plan and strategize though the pandemic."
• "Leaving for now. May get back in it for the right school fit. Tired of being taken for granted, school not doing it's part to fix curriculum & update learning experience for Ss. 1 size/way of doing things won't work for all, so it was clear the company was all about the $$$$"
• "I can’t imagine doing anything else, but I also can’t imagine being able to do years like the last 3 for very much longer. It’s been...a lot."
• "I've had a number of conversations where I've talked teachers off the ledge this year. Also more and more I'm hearing teachers say that they'll teach for the next while but that they'll leave eventually. I don't know if that is a millennial thing or COVID or..."
• "I hear younger teachers say their reason for leaving is the lack of flexibility and input.
• "Definitely coming back next year! It’s the pay cut this year, the over-abundance of work teaching hybrid, and lack of communication and providing of good curriculum that make it hard, though..."

This wasn't every comment I heard tweeted back in response...but notice any trends here? The biggest thing I note is that it's mostly the non-teaching things that are driving people towards considering leaving the profession. Several folks here seem to be saying, "Yeah, I love teaching...but all the other stuff that comes alongside the teaching that makes me consider not sticking with the teaching."

Ooof.

This is my big wondering then: how do we keep the main thing for teachers the main thing? If teachers get into the profession because they love kids, and love subjects that they get to teach, and love the actual teaching...how can we make sure that this is the stuff they do? Yeah, I know...COVID stretched everyone. But as I say that...was it COVID that was the problem? Or was it shifts that have happened societally in the past few years that have made teachers feel differently-burdened...and COVID was just the lens that really brought it all into the light in a different way?

I don't have any easy answer, or any quick prescription for what would make Education a more appealing profession for more people again. But I'm thinking about that 20ish% of respondents to my poll: what would be the implications if 20% of the teachers in the United States quit teaching in short order? 

I think the future of the teaching profession is unclear at this point. Everyone wants excellent teachers for their own kids, right? No one wants a mediocre teacher, right? So how do we equip excellent educators...and how do we keep them in the field?

Weighing Our Words: The Impact of a Teacher

Last week I heard that a former professor of mine had passed away. Gloria Goris Stronks was a legend, and she influenced an entire generation of Christian teachers. Hearing about her death impacted me more than I would have expected. I'm not exaggerating at all when I say that I am a professor today because of her influence in my life.

Dr. Gloria Stronks

Gloria was one of my professors when I was studying for my Master's degree in curriculum and instruction in the early 2000's. She taught an advanced educational psychology course that helped me clarify and refine my understanding of who my middle school students were, and taking that course shaped my teaching practice (and me personally as well!) for ever after. I was more intentional about connecting with students, about getting to know them as unique individuals, and about tailoring my teaching towards both students needs as well as their strengths. 

But at a personal level, Gloria also influenced me in an incredible way. She kept me after class one day, and very seriously said, "Dave, have you ever thought about becoming a professor? You should!" This was the first time that this idea ever even crept into my mind. I was perfectly happy as a middle school science teacher, and sort of figured I would keep doing that for a long time. But Gloria saw something in me that I didn't see in myself, and her comment stuck with me. Later, when I had the opportunity to teach a course as an adjunct instructor, I gave it a whirl, largely because of this conversation with Gloria. And one thing led to another...and after six year of adjuncting, I took on a full-time position in higher ed...and here I am, nine years later. In that conversation with Gloria all those years ago, her comment to me was something along the lines of, "You are clearly making a difference in the lives of your students. But what if you were teaching teachers? Think of how that difference ripples out to so many more students!" That was a compelling vision for me, and one that expanded the way I pictured what was possible for me--and maybe a bigger view of the way I could use my talents to serve in Christ's kingdom.

I shared the news of Gloria's passing with my colleagues in the department, and (perhaps not surprisingly) two of them shared that Gloria had similar conversations with them at pivotal moments in our professional careers--she saw gifts in promising teachers, named them, and encouraged us to take bold steps that we might not have taken otherwise.

All of this has me thinking about the role teachers play in their students lives, and weight of teachers' words--for good, or for ill. If you're a teacher, and you're taking the time to read this, I hope that hearing this story has you reflecting on the way you speak into your students' lives. What gifts do you see in them? Do you name them? Do you encourage them to take bold steps? 

Teachers, let's not take our words lightly. Taking an example from Dr. Stronks, let's encourage students to use their gifts and talents, and challenge them with bigger visions of what is possible for them than they might currently imagine for themselves. Who knows what impact your words might have, teacher!

Finding Gratitude by Way of an Email from the Past

This morning I checked my gmail, which I do periodically...though not every day. Actually, it had been a few days since I'd last logged in. There was a surprising message waiting for me. The sender? Well, it was me. But I sent it to myself last year at this time.

The subject of the email? "A Letter from May 8, 2020." The sender? "FutureMe."

Now, I've used futureme.org before--it's a pretty nifty tool to send yourself a message in the future. You compose your message, choose a future date, and enter an email address that you'll have access to at the time the message should be delivered. The message stays on futureme.org's servers until then, and they send it out for you.

But this email was truly a surprise. I do not recall sending this email to myself at all--probably the stress of that time of my life? It was a fascinating window into my past reading this one today. Here's what past me (of May 2020) wrote to future me (of May 2021):

Dear Future Dave,

Wow. We are in the thick of COVID-19 social distancing, and it's been about 7 weeks now. You are currently grading exams for EDUC 334 students--they are doing amazing at summing up their learning, even though it has been a crazy second half of the semester being distance learning. You did a fine job of pivoting Science Methods to an online format. Congratulations on putting your knowledge and skills into practice in a way that really benefited your students, by ensuring that the main thing remained the main thing.

You told several people recently that your big regret in all of this was not saying a better "goodbye" to your students before they left for Spring Break, because that was the last time you met up with them. You've been hard on yourself with your typically high expectations for your teaching practice. But you've also been gracious with your students, remembering that they are whole humans. Keep doing that, and keep focusing on *learning* over "grading."

You are a good teacher. You recently completed your 8-year interview process, and passed with flying colors. Your students value the work you are doing, and the way you model teaching for them. Don't be so hard on yourself, yeah?

Remember to be grateful for what you've got. You are healthy, you have meaningful work that seems stable, your kids--even though they drive you crazy sometimes--are pretty amazing, and your wife is incredible. You are blessed!

Don't forget to be awesome,

Past Dave

Is it weird if an email I sent myself--one that I don't even remember sending!--got me a little choked up? Because that happened.

This year...whew, what a year! But past me was right: I do have a lot to be grateful for, even in the midst of a whole lot of awful in the pandemic school year of 2020-2021. 

Image by Mark Rosemaker via Pixabay

Concluding a Course: "Sparkiness" in the Classroom

I'm having a bit of a hard time today as I'm working on my end-of-semester grading. It's not that the students have written poorly, or that they aren't showing evidence of their learning--quite the contrary, actually! But I'm having a hard time because I am wrapping up teaching Elementary Science Methods right now, and it's likely going to be the last time I teach this course, at least for a while.

Why is this so hard for me? Well...because I've taught the course 22 times. I started teaching this course as an adjunct instructor back in 2006, and I've taught it every time it's been offered at our institution since then. My quick math says almost 500 students have taken this course with me in that time, which is pretty ridiculous to imagine, now that I'm thinking about it! While I never feel like I have any course "in my back pocket," this is the one that I know inside-out, because I've taught it so many times. And while the course has obviously evolved over 22 iterations, and while I keep bringing in new ideas, and activities, and things to read and discuss...it's also one that feels very comfortable, because I've lived in it for so long.

At the same time, I recognize it's been more than a decade since I taught middle school science on a daily basis at this point. And I have many other hats I wear in our department, many other courses and projects that I'm part of or in charge of. And so, it's likely time for this one to get handed off to a colleague, and with a new member of our department joining us in the fall, it is time for someone else to take this one.

But there is a sense of grieving for me, recognizing that this is likely my last go at this course for awhile. I think it's because I identify quite strongly with this course in some ways, because it's been part of my life for such a long time. There have been times where this course has felt like work, to be sure. But it has been joyful work for me. I love studying creation, and teaching others about it, and teaching teachers how to foster a love of creation in their own students. 

And so, I'm struggling a bit as I grade these final summative projects from the semester, but realizing that this is more about how I feel than about my students' learning. Because you know what? They are taking away some really fantastic things! So many of them are sharing specific things that made a difference for them in the way they think about science as a subject, or about themselves as teachers, or their future teaching practices. Many of them are naming specific ideas or activities from class that they want to use with their own students. I love this! It's humbling to think about the 500-ish students I've had the pleasure of teaching over the years all taking things they learned from my class and using them with their own students. (Ooof. Gives a real sense of the responsibility we have as teacher educators!)

One student wrapped up her final paper with a personal note that just made me grin:

To finish off, the last thing I learned in this course that I want to take with me would be to get my students excited. Your attitude that you brought everyday got us excited. The questions that you would ask and the activities you would follow up with would make us excited. You always brought your all and that was evident when we were learning from you. Even maybe if you were not excited about the content, you “faked” it and you made us excited in return. Or maybe I was tired a day and the energy you brought defiantly helped keep my attention. I think that students need to have that sense of fun in their day and to not always be so serious. Your constant level of "sparkiness" and fun attitude is something that I want to carry with me. 

You know, I'll take that! If nothing else, I hope and trust that my own enthusiasm for teaching, and the way I model this craft for them rubs off on them a little bit. 

And I think I'll be okay not teaching this course anymore. I'll still be bringing my "sparkiness" to all of the classrooms where I have the opportunity to teach!

Image via pixabay.

On Being Seriously Silly

 I saw this one on Twitter today from the eminent Sir John Cleese:

Always be the silliest in any group. 😃 #tbt pic.twitter.com/oMJu876Wsz

— John Cleese (@JohnCleese) April 22, 2021

(Just in case you aren't familiar...John Cleese is one of the members of the ground-breaking British comedy troupe, Monty Python. This photo is of the group as they looked in the early days--maybe late 1960s or early 70s?--and Cleese is the one grinning like a fool. They may have had their heyday in the 70s and 80s, but this group has had a huge impact on media and culture far beyond the British Isles.)

I love it! I think this is a rule that I live by, and I didn't even realize it until I saw it written this way.

I revel in silliness. 

I play the ukulele.

I yo-yo as I walk across campus.

I get my Intro to Ed students to try juggling in class.

I exhibit a manic energy in teaching my Elementary Science Methods course.

At one of the summer camps I serve (shout-out to Royal Family Kids!) I dress up in a banana costume and sing ridiculous songs...and somehow get the whole group of campers and staff to play along and sing and dance with me.

Not atypical for me to look like this (at camp, at least...)

Something I've tried to embody--and to pass along to my students, future teachers that they are--is that I should take my WORK very seriously...but I try to not take MYSELF too seriously. 

Not that I want to be the butt of every joke, or anything like that. And I'm not just trying to be self-deprecating all the time. After all, I do want my students to have confidence in me as their teacher, and I want my colleagues to have confidence in me as someone who is reliable, and trustworthy, and an active contributor to important work.

But...I also want to be able to bring levity, positivity, and joy to my work! And I think I (generally) embody this quite well.

My big wondering right now: do people take me seriously even when I am silly?

I guess I'm thinking about this from a John Cleese sort of frame. He is one of the best in the world at what he does--he takes his comedy seriously, and has honed his craft over decades of work. Maybe my teaching practice isn't all that different?

Can I be seriously silly?

Exhaustion and Emotional Labor

What a year it's been! (Understatement much, Dave??) 

Seriously, this has been a demanding year for me as a teacher. I am not complaining. I'm so grateful that I've been able to be regularly meeting up with my students in person. I'm equally grateful for the technological support to make online and hybrid teaching realistic, if not easy. Several months ago I wrote a baleful post entitled "Teaching is Not for the Faint of Heart...and HyFlex Teaching in Particular." Looking back at this post...I don't disagree with anything I wrote then. But I'm grateful that I didn't have as many students shunted into quarantine during this spring semester (questions remain about why this is...) which has made managing the times I need to try and teach in multiple modalities simultaneously much more reasonable, at an emotional level at least.

That comment, "at an emotional level," is something I've been thinking a lot about lately. I am feeling exhausted as we reach the end of this year. I always feel a little tired at the close of an academic year. But this year it's more than "a little tired." I described it to a colleague today as "exhaustion." And I don't want to sound hyperbolic here; I think this is accurate. Teaching is demanding work under the best of circumstances. Teaching during COVID has not been the best of circumstances. And, self-indulgent as it sounds, not having a spring break this year has taken a real toll on me. I understand why we did it this way--and I DO think it was the right call--but I also think that this disruption to our normal rhythm of the semester has had a real impact. My students are tired, but hanging in there. My colleagues are tired, but hanging in there. I'm tired too...and hanging in there, I think.

But this comes back to the idea of "emotional labor" that I've been thinking about a fair amount over this year. Back in October I wrote an article entitled "How Can We Support Teachers?" that draws on this concept quite lot. On our podcast, my buddy Matt and I spent a whole episode thinking through Emotional Labor for teachers, and how demanding this is for educators. The main idea of emotional labor: some work is physical, some is mental, and some is emotional. Emotional labor means managing your own emotional state to elicit a particular emotional state in others--and teachers do this all the time. We aren't the only ones, of course; nurses, police officers, social workers, flight attendants, and so many "serving" professions demand a level of emotional labor. But I think this is ever more acute for teachers working in the age of COVID. We often check our own emotions as a normal part of the work, to ensure students will learn.

Physical labor can be (obviously) exhausting. Mental labor can be exhausting. And...emotional labor can be exhausting. 

This year, the emotional labor of teaching is putting more pressure than ever on teachers, I think. And while I'm pretty resilient, and I LOVE my work, I'm also finding myself looking forward to the weekends more than I think I ever have since I've been a professional educator.

Check in on the educators you know, friends. I suspect I'm not alone in this exhaustion about the emotional labor of teaching. 

And, how to manage this exhaustion? Well...what makes sense? 

When we are exhausted...we need to rest. 

And so, I'm working on resting more this year than I ever have before. This semester I've been trying to not work in the evenings more than two nights a week. (I'm certainly not always successful at this.) I'm trying to not check my email over the weekends. I'm trying to get to bed at a regular time and get up at a regular time. I'm trying to get at least some physical exercise every week. Isn't that crazy to say "I'm working on resting"--working on resting??? But it's true; this is where I'm at, emotionally.

I'm still feeling exhausted...but I'm (perhaps surprisingly?) still feeling deep joy in my work. But it ain't easy, folks.

Image via Pixabay

A Pandemic Year, and Counting Blessings

I am feeling reflective as I write this. I was grateful to have been able to get my first shot for the COVID vaccine this past Thursday, one year to the day after the WHO declared COVID-19 a global pandemic. 

I posted this on Instagram afterward getting the vaccine, feeling grateful:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Dave Mulder (@d_mulder)

What a year it has been! And yet, God is faithful. Despite all of the hardships, frustration, angst, anxiety, and depression of this past year--for me personally, and perhaps for you as well--I have learned to more faithfully rely on God as my refuge and strength (in a Psalm 46 kind of way) on a day-to-day basis than ever before. When I hear people talk about "going back" to the way things were before the pandemic, I long for some parts of that too. But I also realize how this past year has changed me, in both unhealthy ways (like stress eating as a coping strategy, and a lot more time scrolling on social media) and healthy ways (like more intentionally creating quiet times with God, and growing in being okay with being "just okay.") While I certainly hope to reset some of the unhealthy ones...but I don't want to too quickly "go back" to the way things were before, if it means I might forget and lose hold of some of the good things that have been happening in my life too.

All of this has me thinking about this lovely song, from one of my favorite bands, Rend Collective. The song is "Counting Every Blessing," and it was released some time before the pandemic year (in 2018, I think?) I invite you to listen, and I hope it gives you a lift in the way it buoys my spirits every time I listen to it. It's not a panacea song of, "See, everything is great!" but more of a, "Even when things are hard, or unclear, I can still see that God is in control of all things.