As a Teacher, Every Year Is Your First Year

I am going into my third year of teaching this year. As a special educator in Baltimore City, I have persevered through many seemingly insurmountable obstacles, including a closing school with incredibly low morale and a pandemic. Both had drastically different challenges.

But my third year, I have new challenges re-entering the school system after a long summer. I have taught students with ADHD, autism, intellectual disabilities, and emotional disabilities. Now, I’m teaching multiple students who are deaf and multiple students who are English Language Learners.

I recall some of the darkest days from my first year, a year I will never forget. I will never forget the day there were three altercations in my classroom in one day. There was much worse that happened too, and the transition from lunch would almost always be cemented in my memory as altercation central. I will always remember my student who was charged with first-degree murder after the school closed, the students who I wasn’t sure whether they would stay in school or not.

Now, one of my students who told me he wasn’t sure about staying in school is a student of mine. I called his guardian, who I have stayed in touch with for the past three years. I had a hard time with the student that year, and I’m not quite sure how he feels about having me as a teacher again — happy? Upset? Disappointed? Hopeful?

Well, what I learned is every year is your first year. What I learned is each year comes with new and unexpected challenges. The job doesn’t get easier. You just get stronger.

My first year, I wasn’t a very strong teacher. I was the teacher who was too nice and too permissive. I saw the fact that I let my students be on their phones and sit on the radiators as a sign that my students trusted me when they didn’t trust the other teachers.

Now, however, I see things a bit differently. I understand the reality is a bit more nuanced between good and evil. I struggle with the concept of respect — a prevailing sentiment among teachers is you don’t need students to like you. You need them to respect you. Of course I want my students to respect me — it’ll make my job easier and make the learning environment safe for everyone, unlike how it was my first year.

But the reality is also not very simple. My past students are to me not only with the trauma of the pandemic but the many traumas that often come within our city and our school system, like poverty and parents who suffer from addiction.

I wish I could tell you a happy story. I wish I could tell you one where their lives turned around magically after I was their teacher, where I could play into some sort of colonizing and patronizing savior narrative.

But alas, I cannot. I am just another adult simply doing his job, teaching content and building connections. But I am no Jesus, no savior, and no one person is going to fix deeply rooted systemic issues. This is my first year in the sense that I realize my limitations. My classrooms have seen great things happen as well as the awful. But there’s going to be no Freedom Writers on my teaching and my students’ learning experiences.

I am a teacher. But I’m not quite sure if I’m a teacher first, everything else second. I am beginning to separate my own identity from my job a bit on re-entering in person in my third year of teaching. I no longer see myself as just a teacher. I am many other things, and separating my work from my identity has been crucial not only for my performance but my mental health and well-being.

This re-entry isn’t romantic, nor is it as idealistic as I once was. Again, it’s just a job. I know the year will have significant drama and will be eventful, as some kids come back to school for the first time in two years. And I look forward to it.

But now, I’m a pro — at least I hope I am. For my students, I will be more distant. I will keep more boundaries. I am, unfortunately, much more of a disciplinarian than I was during that awful first year.

And perhaps the year will be more business-like in terms of students learning how to read and write better and learning English, but ultimately, I will still love my kids as much as I did my first two years. I will still go above and beyond to help them learn and support them.

I only hope my efforts won’t be for naught. Not much has necessarily changed in terms of my idealism or my mindset towards teaching — but my instincts and techniques through experiences have improved. I only hope I can be of service to my students this year, another first year of new experiences.

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This post was previously published on Age of Awareness.

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