The Life and Death of the Teacher

10/02/2011 4:36PM EDT

I died today. I failed to be the better person because I could not bear the weight of the world on my shoulders any longer. My knees buckled under anxiety and life left my chest. I gasped for air, but only chocked on the teratogen filled environment. After a complete collapse, I slowly faded. There was no need for resuscitation or any quick heroics, I was gone.

As I attained my Bachelor of Science degree in Education, with an elementary emphasis, I was fresh off the graduation platform when I stepped into my first classroom. Frightened out of my wits and not having one decorative thing to put on the wall, I jumped right in. I had two choices, to either sink, or swim. Immediately I went into creative mode doing my own thing and enjoying the exploration of being with a room full of six-year-old students for a good portion of my day. Shortly after, the piranhas would come in to gut me to the bones, to suck all the innovation and open-mindedness from every inch of my being. They dulled me down with a script; a formatted day to day of what school should absolutely never be like, but it was. Then they made me plaster things on the wall that the kids would never be able to read and attested that this would be the almighty achievement raiser. My life consisted of "teach it this way," and "say this instead," or "do it like that" Misses Robot.  Yes, I was Misses Robot and the oil began to slowly leak from my crevices.

Finally I gained a bit of balance between being a Misses Robot and half human. It took me eight months to figure it out, but I finally understood by the end of year one. Year two beget more nonsense on top of nonsense. More requirements that made learning simply not enjoyable and teaching even worse. I was set to learn a lot about myself, things I never knew. I didn't have cable television at my apartment during year two either. Turned out that I didn't need it at all. My life was a real time reality show, sitcom, drama, soap opera, mini series. Mostly drama though. What a grand year this was. I saw society for what it really was. I even became more understanding of how awry the education system, politics, and our communities really are. Everyday with each student I saw through it as clear as good sea water. It tore me apart. Year two was the decline of my health and love for my passion. My class had been swapped and I was thrown to the wolves and teaching eight-year-old students a month into the school year. Literally thrown to the wolves. The children were loving children as they all are, so I am not suggesting that they were animal like, but I was torn to shreds in heartbreak. I was over worked and my students, these lovely, wonderful young people, were poor victims of the piranhas as well. Those wonderful human beings were decreased to simple numbers and pods while I stepped further into my role of Misses Robot. Of course all bots have a programmer and what a misconstrued board I had.

Teaching was no longer fun at all in year two, but I gave it my all and all of me it took. I had to combat misconceptions among my students. I had to combat pop culture and television. I was mom, dad, counselor, disciplinarian, confidant, the after school, "free" tutor, and most importantly I was the teacher. All my love poured overflowing each day into some of what I thought were the neediest young people. They required so much love and a good role model. I strove to show them greatness daily. I fought with all of me to keep my emotions in check. When I wanted to yell, I hushed myself, and when I wanted to cry, I prayed. My daily devotional remained situated on my desk because I needed that jump start to put me on the right path each day. It was an ongoing battle until the very last day of school. The pain hurt so bad that I took my class to church with me on one particular Sunday and got down on my knees at the alter and wept for the children I was responsible for. I was wounded beyond repair. My parents had an array of societal issues, even though some were supportive and amazing, this reflected in my kids. They brought unimaginable things into the classroom. The dedicated parents were never enough to even out  the majority, and my administrators were clueless and too busy to pay attention to what existed in room thirty-four.

It was here that I toted too much weight. Without the help of some super coworkers I would have surely sunk. They were like the string attached to the boat, which was attached to the buoy on the other end. God being that buoy of course. All of me wished I could have escaped this experience, yet I know that I would not be who I am today without it. And so, I rolled into year three for stability purposes knowing that it would be my grand exit. At the conclusion of my Act, I did my robot dance off of education's grand stage never wanting to be a teacher again. All the excitement and joys of the class existed no more. The once happy, new teacher was now a worn veteran dead of all teaching joys.

If you would like to read the full story in detail, please look out for my upcoming publications and productions.