On the morning of Monday, August 18, I took a run through our neighborhood. It was the first day of school in Henrico County. A late Sunday night thunderstorm had temporarily broken the grip of summer heat and humidity.
I thought back to 1975 when my first year as a teacher started in Martinsville, Virginia. Thirty-one years later, I hit my wall and retired.
This time of year, people who know I worked in the schools ask me— do I miss being in a school building? My answer is a swift—‘no.’
My ‘no’ is grounded in— the world has changed. I doubt I could survive in a public school today. I read the troubling headlines.
Between now, and the beginning of September, public schools in Virginia will come back to life. What the public might not realize is that schools have been breathing all summer.
Staff members are readying the building and grounds for a new year. New students are being registered. Teachers are enrolled in classes to renew their certification or to learn a new instructional strategy. Coaches prep for preseason practices for fall sports. Principals are monitoring details while nudging everyone to be ready for the first day.
When that first day arrives, nerves will be on edge. Restless sleep hassles kindergarten parents and first year teachers. Superintendents are a part of the sleep deprived too. Internally, they whisper a prayer for a quiet first day with no negative sound bytes for the local news at six.
During that first week, everyday a kindergarten student will disrupt a classroom because this student has an unstructured home life.
At lunch time, somewhere in the chaos of a middle school cafeteria, an introverted, unconfident sixth grader cringes in uneasiness.
In a large high school, an eighteen year old student who should be a senior, but who has earned enough credits to be a sophomore silently plots how to get kicked out of school.
And by the end of September, there will be a handful of teachers who are ready to submit their resignation letters. In the classroom trenches, the stress, tension, and pressure are too much.
The stress, tension, and pressure are present at home too.
The single parent of the kindergarten student dreads every text, email, or phone call from her student’s teacher.
For the parents of the introverted middle school student, they feel the uncomfortable stress too. As parents, they are hesitant to approach the school’s counselor for support. They worry that requesting assistance might create more stress for their student.
The grandparent of the unsuccessful high school student knows this troubled road. From past failed experiences, the grandparent doesn’t believe the school system can provide the proper intervention for her grandson.
These examples are only a sampling of the challenges faced by students, parents, and public school educators. Multiply that across Virginia, and one can quickly grasp—this is tough, unending work.
I often wonder what it would take to reduce the stress, tension, and pressure in our public schools. Doesn’t matter where a teacher is assigned there is no immunity from stress, tension, and pressure.
What causes these mental, physical, and emotional strains? What keeps them alive from grade level to grade level? Is it our failure to address and fix the shortcomings of our human infrastructure in our communities?
Do our most disruptive and unsuccessful students come from unstable homes? Is that instability linked to absent parents, dysfunctional parenting, trauma from abuse, unemployment, incarceration, homelessness, inadequate medical/mental health care, or food insecurity?
From grades kindergarten through twelve, a student enters a school everyday with one or more of those burdens hovering over them. How much better might life be in school for that student if those burdens were solved? Ask any classroom teacher, they know the answer.
I don’t think anyone wants to admit this or really address it, but the erosion of our families is having an impact on our schools.
A September 2023 report on The Modern American Family from the Pew Research Center stated “there is no longer one predominant family form.” Wally and Beaver, Opie and Andy are gone.
If we truly want to improve test scores in localities where they have never risen, reduce discipline problems, improve morale, and rebuild respect for teachers, then figuring out how to stop the deepening erosion of our families is urgent.
On a morning run, I thought about Pat Conroy’s book, My Lowcountry Heart. He quotes one of his high school English teachers, Gene Norris.
Mr. Norris stated: “they used to trust teachers with the kids they sent us.”
Mr. Norris was correct.
If our schools hope to move forward, we must restore our trust in teachers.
might be baloney 