by Taniece Thompson-Smith, 2024 Texas Teacher of the Year
It was the end of the week. I rushed out of my classroom then stopped in my tracks when I remembered that I had left my lunch containers, untouched, in my mini fridge in the classroom.
I guess I knew what I was going to find in there, but there was something daunting about seeing my entire week’s lunches all stacked up, untouched, just the way I had organized them in the fridge that Monday morning: four containers of salads, two containers of Silk yogurt, one green apple, 3 oz. of nuts, six slices of cheese, and a bottle of water.
I grabbed a grocery bag and loaded them up. As I lifted the bag, ready to walk out of my classroom, it immediately felt as if the load from the week, now in my shopping bag, had somehow teleported to my shoulders. I felt defeated and frustrated with myself. Once again, I skipped lunch, not just one or two days but the entire week. How can work consume me so much?
A colleague happened to pop her head in my classroom as I was about to head home. I said to her: “I didn’t eat my lunch this week.” The look in her eyes said it all. “I know,” she said. In that moment, I confronted my own fears and asked myself, “Is it worth it?” At what point do I prioritize my own well-being?
How much is enough?
As teachers, give so much of ourselves in the classroom. We function somewhat on autopilot. We are in professional development cohorts, we collaborate with our colleagues, and we work hard at building a strong school community. The danger, however, is that we have normalized the constant sacrifices we have made over the years to the detriment of our own well-being.
We want our students to succeed so badly that it hurts. We spend our weekends planning, grading, analyzing test data, thinking about our students’ struggles and what else we need to do to help them improve.
We have normalized the struggle. Our passion has slowly become our pain. Our happiness has slowly become the main source of our demise. Medical issues plague our teachers, and like firemen running into a burning building, we are so focused on saving all students through our concerted efforts that mental health goes unchecked, ergonomic issues go unchecked, hypertension goes unchecked, urinary tract infections go unchecked, and the list goes on.
Like the story of the Giving Tree, we are sitting on the stumps of our altruistic efforts, and we still ask daily what more we can do so that our students may truly live.
No one warned us
As an educator that has been in the classroom for about 16 years, I often find myself in conversations with other educators who reflect on their classroom experience and echo the sentiment, “No one warned us.” No one warned us about the uphill climb that it would be to uplift our students, advocate for their educational well-being, celebrate the beauty of public education, and our willingness to strive for excellence despite the obstacles.
The teacher struggle has been normalized to the point where those lived experiences seem like a chapter in a book that we are just working hard to read past. We are facing a crisis in education. As teachers, we have mastered the intricate art of working through:
• learning loss
• lack of affordable housing
• lack of proper child nutrition
• lack of high-quality tutoring programs
• lack of family support
• inadequate support for mental health
• inadequate accountability systems
• teacher shortages
• lack of mentorship programs
Too often teachers slam into the weekend feeling exhausted and overspent. To give students the best of ourselves, we give until we have nothing left. Then slowly we become increasingly exhausted and even begin to lose interest in our own passion or purpose. Our very existence is narrowed down to multitasking as much as is humanly possible in a combined effort to avoid being buried by the loads of paperwork that accompanies the profession.
For some, this may seem like too high of a price to pay for an educated society. However, for those of us who are on the forefront of education, there is nothing else we would rather do. We are the profession on which all other professions stand. If we don’t answer the call, who will?
Why do we do it?
Teachers get up every day and give of ourselves sacrificially to the students in our classroom because we have hope in our future, and how our students will somehow swing the pendulum of excellence and be adequately prepared to leave an indelible mark on society.
Teachers, I am grateful for not only what you do, but who you are and how you have served this noble call to service. I am also humbled to walk alongside you, to call you my brother and my sister. We have a bond that only those who are truly in the work can understand. You are my miracle in the classroom.
As teachers, we are privileged to witness everyday heroes in our classrooms put on their capes and inspire the next generation. Sometimes our cape is an apron to store pens, stickers, markers, pencils or other incentives. Sometimes our cape is a school shirt to demonstrate pride in our school community. Sometimes our cape is a science lab coat that students see us wear in the hall, inspiring them to pursue science goals. Sometimes our cape is a fun costume to celebrate the 100th day of school. Sometimes it’s just the smile we put on, even when we are having a rough day, because we know our students are depending on us.
Finding balance
My dear teachers and colleagues, as Gen. Colin Powell said: “A dream doesn’t become reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination and hard work.” You have modeled excellence. We have seen your sweat, your determination and your hard work.
But the truth is, if you don’t take care of yourself, there is no way that you will be able to take care of your students whom you love so much! My hope for you is that you will find a way to live a more balanced life.
Give of yourself but find time to rejuvenate. Give of yourself but find time to pursue your passion. Give of yourself but find time to recenter and regroup. Give of yourself but find ways to get your nights and weekends back. Give of yourself but find time to eat your lunch.
By nourishing your own body physically, emotionally, socially, intellectually and holistically, you simultaneously nourish your students’ souls. “Self-care is giving the world what’s best of you, not what’s left of you!” Teachers, we need you. Please, eat your lunch.
