I recognize that a teacher writing an essay about hard work whilst on summer vacation is potentially fraught with some hypocrisy, but there are a couple of counterpoints to consider: 1) The nature of the job is nine months in the classroom, three months out; but that doesn't mean I'm not working; 2) While this essay was written during the summer break, it can be read at any time, so its point can be derived without worrying about inconsistency.
Work is Hard
Peeking behind the curtain, here's what goes into a lesson when I'm at the helm:
- Choosing the material to be discussed
- Deriving a conversation about the topic
- Creating an activity (sometimes) about the material
- Finding additional resources to explain the topic
- Ensuring there's enough stuff to fill 100 minutes of class
- Build enough in the class to feel like we've made progress, yet leave enough on the table to pick up the next day
If it sounds vague, it's because it has to be. There's enough variety within the dual cores I teach (history and Language Arts) that I can't have the class be too rigid. Similarly, without a fairly solid structure, the class will fall apart. (I've taught some classes where I don't follow this as strictly, and they are harder to manage, less fulfilling, and accomplish less. As a teacher, I have to learn my lessons, too.) Striking that balance is something that, I believe, good teachers do. When it's going well, students don't notice the balancing act--much like audience members, when pulled into a good play, don't notice the lighting cues, the blocking, or the thought "How did they memorize all those lines?"
But all of this isn't easy. Well, I suppose a definition of the word would help: I think when we consider what "hard" work is, it's that which requires attention, effort, and energy. Sometimes that's a physical effort--a laborious job, say--and sometimes that energy is intellectual or emotional. That's usually the kind of thing that I find happening when I'm working with my students. It's easy in that we are discussing things about which I've learned a lot. Were I to have a conversation about the calculus and how to use it, that would be hard--but only because of my ignorance. So teaching one's subject is easy in that the content is not the challenge; it's the teaching that's hard.
I think, because teaching requires so much of the teacher, a lot of educators have given into the lowest-common denominator concept, with their own level of effort being that denominator. I know teachers who pass all of their students with A's because they don't want to talk to parents at Parent/Teacher Conferences and they know that if the kid's getting a good grade, they won't have to see anyone. On the other hand, I know of some teachers who burn themselves out because they're putting in significantly more effort than their students. The lack of student reciprocity can be disheartening and embittering.
So when we say "hard" work, it isn't the same as construction working, coding, or administering health care. It's about people--volatile people (and teenagers are the most volatile things on the planet, second only to toddlers who need a nap)--and that constant need for improvisation and structure, of justice and mercy, is a taxing need.
Preparation is 9/10ths of the Law
Okay, I'll be honest, that heading doesn't make sense to me, but it's talking about preparation and that's an important aspect of this. I know a lot about a very few things, but those things are all that my classroom discusses. Obviously, Shakespeare and Milton and Dante are big, important aspects of the first part of my year, but so are the World Wars, writing, and a bunch of other things. One of the reasons that summer is so enjoyable and helpful as a teacher is that I get to sleep in. This lets me wake up at a more natural time, feel more energized, and gives me opportunities to think and write better (I hope) and practice the craft that I'm supposed to turn around and teach students.
See, I spend a lot of time during the summer writing and reading--two of the most important parts of my curriculum--both of which take up a lot of time. I read during the school year, of course, but it's almost always the stuff that I'm teaching in the class (even though I've read it all before). During the summer is where I can expand my interests and see what else out there will help in the classroom. Reading a horror novel is teaching me a lot about how to write, how to structure a narrative, how to share the right details. Writing these essays is helping me to remember how to organize thoughts on the fly, to refresh my own writing style, and thereby find ways of transmitting it to my students.
The summer break provides a dual purpose: To rejuvenate the learners (both teachers and students) and to give the teacher a chance to refill the passion reservoir. The rest that summer provides (rest from the familiar routine; this summer hasn't been particularly "restful" because we've done so much, but it's different than our other nine months, so that's okay) becomes the bedrock off of which excitement and desire to share what was learned is built. See, I feel anxious to get to my job almost every day. I'm happy to see the students, I'm excited to discuss whatever the topic is (except for the Age of Exploration; hate that time period). But there's more to the world than what I teach, and I use the summer to help find those pieces that will help my teaching in the future.
Hard Work is Rewarding
Because of our agricultural-turned-traditional learning schedule, it's likely we'll be stuck with summer vacations for the foreseeable future. While there are some negative parts of taking a three-month sabbatical (the loss of retention is a major flaw to this system), I think that there ought to be a wider-spread adoption of a larger chunk of time off.
I said to a friend once, "I don't see how you can handle working through the summer. Your schedule has no punctuation marks; it glides from week to week and month to month with nothing to look forward to. It's all one."
He responded, "But going back after summer is something I don't envy you."
Well, fair enough. But remember, I love teaching. The first two or three days are rough, but not to the point of wanting summer back. Once I'm in it, it's full-speed ahead, because the hardness of the work is where the reward comes from. I have had times when I couldn't sleep the night before a particular lesson because I was too excited to talk about Milton or Shakespeare. Does that happen to you in your job? If not, why not? And if so, is there a way to infuse more of that particular thing into your work?
See, I think America ought to slow down. Our obsession with money is over-the-border fetishized, and that obsession is leading us to believe that work is all there is. If our country slowed down--had more than a holiday, but maybe a holiweek or holimonth (it could be in July, when it's too hot to want to do anything anyway), we'd be better served. And, yeah, there are logistic problems--police and fire and health care would need to have "off vacations" so that there wouldn't be anarchy--but as a whole, taking a protracted break from work helps immensely.
I can only teach as I do because I have that time in which I can rest as hard as I work.