It
was supposed to break me. It was supposed to frustrate, humiliate,
and degrade me into quitting, or at least doing something foolish
that they could use against me.
I
dared to speak out. I dared to document, challenge, and call BULLSHIT
when I saw it. I filed lawsuits (and recently won a six figure
settlement). I named names and showed proof. I made phone calls and
forwarded documents. And in the end, I was returned to the ATR pool
(with no actual documentation that I am an ATR, but that’s another
blog for another day).
They
thought that playing ATR Roulette would frustrate me. It sounds
frustrating, doesn’t it? A new building, new staff, new work hours,
new students, new grade levels, new parking situations and new
commutes every few weeks, well, that has to be enough to break a
person. Especially when you get to a place and are assumed to be
incompetent even though you have nineteen years in and a clean file.
You are asked if you have ever taken attendance. You are asked if you
have ever been in a fire drill. You are told that the Smart Board is
“only for teachers” and that “subs always mess it up”. You
relinquish your name and become “The ATR” or “The Sub”. Kids
see you and gleefully say, “Oh, look, a SUB!” The teachers you
are helping don’t ask your name or even bother to glance at you,
simply telling the class, “That’s the sub who will be here while
I’m gone” as they run out the classroom door. Teachers with one
year in are giving YOU directions and telling YOU how to teach a
reading lesson (even though you are a Literacy Specialist with a
Master’s in Literacy and fifteen years in the job). And the
clincher – after a career spent almost exclusively with grades
seven and eight, you are sent to teach everything but those grades –
pre-K one day, fourth grade another, and on and on.
But
let me tell you, DOE. Your plan backfired. Spectacularly. Not only
have I not been broken, but I have become a stronger, better teacher
and stronger better person for your efforts. I am a better teacher
than I have EVER been – and it’s all thanks to you and your ATR
pool.
You
thought the constant changing of schools would be frustrating. Let
me tell you, while there are a few oddball commutes here and there, I
have found parts of my district that I never would have found had it
not been for the monthly spin of the ATR Roulette Wheel. I have
friends and colleagues in almost every school in my district. I know
which schools are wonderful places to be, and where to avoid at all
costs. I have a keen sense of what works in a school, and can see
how vile administration can wreck a place by creating an atmosphere
of intimidation. I’ve been able to support colleagues who have been
beaten down and targeted, and provide welcome assistance when I can.
I’ve truly learned how to HELP, and do it willingly and joyfully.
And I can do this BECAUSE, at some point, I move on, thanks to the
system YOU have designed.
I’ve
developed the best poker face ANYWHERE. When I am in a train wreck of
a school, with a nasty, back-stabbing staff and insane
administration, I can look on with bemused detachment. I can take
solace in the fact that in a few weeks I move on, and take pity on
those who have to stay. I keep my game face on, and count the days
until I leave the train wreck behind. I can even do this when the DOE
sends supervisors and other officials to “coach” us. You’ll
never see me sweat or smirk, but what I’m thinking is another
story. But you’ll never know.
Thanks
to the ATR pool, I’ve been moved out of my comfort zone – and
discovered that I can do ANYTHING. For years, I taught in middle
school. Mostly grades seven and eight. I never thought about teaching
any other grade, especially the “Littles”. As an ATR, you teach
whatever grade you are given. I bet, DOE, that you thought that would
drive me nuts. Well, let me tell you – I have been able to see
great teachers in action at every level and have learned much from
them. As a result, I can walk into ANY classroom – from Pre-K to
tenth grade – and teach something. On the spot. Immediately. And I
can be successful doing it. I have become an absolutely FEARLESS
teacher. And I owe it all to you.
I
have become the BEST classroom manager I have ever been. Nothing like
being “the Sub” to make classroom management a huge log roll.
But, I’ve learned to walk in my own experience and authority,
keeping my “teacher” presence and confidence in place. I can
settle a Kindergarten class I have never seen before in less than a
minute. I can have a sixth grade class ready to work in less than two
– even though I have never seen them before. I can build a
relationship with a group of students in a day or two and keep it
going until I move on.
I
have become mentally agile and unbelievably resourceful. There’s
nothing like having a class of twenty five first graders looking at
you when you discover that nothing has been left for you for the day.
But thanks to you, I can “read” a classroom, find what I need,
and make the day productive by simply making inferences from what IS
left. Being an obsessive “planner”, I have discovered that I am,
in fact, capable of thinking on my feet. Thank you for that.
Most
of all, I have learned to appreciate my own skills and to stand up
for myself. I now insist that colleagues address me by name. I call
out secretaries, school aides, and paras when they speak to me like I
am an idiot, or when they speak about me to each other as if I am not
there. I’ve learned to demand professional treatment and respect.
I’ve stood up for myself when fellow teachers have treated me as a
subordinate, or worse. I don’t let them get away with it anymore.
I’ve learned when to stand up and call bullshit, and do it
politely, but without fear. I have become a force to be reckoned
with.
So,
DOE, thank you for this. Thank you for placing me in this situation
where I have become the strongest, most effective, most resourceful
teacher I have EVER been. I know this wasn’t your plan. But that’s
ok – because of this I have learned that I am made of strong stuff.
That I am a survivor and that I am amazingly competent and capable.
Hit me with your best shot, DOE.
I’ll
hit it right back.