The Poor Mom Revolution

     With yet another school year coming to an end, I’ve been reflecting a lot about my teaching days. I’ve officially hit my 4th year of being out of the classroom and some days it feels like just yesterday and other times it feels like a lifetime ago. It’s so weird thinking back on every step it took me to get where I am and I wouldn’t trade any of it. The lessons I’ve learned through the chaos have made me stronger than ever. 

     Just the other day a photo popped up on my phone of a letter I received from one of my previous students. He thanked me for helping him throughout the year, but more importantly for keeping my promise. At the beginning of every year, I would make a blanket statement that I would never yell. I explained that I don’t like getting yelled at personally, I wouldn’t respond well to that and I am building a community where we have mutual respect. I would explain that my first year of teaching involved a lot of raised voices and it didn’t help with learning or behavior so I decided to be better. At the end of the year, he told me that he’s been yelled at every single year and hated school because of that.  I surprised him by talking to him instead! It made me cry to know that I made a difference, but also that something small like having patience and showing compassion wasn’t something he experienced often. 

     My first year of teaching was rough. I remember having 26 kindergarteners all ages 4-5 with the majority not attending preschool prior. To say it was chaotic is an understatement. Coming straight out of college with no actual experience running my own classroom to a brand new school was a lot more than I bargained for. I remember a group of us taking turns at the end of the day crying in my colleagues closet out of frustration and pure exhaustion. I can still remember kids taking off their shoes, throwing them and running around in circles like the Energizer bunny. I had put a pair at the top of the closet to prevent anyone from getting hit by one. It was pretty crazy! I remember questioning my life choices that year as I attempted to figure out how to make a difference and not merely survive. 

     I get asked all the time if I miss it or if I’d go back and my answer is always the same, “no.” The kids were and always will be the best part of the job and the only part I actually miss! The struggle and battle to fight for those kids daily with the feeling of everything and everyone working against you is exhausting and a feeling I’m okay never feeling again. Most teachers have a similar personality which makes them caring, passionate and have an over achieving persona. The problem becomes the stress and mental load that comes from those pressures to do well and be amazing, which creates a negative and competitive atmosphere that when it comes down to it… sucks. I’ve mentioned it before, but when I’m working 40+ hours a week with a group of people, I’m expecting a positive, collaborative environment where we all want each other to succeed and not a one up each other competition that leaves you feeling defeated. 

     I think as teachers by trade, we forget how making a difference should feel and that there are a variety of ways to do that without necessarily being in the classroom or in the same school for 30 years. We thrive on making a difference above all else, including sacrificing our own mental sanity. For me, change was always a terrifying thing but a necessary evil. I knew the type of place I wanted to be in and I’d continue until I found it. I’ve always been one to never settle and didn’t feel as though I needed to even as I entered my teaching career. 

     As I enter my fourth full-time year in the summer camp industry, I’m constantly reminded that the people around you can make or break it. That laughing until you almost cry is the norm and not the exception. That there are people that support you, push you to succeed, do better, and team up to fix problems that arise while also reminding you that family comes first. I knew when I was 10 years old that this camp was my home away from home and am grateful for the long journey it took for me to get here permanently. So when it comes down to it… the classroom isn’t what I call home anymore… and I love that for me.