Viewpoint: A day in the life of a teacher during COVID-19
Author's note: My name is Shelby Phelps, and I’ve been a high school English teacher for the past 6 years. I am writing this letter to express my concern about low teacher morale in the EVSC. I was going to provide a shortened version of this piece at the school board meeting on Monday night, but they are choosing to decline public comment at this time.
On Friday morning, I stood outside my classroom, greeting students at my door.
“Are you ready for the big game tonight, Ryan?”
“Hey, Tasha! I missed you this week. I’m so glad you’re here!”
A student ran up to me, “Ms. Phelps! I have your drawing ready!”
Gavin, a freshman with curly blue hair and Doc Martens opened up his sketchbook. “What do you think?”
Me, somewhat in tears, exclaimed, “This looks exactly like me! From the hair to the glasses, all the way down to the tattoos! This is amazing, Gavin! I really appreciate this.”
We talked briefly, only to be interrupted by the sound of the bell.
“I’ll come talk to you later, Phelps!” We wave at each other and smile beneath our masks.
I love being a teacher, and I love being able to work with the diverse population of students at my school. However, with the amounting responsibilities I have as a teacher, I’m finding less and less time for students like Gavin, students that long for a mentor, a person to talk to, and someone to celebrate their successes. My fear is that, by December, highly qualified and invested teachers like myself will leave their classrooms in search of better opportunities — ones that will treat them as deserving professionals.
My typical day in the classroom starts between 6:30 and 6:45 in the morning. As soon as I arrive, I wipe down desks, door knobs, and other high-contact surfaces. I post the agenda on the board with our class objective and practice for the day. I say good morning to all my college credit seniors, a bright group of young people, as they arrive in my classroom at 7:10. We listen to the school announcements at 7:30 and by 7:35, we begin analyzing a text and conduct a short discussion before the bell rings to go to the next class at 8:19.
As soon as the bell rings, I have four minutes to change the Powerpoint for my next class and spray down the students’ desks with disinfectant. I also have four minutes to switch my brain to the next subject I teach: AP Language and Composition. More reading, more analyzing, more discussing and then the bell rings at 9:12. I walk the students to the door and make it back to my desk at 9:16 to sit down for lunch. I have 20 minutes, which is barely enough time to collect my thoughts, let alone try to eat something before I walk down to lunch duty at 9:36.
After lunch duty, I sit down for my 49-minute plan period and attempt to complete some grading before the cadence of the day rolls on: bell rings, spray down desks, teach, bell rings, wipe down desks, teach, until the bell rings at 2:30 to signify the end of the day.
Meanwhile, seemingly a thousand questions race through my mind: Did I meet the needs of my in-person students? Did I make sure to turn on my document camera so students can join my class virtually? Did I provide enough support for my remote learners? Did I hit record? What class is this again? Did I say the objective? Am I doing this right? Am I even a good teacher?
The day of a teacher is never over at the 2:30 bell. By the time I talk to Gavin and other students, attend meetings, plan lessons, grade assignments, make my own copies, clean the desks again, and pack up my computer, it’s 5 o’clock at night, and I still haven’t finished everything I needed to before the next school day. I tiredly shuffle to my car, questioning if I met the needs of my students, all 106 of them, from different backgrounds, socioeconomic classes, and various levels of mental health who attend both in-person and remotely.
I’m exhausted because I work hard — like many other teachers — because I value, support, and care for our children. Yet, we cannot continue to sustain the high-expectation and low-reward lifestyle that is the norm for teachers in this district.
The only solace I have is knowing that I am not alone. I am not the only teacher feeling immense exhaustion due to district-wide decisions that have forced more onto teacher plates, without any teacher voice in the process. Not once did the district ask teachers to offer feedback for decisions that directly affected our profession this year. Not once did the district call teachers to a town hall to help provide solutions for COVID-related procedures. Not once did the district ask if we could realistically handle the amount of stress put upon us. Not once.
As teachers, we have been flexible. At the high school level, we have adapted to new COVID procedures, elimination of block scheduling, new cleaning procedures, classes that we’ve never taught before, masks all day, shortened lunches, shortened plans, more remediation and retests before and after school due to the loss third period enrichment, short-term remote students, and soon long-term remote students, whom we will teach virtually but will never see sitting in our classrooms.
Now, it’s time for the district to be flexible. We need realistic and valuable solutions to get us through this year and to prevent teachers from leaving in December or at the end of the school year. This district needs teachers like me, “highly effective” teachers that care for students and their education, teachers that are willing to go the extra mile, teachers that know their worth.
As a district, we must better support our current educators. One solution is to provide mental health days to teachers in order to take a much-needed pause to regroup and re-energize. Another solution is to consider teacher pay as the top priority in the upcoming budget years to lessen the financial burden on teachers and their families.
Realistically, the most cost-efficient solution would be to give teachers a voice in conversations that affect our daily professional lives. With the virtual age we live in, the district could easily conduct Zoom meetings to host live, moderated discussions so all teachers could have a seat at the table. We could utilize 1- to 5-question surveys, to gather teacher input so we won’t feel left in the dark when decisions are made.
Teachers find solutions every single day, and if the district would let us, we could guide our district to equitable solutions to benefit both teachers and students alike.
This is about treating teachers how they deserve for the hard work, passion, and dedication they infuse into their classrooms every single day. More importantly, it’s about providing valuable educational experiences to our students and students like Gavin, who just want a mentor and someone to talk to in their young lives.
We must, as a district, create an environment where great teachers actually matter.