It’s blog season.
New blogs and new bloggers popping up everywhere make me a little excited and a little… frustrated.
I love the newness, love the enthusiasm, love the optimistic anticipation. Of course. But reading First Posts is a little uncomfortable for me, because I can remember so well when I felt the same way and wrote the same things. I don’t feel the same way anymore, can’t bring myself to write those same things anymore.
I hesitate to call myself jaded, because I’ll always be my good old idealistic self deep down. I do, however, feel more sad and broken than I ever thought I’d feel after two years of The TFA.
The problem is so much less simple than it looked when I joined. After 3.5 years of college, I saw unbelievable injustice and I saw educational inequity as a root. I saw kids not getting the education they deserved, and I saw teachers as the interface between kids and their education… and while I didn’t say it (because even then I could smell the controversy), my idea of a solution came out in everything I thought, said, or wrote: Teachers are the providers of education and kids aren’t getting educated, so obviously we just need to find better teachers, train better teachers, BE better teachers. I guess I probably thought I’d found the ultimate gold-mine of Making A Difference.
Everything is so much more muddled and difficult than that. Reading more and learning more about this mess only brings more confusion and reveals more complexity. I agree with too much that I read and don’t disagree with anything.
Add to all this reading and blog-surfing my two years of experiences in the system (especially those experiences responsible for me sitting in a coffee shop blogging at 2pm on a Tuesday, instead of teaching 6th period), and … that’s when I run out of words. What do I SAY about this? How can I express my self-interested feelings of indignance along with my feelings of sad helplessness on behalf of my kids along with this ANGER I suddenly feel toward everyone?
I’m angry at everyone. TFA, at my school district, at my principal, at my MTLD, at the Unions, at Seattle, at Diane Ravitch, at Michelle Rhee, at all the 2010s and all the new CMs coming in. I’m probably mad at you, too. For no reason, except probably that I’m just mad at myself for not feeling like a born teacher.
I don’t feel helpless to the point of inaction—quite the opposite. I feel like MOVING. But I do feel just helpless enough that part of me wants to distance myself from this problem for a while so I can heal.