Every year in college basketball the NCAA holds a season’s end tournament affectionately referred to as “March Madness.” Sixty-four, now sixty-eight or seventy-two––I can’t seem to keep up with the specific changes––of the top teams in the country enter in mid-March and by early April one team is crowned national champion. The tournament is a sudden death elimination style and, hence the moniker, subject to catastrophic upsets, last second finishes, and sporting chaos. A line made famous by 1974 national champion NC State coach, the late Jim Valvanno, the goal of the grueling tournament is to survive and advance. This school year, I shoot hoops with a group of students and fellow teachers Fridays after school. This school year, I remind myself of that line––survive and advance––from Sunday evening through noon Friday. This school year feels like one long, grueling March Madness tournament.    

This school year I’ve stopped answering colleagues with the words I’m good when they ask me how I am. I’ve somehow kinda naturally melted into answering that question with the words I’m here. It’s more truthful. Truth is, I am not good. I am merely here. Right now nothing will change this. No long weekend, no sauna or steam bath, no situation with school. Am I selfish to hope that summer break will reset my spirits? I know it must. Because to survive and advance should be a mindset reserved for coaches entering relentless competition. Not for teachers entering exhausting schools.  

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• Telling students to sit still and work.

I have fallen victim to this hypocrisy many times. In the past, I have expected my students to sit and work for forty minutes straight and fuss when a few of them keep getting out of their chairs every five minutes. But when it comes time for these teachers to do their work…oh, I guess the same rule doesn’t apply, huh? The next time you sit down to mark a set of English papers or write a bunch of report cards, keep a running tally of how many times over the course of an hour you need to take a mental break. In fact, right after I finish this sentence I think I’ll go check to see what’s in the fridge (even though I ate an hour ago)…

• Be quiet and listen when I am talking.

The heading actually isn’t completely accurate. It should read, “Be quiet and listen when I am talking…and listen some more when I keep talking, and keep listening while I keep rambling.” When we talk (some people call it instructing, or teaching) for 20 minutes straight, we shouldn’t immediately snap on the kid that is fiddling with his pencil or looking out the window. I am not saying that your kids shouldn’t be paying attention when you are talking in front of the class. But how many times have you zoned out during a staff meeting? And I bet when you did, your principal didn’t snap on you for losing focus.

• Deadlines

What a touchy subject indeed. Of course teachers are professionals so at the end of the day accountability comes before complacency. But maybe I’m the only one that hasn’t learned from every single teacher I once had that told me, “You don’t want to wait until the night before to do this.” So now, let’s think about a student. Yes, a student and not a professional; a kid who is still learning about the finer things in life who, by the way, doesn’t get paid to complete an experiment on photosynthesis. When you think about it like that, it’s surprising to realize the amount of students that actually put their entire effort into completing that map of Canada for you.

These are just three lighthearted examples of the ways in which teaching can sometimes be a job that is a little bit hypocritical. Focus, attentive behavior and deadlines are all important aspects to learning and the school process. We can’t proceed without them. But it is something to keep in mind the next time we step into the classroom and go through a day of negotiations with our students.

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This dilemma has come up in many conversations I’ve had with educators over the last few years. Can the teacher also be the friend? Arguments go back and forth on issues pertaining to professionalism and ideals of the student-teacher relationship. Almost every teacher I have engaged in this discussion with has started and finished by firmly stating that, “We are not here to be students’ friends. There is always a line that teachers shouldn’t cross.”

I guess we will have to agree to disagree.

What gets lost in this conversation is the fluid meaning of “friendship”. Most think that being a friend somehow implies an equal relationship. Just because someone perceives you as a friend does not automatically mean that the relationship is equal. It doesn’t even mean that the understanding of the relationship is mutual. So by extension, if a student thinks that you are their “friend”, doesn’t that benefit your relationship with them, rather than hinder it?

This moves the discussion into student perception. My students in that 8^th grade class viewed me as a friend. In whatever skewed way they evaluated and acted upon “friendship”, they not only saw me as their teacher, but they also saw me as a person who they could confide in and relate to. Throughout that year, I had no real issues where students attempted to attack my role as their teacher. I felt that our discussions about things that revolved around “outside issues” brought us closer as a class. It made our relationships stronger. I was able to do less “teacher talk” and negotiate routines, work habits, and levels of academic standards more naturally. If I came in sick and needed students to “work with me” because I simply didn’t have the energy to stay on top of every last classroom interruption, my students would catch on. They would catch on not by a heavy-handed lecture or a loud rant, but by a simple glance and conveyance of my need for them to help me out. Maybe they did that because they liked me as a “teacher”, or maybe they did that because they, then, thought of me as a “friend” who they wanted to help out. I don’t know the reason, but if it was the latter, I have no problem with my students considering me their friend as well as their teacher.

Simply put, the idea of the teacher being the “friend” relies on the fluid definition of the word “friend”. Teachers will use the example of parenting and retort that, “I am not my daughter’s friend, I am her mom.” Okay, if that is your notion of friendship, then I cannot argue with it. But in my life, my mother was not only a mom, she was a friend as well, at least from my perspective. This is because, in my opinion, a friend can sometimes be synonymous with a “parent” or “teacher” or “leader”. So, if my students consider me their friend, I guess I am good with that.

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I know this to be true because four years ago, I was in your exact same position. I had jumped through all the necessary loops and after receiving that phone call from my future principal saying that I was hired, I had never been more excited. That excitement carried me to my school that summer. I met my principal and he gave me the lay of the land with the final destination being my classroom. When we finally reached there he said, “Here are your classroom keys, set it up how you want and I will see you on the first day of school.” With that statement, I entered the deep waters of teaching on my own and without a safety jacket. Honestly speaking, that excitement of realizing that I had finally earned myself a career vanquished and was replaced with a humbling fear.

This was no longer a test. When you get your first job as a teacher, it is the real thing. When September rolls around, you are for all purposes, own your own, responsible for the nurturing and educational guidance of young minds. The mark you leave seems indelible. It is a scary experience. But there is one thing that you will never have to worry about as a new teacher. And that is establishing yourself to your students as a “teacher”.

Our traditional educational system, despite its many shortcomings, has safeguarded many elements essential to teaching. The most important is that “a teacher is a teacher”. The nights leading up to my first day of school, I had “teacher dreams” of walking into my classroom and my students calling me “Matthew”. I thought I would have to scratch and claw my road to authority over them. But unbeknownst to me, was the systemic value that all students intrinsically hold for teachers.

Your identity will be formed as you grow into the profession. But lose no sleep over wondering if students will consider you a “real” teacher or not, because once you are in front of your own class, you are their real teacher. Negotiating over students about your authority as a teacher is the one thing you can thank the system for. Schooling has programmed students to respect (and unfortunately depend on) the adults in front of them to guide them. So for those brand new teachers who are worried about how they will be taken up in the classroom by their students, my advice: don’t worry, it will be automatic.

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Students will wear on you. Keep in mind that most children come equipped with battery packs of never ending enthusiasm and excitement. And “our lovelies” are especially on high octane when amongst friends! When I first got into teaching I realized that children routinely live on a natural high. It wasn’t until I had taught for a year that I realized teacher burnout was real. Students already have the unbridled confidence, courage, and spontaneity that life’s “maturity” will eventually thwart. It is through the process of education and the “dumbing down” of education that siphons that natural curiosity, conviction and potential. Some of the things I have heard kids say to me and to their friends have left me wondering if adolescence is really the only period during our lives when people are genuinely honest to others and themselves. Any institution full of children (regardless of age) is a place that is full of energy. The public school is a business that is always on the go. And this is also the reason why so many teachers feel exhausted at the end of the day!

Some days, teaching in elementary school feels like going out sober to a bar or club with friends while everyone else is drunk! That feeling of responsibility, awareness, and utter disbelieve of what is going on around you is almost the same feeling that most teachers experience by the end of a hot spring day. It is the feeling of being drained and tired – the feeling of actually needing a drink for oneself! The high-stakes energy-consuming vacuum that is public school is the reality those in the teaching profession encounter on a daily basis. It is grueling and demanding, not just in a cerebral sense of handling day plans, meetings, and classes. It is also emotionally wearing in dealing with twenty to thirty unabashed, ready-to-go personas on an every day basis. Most teachers who get into the profession are “people persons”. They thrive and desire to interact with people. Most teachers love to talk. However, teaching in a school will throw one’s “people person” affinity into high gear. So be warned – the summers off are needed to ward off the “burn out” that we teachers inevitably face if we had to do this job 24/7, 365 (366 in a leap year – God forbid!)

Teaching is a high-energy profession and it always must be. The creativeness and liveliness that children possess is something that should be cherished, nurtured, and furthered. It should not be stomped out and delegitimized. Unfortunately, somewhere along the “assembly line” of schooling, the creative powers and uniqueness of each child slowly becomes extinguished. We foster attitudes that are dependent on authority and teach our children to equate their self-worth with the marks they receive. We teach children to “fall in line” and aspire to conformity and docile forms of “universality”. As new teachers, it is our duty to circumvent this colossal paradigm shift in as many ways as we can. Inspire creativity and uniqueness. Applaud unbridled confidence. Allow your students to grow naturally; please do not asphyxiate them with the rigor mortis of today’s society. Even if that means you are worn down at the end of the day, we must bare our energy for the sake of our students who have so much to gain.

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