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Bio: Sarah Styf is a 19-year high school English teacher. She lives in the Indianapolis area with her husband and two children. She is passionate about education reform and civic engagement. She can be found on Instagram @sarah.styf and Twitter @sarahstyf.

Dear First Year Teacher,

It’s been nineteen years since I walked into my first classroom, but I remember it like yesterday. It was a small private school on the far south side of Chicago. The school had little money, I was the only English teacher for 9-12 grade, and my 80+ students came from a whole range of experiences and socio-economic circumstances.

I was in way over my head, but I think I only cried once at school that year. Right before lunch, a series of events with my most challenging class of the day led to the collapse of a flimsy shelf, and–while now the situation seems so small–I melted into a puddle of tears as soon as all of my students left the room.

That first year was hard, but it was also a first-year that didn’t include the challenges of social media, cell phones that do more than send text messages, the lasting impact of No Child Left Behind and Race to the Top (because they didn’t exist yet), and struggles of two years of living through all the different traumas brought on by a global pandemic.

That first year was not a first-year in 2021.

Normally, I would tell a struggling teacher that it gets better, so much better. The first year doubts and mistakes melt away into confidence by year three. That you will spend the first year surviving, the second year correcting the mistakes of year one, and the third year on the cusp of thriving. I would tell a struggling teacher to give it three years in the same place. Get to know your colleagues and administrators and students. Don’t be afraid to say no but give yourself opportunities to know and be known for all the right reasons.

But that was before 2021.

That was before a global pandemic collided with a political climate that turned our very health into a political statement. That was before schools around the country closed and teachers had days to figure out how to finish out the 2019-2020 school year without having their students in front of them. That was before schools spent most of the next year trying to figure out hybrid learning, remote learning, teaching with masks (and sometimes without), and a year of students who never showed up to learn at all. That was before teachers were charged with helping students who hadn’t effectively learned in 18 months “catch up” to their assigned grade level without addressing the trauma that students and teachers had endured over the last two years.

The reality is that 2021 laid bare all of the problems that experienced educators had been trying to address for far too long. You probably heard about those problems from your teachers when you were in high school and still determined to major in education. You probably heard even more from your professors as you moved through your education programs. But nothing can prepare you for dealing with those problems in real-time. Just like nothing can prepare you for how much you will simultaneously love and loathe what you do on a daily basis. Theory and practice pale in comparison to the joys and frustrations of having your own classroom and students who are truly “your” kids.

And nothing could have prepared you for your 2021 trial by fire.

You entered a profession in a year when teachers are jumping ship weekly, new postings open up daily, and districts struggle to get substitute bodies into classrooms to supervise students who desperately need to be educated. The “Great Resignation” seems to have hit education and isn’t slowing down. If ever there was a year to quit when the struggles of first-year teaching just got to be too much, this year would seem to be the year.

But if you went into education because you love kids, you love learning, and you want to impact the next generation, don’t give up. If you went into education because you believe that education is the way to change the world, keep persevering. If you went into education because it’s all you ever imagined yourself doing, hold onto the dream.

Because as hard as this year is, as big as the problems seem to be, as much as it may seem that we don’t have the support from parents and our communities and the politicians making decisions about our classroom, remember that it is always the darkest before the dawn. This too shall pass. When the dust has cleared, you may find that your options are endless. After all, you will have survived teaching during the 2021-2022 school year. Can it really get worse than that? (And please Universe, don’t make me regret those words.)

After three years at that first school nearly 20 years ago, I almost left education entirely. I had no idea what I would do but I just knew that if this is what my life was going to be like forever, my marriage was going to fall apart, I would never be able to have children, and I might actually lose my mind. Thankfully, I found a new position at a school where I was happy (but seriously overworked) for the next five years. Nineteen years after that first year of teaching, after trying to leave the profession three separate times, I keep coming back, because it is what I was meant to do. 

If this is what you are meant to do, don’t quit. If you believe in the power of education, don’t quit. If you can’t think of anything else to do, don’t quit.

Find a supportive mentor in your building who will help you manage more than just your lessons, surround yourself with loved ones who will keep you in check and help remind you to say no and set firm boundaries for yourself and schedule as many sessions as necessary with a therapist who at least pretends to understand. If your personal situation doesn’t improve, when the school year ends, don’t be afraid to step out of your comfort zone and find a better classroom situation where your experience will be an asset to your new school, colleagues, and students.

You went into education for a reason. Don’t let the most challenging year of education in living memory convince you otherwise.

Love,

A veteran teacher


Bio: Sarah Styf is a 19-year high school English teacher. She lives in the Indianapolis area with her husband and two children. She is passionate about education reform and civic engagement. She can be found on Instagram @sarah.styf and Twitter @sarahstyf.

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