If I Could Quit My Job as a Teacher Right Now, I Would

There would be no effort to keep me around anyway

“Go help people learn,” they said. It will be fun. And for a while, it was. It truly was.

However, after 19 years — Jesus, how did time go by so fast? — I can only say I am exhausted beyond belief. Tired, uninspired, and with very little motivation to keep doing the job I used to enjoy.

It’s the feeling that no one cares anymore.

Here’s an important fact: when I quit, most won’t care. Yes, a few of my students will say, “Oh, but we really liked you.” Some coworkers will ask, “Really?” And my boss, aka the educational authorities? They will shrug and send the next teacher on the queue to take my place.

The fact that I carry so many years of expertise, that they have invested a fair amount of money training me, that I have accumulated a ton of certifications through the years….none of that will matter. In fact, there will likely be some relief since, despite signing bonuses, they will be able to get away with paying less to the new teacher in the long term.

There will be no effort to keep me around, and, in fact, there’s no one I can talk to in order to discuss how to improve my working conditions. Teachers are expected to suck it up, as they have for years: always overworked, underpaid, and, most of the time, with very little appreciation. Finally, after being called everything from glorified nannies to freeloaders, teachers are starting to say, “Enough!”

Not only that, in reality, we are barely able to teach anymore. Between useless paperwork that goes straight into spreadsheets that no one bothers reading and intrusive legislation that censors what we can and can’t say in the classroom — even though most of that involves, you know, teaching — the job has become soul-sucking.

What we really do.

The work we used to do had meaning. We provided context and guidance so new learnings could sink in. We made the unfamiliar less scary. We did our best to implement strategies so all of the kids in the room could feel supported. We would approach the students that needed additional assistance so they would not, as they say, stay behind.

But classes kept on getting bigger to maximize resources — this semester, I’ll have 10 classes with 50 students each, for example. Financial and material support was cut off massively so, all of the things I need to do my job — computer, high-speed internet connection, books, software licensing — is supposed to come from my pocket.

Now we are tasked with pretending to teach kids how to be freethinkers while treating them like cattle. We are to label them and identify those who “don’t fit the standards” and send them down the rabbit hole of special services that don’t have nearly enough funding to fulfill their goal.

We are asked to simulate we are promoting literary and mathematical proficiency while, in reality, we are teaching the art of compliance. Students are to obey, follow the dress code, and not make too much noise while, at the same time, learning how to answer standardized tests. If they fail to do any of the above, then I have failed as a teacher. There are plenty of people happy to tell me so.

Just get another job then!

That’s what we have been told over and over again, with a nagging tone. “Well, if you hate it so much, just quit, bitch!”

Guess what? Teachers are starting to follow this advice by retiring earlier than expected. They are quitting and have no intention of looking back. And no, it’s not just about the money. Teachers have been doing this work with low wages for decades.

It’s about disrespect.

Our lives mean nothing — in some cases, we are literally expected to be willing to take a bullet or catch a dangerous virus, all in the name of duty. Moreover, our sense of fulfillment in the job has been annihilated since our effectiveness is rated according to our students' results in a series of exhausting tests. Tests that, by the way, “don’t take advantage of everything teachers know about their students.”

When you find yourself in a working environment where you are repeatedly shown that you are not important at all, it’s just a matter of time before you start looking for something else.

In a way, this could be the greatest teaching we leave to our students: You don’t have to suck it up. Don’t let them walk all over you; no job is worth getting your soul crushed day in and day out.

What I’m going to do.

And what about me? Am I going to quit any time soon? The answer is a resounding, “Yes!” I am working on alternative sources of income to explore my interests while supporting my family. Like many others who are currently stuck in a job in which they don’t feel appreciated, I intend to use that income to pay off debt and give myself enough of a head start to explore uncharted territories. One could argue, I’m going to use the job that has so shamelessly used me.

I get it. In a way, I allowed all of this: I took the job and kept my mouth shut just because I thought I was making a big difference in the world. However, now that the sense of achievement — the only thing that kept me going — is pretty much gone, what’s left then? Now that our bosses are actively making it more difficult to help students, what’s a teacher to do?

The answer, of course, is to find another way to reach people and share your gifts. And that’s what I intend to do. So, yes, it was fun while it lasted. However, the bell has rung, and the day is over. It’s time to look for whatever might lie beyond the school grounds.