In the midst of a recent meeting, someone mentioned the challenges facing teachers in this not exactly post-pandemic, highly polarized environment. Teachers are struggling, she explained. Forces beyond our control have combined to make the job more difficult than ever before.
Then she added, “That said, I also know that not everyone is struggling. Some are managing these challenges just fine, so if you’re one of those people, I don’t mean to put any of these feelings on you or make any assumptions that aren’t true for you.”
Such a smart thing to say, and so appreciated.
I’ve been in many situations in my life where the popular sentiment is assumed for all, and I never like it.
Sometimes these faulty assumptions don’t amount to much. I arrive at a complimentary breakfast, for example, only to discover that the sole beverage being served is coffee because most people drink coffee. I’ve never even tasted the stuff, so I am stuck beverage-less.
Annoying but ultimately not a big deal.
But when you’re feeling really good about yourself for excelling despite the challenges you face, and someone makes the claim that “Everyone is struggling” or “We’re all having a tough time,” it doesn’t feel very good. The implication is that your success isn’t real, or you must be missing something, or your achievement doesn’t matter.
Back in college, I was sitting in a class one day, listening to the professor talk about the struggles of my classmates and her intention to alter the syllabus to accommodate their needs. “Maybe I assigned too much work,” she said. “Or maybe we just need to slow down a bit. But either way, I can’t keep moving forward at this pace while everyone is struggling to maintain a low C at best.”
The problem:
I had an A in the class. Through hard work but mostly a relentless passion for the subject, I had managed to achieve excellence in a class that I frankly didn’t find all that challenging.
When you love your job, it doesn’t feel like work.
I wasn’t unsympathetic to my classmates’ struggles, and I certainly wasn’t going to protest a change in the syllabus, but I felt lousy about being lumped in with my many struggling classmates.
If the professor had simply said, “I can’t keep moving forward at this pace while most of you struggle to maintain a low C at best,” I would’ve felt just fine. But by placing my classmates’ struggles on my shoulders, too, I felt like my efforts and achievement were irrelevant and meaningless. Possibly unnoticed or unappreciated.
I was annoyed. A quarter century later, I’m still annoyed.
This is why I appreciated what my colleague said in that recent meeting. Yes, it’s true. Many teachers are struggling these days. A multitude of forces – many related to the effects of the pandemic and growing partisanship – have made the teaching profession more challenging than ever before. My colleagues are wholly and fully justified in their struggle.
But some teachers are undoubtedly managing these challenges well. Brilliantly, even. Some are excelling at their work and loving their job despite the forces aligned against us. Some might be just as happy with their profession today as they were four years ago.
I might even know a few of those people. I might even resemble some of them.
Space needs to be made to acknowledge them, too. Not a lot of space, of course, but just enough to allow them to feel good about themselves and the work they are doing.
They need to know that they are seen, too.
Like my colleague did.
Making general but accurate statements about the majority is fine, just as long as you carve out a tiny space for those in the minority who are feeling and doing differently and want to know that they have been seen and acknowledged, too.
