Dear Governor Nathan Deal...

As an educator, I tell my students to do the right thing, and I try to model that for them. I encourage them to stand up for what they believe in, and make a difference. After attending NCTE last week, I crafted this letter to mail to Governor Deal (I also plan on tweaking it and sending it to my senators and state representative). I will be mailing the letters later this week.

Here we go...

Dear Governor Nathan Deal,

I'm sure you've heard this recurring theme in letters you've received, but I would be remiss if I did not take this opportunity. Your teachers are tired. I am aware that many of these letters are written off as just another griping and complaining teacher telling you that we work too hard, but, alas, we get summers off! How hard could it be?

I have several questions I'd like to ask you:

1. Can you think of a teacher who made an impact on your life? What was that impact? Chances are, the impact they made had more to do with their wit, their creativity, their passion, and a life lesson you learned than it had to do with the subject they taught or a test you took.
2. How much time have you spent in classrooms over the course of your administration? I'm not talking a walk-through of a school, or a meeting held in a school. When have you gotten on our students’ levels? Asked them what they like about school? What they wish they had more time for? Did you spend a day in a teacher’s shoes? Administrators?

Our schools contain our nation’s unwritten history, and that is a big responsibility to put on the shoulders of men and women who are overworked and underappreciated.

As an educator, within any given day I am teacher, mentor, colleague, nurse, counselor, actress, friend, and many times, foe. I am known for my high expectations, and my students (at times begrudgingly) rise to the challenge.

Recently you proposed Amendment 1 to the Georgia Constitution, that, although written in nice and flowery diction, failed. I've read several articles about your frustration with its failure. I'd like to clarify some things for you. Educators advocated against the amendment because of the questions I've asked above. Yes, you have an advisory board of teachers, but as with most surveys, they are in no way representative of the whole.

In addition, if you've never been an educator, you have no idea the frustrations of being told what and how to teach and the supreme stifling of creativity that results. This past weekend I spent 3 days with thousands of Language Arts educators from across the country at the National Coalition of Teachers of English (NCTE) convention. In one session we had middle school students from around the metro area sit down for roundtable discussions. The recurring theme of things the students wanted was to know their teachers cared. Many of them feel their teachers don’t care.

This breaks my heart, and it should break yours, too.

As I’m sure you know, in a publication from the Georgia DOE in December of 2015, they released the attrition data of teachers in the state. 44% of teachers leave the profession before they reach year five. I personally know of three phenomenal educators who left the field because they couldn’t take the pressure.

“If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.” Well, Governor Deal, teachers aren’t in an uncomfortably warm kitchen; they are trying to shape young minds, but are trapped in an inferno of policy and data.

Teachers do care. We care so much that it hurts our very souls to see students fail. The clincher? Some teachers don’t have the time to show how much they care. Within fifty minutes of instruction, we are expected to have students read independently, craft written responses, participate in class discussions, and ensure they learn how to analyze poetry, non fiction texts, and classic pieces of literature. We are also expected to make learning hands-on and fun for the various types of learners in our classrooms. Our classes are bursting at the seams with 35 students: some with IEPs, some that are Gifted, some that are ELL, and don’t forget about our middle-of-the-road students who always seem to get lost in the shuffle. Are you tired from seeing all of this information again and again? Well, I assure you that your teachers are tired of saying the above repeatedly and being met with little to no response. We are also expected to create high quality assessments, analyze the data from the last assessments we gave, and provide effective feedback to all 140 of our students. It becomes difficult to cater to each student who needs you and to show them that you care when you hit the ground running the second they walk into the confines of your classroom.

Everywhere I turn I see people complaining about teachers. We are never enough. We’re too strict, too tough, and we ask too much of our students. The profession of teaching has lost its humanity.

Let me be clear, this is not our administrators’ fault. They are doing what’s expected of them, so please don’t shift the blame of failing schools from teachers to administrators. The blame should be placed on our policymakers and stakeholders.

Governor Deal, this is only my third year of teaching, and I refuse to become another statistic. I keep my head down and with confidence know I am doing good things within the walls of my classroom. I create a culture of openness, as do my peers. However, even after two and a half years, I am exhausted to the core of my being. I will continue to pour into my students and be a light to my colleagues. I will not stop fighting. I continually tell my students to do the right thing, and I would be a poor example if I did not follow my own advice and expectation.

I would love to know how you plan to make big changes throughout the rest of your time as governor of the state of Georgia. I would like to know how you plan to lighten teachers’ loads, decrease teacher attrition rates, and spend more time in our local schools. I would like to see this plan take into consideration the specific needs of our administrators, teachers, and students, but without another government takeover policy. What will you do to ensure our students become productive members of society and the workforce, and not just prepared for yet another standardized test?

Thank you for your time, and I look forward to hearing from you soon,

Ms. Victoria Rivard

Getting Comfortable with Being Uncomfortable as an Educator

This past weekend I had the privilege of attending the National Coalition of Teachers of English (NCTE) national convention here in Atlanta. After taking about 24 hours to digest everything I've seen, heard, learned, and discussed, I've come to one conclusion...

I am emotionally exhausted. 

The theme of this weekend was "Faces of Advocacy," and we watched this video. (It's nothing graphic, but it will leave you feeling a bit uncomfortable). We then had a discussion about bystanders vs. upstanders (hint- upstanders stand up). As I watched that video the second time through, I kept thinking about how much I'd like to go up to the projector and turn it off. It made me extraordinarily uncomfortable. With how high-speed our world is, just as quickly as I can turn something on, I can turn it off. As I sat at a table with educators discussing our reactions, another woman turned and said, "I'm so guilty of this with the news. I turn it off when stories are shown that make me sad or angry." I do this all of the time. Now, there are certain things I need to emotionally protect me from that can trigger me, but for the most part, I don't watch/listen because I don't want to know. 

Privilege is a word that's been circulating quite frequently lately. I could go right on ahead and provide a list of the types of adversities I've faced in my life, but in truth, I've led a blessed life. When we lost my dad, my mom's friends swooped in and took care of so many things, many of which I'm just learning about. Our neighbors fed us for months and took care of me after school. My mom, sisters, and I grew closer as a family. 

I've always had a roof over my head and food in my belly. I grew up in a house filled with books, with parents and grandparents who read constantly. I went to good schools. I got to dance in large part to the owners of the studio who helped make that happen. My parents made it possible to go on vacations. I joined Girl Scouts where I got to swim with manatees, go caving, learn about Savannah and Charleston history, and so much more. 

I was never denied this opportunities because of the color of my skin or the economic bracket will fell in to. We may not be wealthy, but my mom was always able to make things happen. 

I take this privilege with me into the classroom. I will say, for the most part, my students do have opportunities many do not. Our school receives the proper funding to go on field trips, and we are able to provide our students with the items necessary to be successful in school. My school is not located in a low economic area. I do, however, teach many students of color, and I teach a large population of young African American males. And every time I hear about something on the news I think, "How am I going to talk about this with my boys?" 

I was called racist 3 times last year, and it shook me to the core. In all 3 of these instances it was because I had to call home over a disciplinary issue. Jason Reynolds, an author/activist spoke this weekend about a teacher who made an impact on him. He said she was strict and that he called her a racist when she really wasn't. I often think, "if only these parents knew how many tears I shed over their boys. I see their sons on a daily basis, and in some ways, they're my boys, too." It takes me swallowing a big slice of humble pie and realizing that in calling me racist, some of these parents think they're protecting their sons. 

The truth is, I am a white, middle class female. Yes, there are ways in which I am not privileged simply because I am a female, but there are so many ways in which I am. I stay off of social media posts about race because I often think about what I can add to the discussion. I don't know that fear. I've never walked in those shoes. However, as a Language Arts teacher, I am in a position of privilege to have discussions with my students. We all will have to acknowledge the fact that I'm certainly not the end all be all, but just because I haven't lived these experiences doesn't mean that I can't be a facilitator of a discussion. 

By nature, I am a feeler. I very much feel other people's emotions and I bring them home with me. This adds even more to my ability to tune out the ugly in this world. I'm reading a book right now called Copper Son by Sharon Draper about a young girl who is torn from her village in Africa to become a slave in pre-revolutionary America. I have cringed. I have cried. This is someone's history, and it could very well be the history of many of the faces I see each morning. 

After this weekend, I feel so burdened for the world, especially for my kiddos. You see, we don't talk about it a whole lot, but teachers, we love fiercely. We would not survive in this profession if it weren't for the students in our classrooms. Sometimes that's all that gets us up in the morning. 

If I want to be an excellent educator, I cannot hide behind my privilege. I must talk about it, and talk about ways my students can change this world for the better. My classroom holds the unwritten history of America, and I cannot sit idly by and stay comfortable. 

I have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. Whether that means reading articles, listening to the news, or having conversations. I must answer the call.