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:
- 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.
- 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,
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