Sunday was Teacher Appreciation Day at Dodger Stadium. So my family, full of educators, attended the game against the Cincinnati Reds in Chavez Ravine. (And my youngest son took home a foul ball hit by Shohei Ohtani, a souvenir that easily offsets the high price of a ticket.)
But my wife couldn't attend Teacher Appreciation Day. Because she is a teacher. And teachers usually work on Sundays.
Summer vacation is upon us, but there's no soft landing with school days left.
This personal irony clearly illustrates the peculiar way we treat teachers. On the one hand, his exalted status in society is unquestionable: politicians seek his support, surveys show Americans trust them more than most other classes of workers, and once a year the Dodgers offer paying fans a glass either sweater decorated with an apple in his honor.
On the other hand, there is a hidden reality that I have seen in 15 years of marriage with a teacher:
The 4am iPhone alarm goes off to resume lesson planning after passing out the night before from exhaustion. The endless writing of exams and grades. The heartbreaking feeling that if students tune out during a class or perform below expectations, it's the teacher's fault.
It is a work carried out, approximately in equal parts, inside and outside the classroom. Everyone envies what they see (the 8 am to 2:30 pm workday and summer vacations) without realizing the countless hours of mornings, afternoons and weekends they spend away from their own children to educate It seems easy to yours.
You don't have to marry a professor to understand the psychological consequences of all this. Although burnout affects workers in all professions, a 2022 Gallup poll found that hit the teachers harder. Research has shown teacher burnout. correlates with worse student outcomesand according to educational news site ChalkbeatStates that track turnover in schools (California is not one of them) have reported that educators are leaving the field at record rates in recent years.
I see symptoms of this disorder all the time, often in the annual soul-searching among teacher friends about whether they can endure another year of this. These people aren't there for summer vacations or museum discounts.
But most end up returning to the classroom, so it's worth asking: what sustains them? What makes them come back?
I have an idea, and although my sample size is small by research standards, it provides plenty of anecdotal evidence.
My wife and two of her sisters teach, her mother is a retired teacher, and her late grandfather worked in Los Angeles Unified when it was called the Los Angeles City School District. Jokes and acronyms from the world of education (my God, the endless acronyms) adorn our conversations.
And, of course, the teachers who read The Times (and sometimes even his students) write letters to the editor shedding light on the reality within their classrooms.
From all of this, here's what I've put together: For every defiant administrator or parent, there are at least 10 students who revere their teacher or at least act like they understand how much work goes into all of this. For many students, people like my wife and her sisters are among the most important adults in their lives: not exactly surrogate parents, but indispensable in a way that only trained, empathetic educators can be.
So the work itself may be rewarding, but material support from the rest of society (and not the kind of flashy, empty praise that is already given in abundance) falls short. Of course, we can pay teachers a lot more (because nothing freezes burnout better than a bigger paycheck), but for most districts that's a nonstarter, with California's budget shortfall estimated at $56 billion over the next few years. two fiscal years.
Here's another approach that may seem foreign: we can build a lot of homes and then build more. With a starting salary of about $60,000 a year, new teachers can forget about renting their own apartment in Los Angeles, much less living near their school. Subsisting on a young professor's salary could be feasible if we solved our housing shortage.
But these are long-term solutions. If you're interested in showing that you appreciate the work of teachers and understand their plight, here's some advice: Don't tell them how wonderful their lives must be because they're about to go on summer vacation.
