Teacher Shortage: Part 2

Photo by Kat Smith

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Children are the most oppressed people group in the world.

They are more likely to die of starvation and malnourishment.

They are more likely to be abused sexually, emotionally and physically.

They are more likely to die from disease and illness.

They live in a world where everyone is bigger than they are, and they have the fewest rights of anyone.

It is terrifying to be a child.

The worst things that ever happen to people, happen likely in childhood.

Then they visit psychiatrists as an adult to sort it all out.

Or, worse, they never sort it out.

As a teacher, multiple times a day I was on the floor in the hallway helping a child breathe through their anxiety attacks.

“You have to go to P.E. It is state mandated. You cannot come with me.”

“Please. PLEASE don’t make me go.”

This child grips me, hugs me like I am a life raft in the middle of the ocean.

I meet their tear filled eyes. Soon, admin is gripping them by the arms and leading them to a place called, “The Promise Room.” A place designated for children to calm down and return to class.

This room, at least in the elementary school I served in, also happens to be the place where students serve for In School Suspension.

And then they wonder why students don’t enjoy taking a visit there. The unsaid message is interpreted loud and clear.

“Here’s where you’ll end up if you can’t pull yourself together.”

My students’ behavior was tough to handle. Children climbed in my cabinets and cried. I wasn’t allowed to touch them to get them out.

They hid under desks and cried. They felt overwhelmed.

My attempts to reach out for help were cast aside. My principal gave me a class management book in response.

The same one. Twice.

They gave one copy to my mentor to give to me and then the same one again after a private meeting.

I read the book.

What I mainly got from it was this: “It’s not enough that you’ve donated your kidney to ‘save’ these kids, we also require you to donate your right lung or you’re simply not doing it right.”

The response to my cries for help was there was something wrong with ME.

The day my principal gave me that same book the second time is the day I typed up my resignation letter.

But the book was a secondary issue. My main reason for quitting a couple weeks before the December holidays had to do with the idea of brain breaks.

Brain breaks are used in elementary school to give children a breather between lessons.

You can look them up on YouTube if you’re curious. I’d play a couple for my students between lessons and they loved them.

The issue was, my classroom was incredibly small and my ratio of boys to girls was 3 to 1.

My students couldn’t handle it. Suddenly there was play fighting and then real fighting.

“They just have so much energy! Do you know how many of my students are medicated for ADHD?”

“I know.” A fellow teacher nods.

“How do they expect me to do a 3 and a half hour block of lessons?!” I throw my head back in frustration and petition the sky for patience. “I can’t even sit still that long.”

I’d reached out for help on multiple occasions, being sure to document my pleas for help.

No one was coming to help.

I decided to be creative.

The playground was empty in the mornings. What if I gave them 15 minutes of playtime in the morning before our lessons began… and then another 10 minute break for snack time after our first lesson to get up and socialize in the classroom?

I looked at the research. Kids with ADHD performed better with more physical activity in the day. For them to be able to learn, they needed to be able to expend that excess energy.

Plus, this particular group of Florida third graders started school the year Hurricane Michael hit on October 2018. Then they went straight from losing their homes and living in tents to a global pandemic.

They went through all of this during crucial developmental years where social skills are taught as a part of the curriculum.

They couldn’t get along with one another nor did they know how to behave and function in a learning environment.

They never had the chance to PLAY. They never had the chance to learn those necessary social skills.

Think about it. After Category 5 Hurricane Michael, their entire world was destroyed. It was literally unsafe to play outside. There were nails and loose wires and broken trees and looters roaming neighborhoods stealing from their families or their neighbors.

These children slept in homes without roofs. They went to broken schools in moldy smelling clothing. They watched their families fall apart due to stress and lived in a community collectively experiencing PTSD.

And worse.

I will not share the stories that would haunt your sleep.

They couldn’t be kids.

They couldn’t PLAY.

And then, as if that’s not horrific enough, they were IMMEDIATELY shuffled into a global pandemic where they were ONCE AGAIN not allowed to play with their friends, form meaningful connections, learn invaluable social skills and… you guessed it… GO OUTSIDE.

For YEARS in CRUCIAL DEVELOPMENTAL STAGES, these children could not play.

No wonder they were acting like this.

So, since the Cavalry was clearly not coming to save me or my students, I made my decision.

I informed the students I would never take their recess away as a punishment and we would be going outside an extra 15 minutes a day in the mornings.

IF they could work with me and promise me one simple thing: To simply try and complete their work and be kind to one another.

Little did I know how scandalous this decision would be on my part… and how impactful on my students.

Part 2/5

About Sandi MarLisa

Sandi MarLisa is a professional writer and musician in Panama City, Florida. She is co-founder of the band Jack and Gin, as well as author of three books, including her latest title Fire Flurries: Confessions of a Small Town Rockstar.

Learn more about her at her website: www.sandimarlisa.com.