A teacher's confession
’I’m like a front-line soldier’
Not-so-glamourous aspects of the noble profession interestingly detailed by a stressed out teacher.
Mar 18, 2008

A Day At Work
I feel tired and worn out. Every single bloody day! On the way to school, I take out my hand-phone. There is still ample time to call in sick. I open up my hand-phone and pull out my school's number.

All that separates me from making that call is just a press of a button that requires a force of around 1 Newton. And I surprise myself by being able to resist that temptation, even though I know that at least three colleagues who will make that morning call.

We all take turns to call in sick, and I already had met my quota. Yes, I am rationing my sick leave. Sometimes, I am really sick. On other occasions, I need the time to mark the huge pile of homework and exam scripts and I don't wish to be bothered by unimportant things.

The smart way to shrug off the distractions is simply to not go to school at all and stay at home to mark. Yet, on other occasions, I need the sick leave to simply take a break.

I am like a soldier on the front-line, and I am rationing my sick leave the same way the soldier rations his precious alcohol to fight off the stresses of flying bullets and falling bombs.

It is not even that close to 7 am yet, and I already seated at my cubicle, working away furiously. School starts at 7.30 am, and every minute before the morning assembly is precious.

Even a 10-minute working period before morning assembly can seem like an hour of productive work if used appropriately. In those precious minutes before school starts, I managed to finish grading an entire class' worth of test scripts. On normal occasions, it would take me over an hour to do so.

Morning assembly. I am standing with my students, day-dreaming. Who the hell listens to the daily morning assembly, which usually has at least 4 to 5 key messages? By the time I listen to their conclusion, I have already forgotten the speech's introduction.

The only comfort of the morning assembly is saying 'hi' to my form class, Class Endeavour. We wave happily to each other whenever I walk down and take roll-call.

The mad rush begins. I now move from class to class, with very little break. The first lesson is Math. I heave a sigh of relief for it is one of my better-behaved class.

The girls are friendly, and are willing to learn. And because I enjoy their company, I spend more effort in teaching them. I go into the details. It also helps that I have taught this topic a couple of times over the years, so lesson preparation is minimal.

"Here, Sir, have a cookie. I baked it myself," one of the students said, as she opened up her tupperware.

"Hmm....eating during lessons is forbidden. I am afraid I have to confiscate your food." I then reached into the tupperware and promptly confiscated one piece of cookie.

This would be evidence if I need to charge her with breaking the school rule. I decided to keep the evidence safely in my stomach.

"You don't have to set any goals for your Math. Let me now tell you that all of you will aim to get a distinction at the end of the year. There is nothing to discuss or negotiate."

I repeat this to the class nearly every lesson. I think I sound like a broken tape-recorder by now. Maybe they think I am a bore. But I still think they need to be brain-washed into believing that they can get an 'A'.

Some lecturer of mine used to tell me that any propaganda, regardless how ridiculous it sounds, will be taken as the truth if it was repeated enough times.

The class leaves, and Class Resolve troops in. Class Resolve is the second of the Sec 3 Science class that I teach.

Most of the kids are nice, but there are a few jerks and those jerks usually have the ability to make an entire day go wrong. And the day started to go wrong when I asked the class to keep quiet.

To be precise, I zeroed in one of the biggest slackers; Carrie.

"Carrie, stop talking."

"What 'cher? I am not the only one talking what." She is so lazy that she can't even call me 'Teacher', but 'cher.

Class Resolve goes quiet. Carrie's tone has implied that she crossed the line. She glares at me like some bloody gangster. I glare back. I never forgot the time in the cinema when some gangster stuck his feet on the seat up front and all of us nearly pissed our pants in fright.

Over 70 of us were there, and no one had the guts to stand up to the bully. One of us probably had enough guts to write to the Straits Times to complain, when we are sure that the gangster had no way of tracking us down.

I glare at Carrie. I continued to glare at Carrie long after she had looked away as though she didn't have a care in the world.

At that moment, I stepped into a parallel world - a world that allows me to bash Carrie into a bloody pulp and still walk away free and with a big smile on my face.

I snapped out of my fantasy world after a few seconds. The lesson continued, but I was already tired and annoyed.

When the bell rang, I waved the class away, an indication that they should just pack up and go. It also meant they should go quick, and not waste time with even a 'Thank You'. Just get out of my sight as quickly as possible.

What saved the lesson were a handful of girls who came up and said 'Thank You' personally for the lesson.

'Ignore Carrie,' Christina said. 'She's like that in every class.' Christina's tone implied that most of the class was pissed with Carrie.

It was now time for recess. It is a time of break for students. But for me, it was a time for lesson preparation. It was now past 10 O'clock, and I had been on my feet the whole morning.

There are more lessons after recess. I crossed my heart, for I would have to deal with Class Dead-Beat for two whole periods. I recited the simple prayer that soldiers of old used to pray when about to face an overwhelming attack - for what we are about to receive.

The recess is not a time for me to take a break, other than a trip to the washroom. I used that precious time to read through and prepare the lesson for Class Dead Beat, and to print out the lesson notes.

I have learnt that my students generally are close to near-illiterate when it comes to reading Science literature. So, the notes have to be really simple, and each paragraph should not have more than two to three sentences.

I am now back in my cubicle, relishing in the last few minutes before the lessons start again.

"Did you check your email?" colleague Keith asks, as he returns to the staff room after his own lesson.

"I haven't the time," I said.

"We all need to meet up with the Head of CCAs. You need to fix an appointment."

I curse under my breath. I have enough things to do, and meeting a Head for a meeting that isn't considered part of a formal work review was nothing but a waste of time.

I decided to classify this under 'Not Important'. I would wait for the Head to chase after me before taking further action to meet up.

It is now back to class with Class Dead Beat. They usually don't have the ability to concentrate for a full two periods, so most of my lessons with them don't run for more than 1.5 periods.

Even so, a big part of the time is spent on solving problems and tackling exam questions on the topic being taught. We normally finish the lesson 10-15 minutes before the bell.

The students slump on their table and start to indulge in their favourite activity - sleeping. I take my time to shut down the computer, and pack up. My energy is sapped completely. Before we even know it, it is now close to the lunch period for most working adults.

I don't have a bloody lunch break. The next two periods are spent at the hall with my form class, listening to some speech about moral values. I am tired and hungry and thirsty.

I am as useful as a fish to a bicycle during this session. I wish to disappear and take a break, but protocol insists that I stay in the hall. So, I stayed, and I spent that two periods sleeping with my eyes open.

Most of us teachers used to spent those two periods marking homework. That practice ended when one of the speakers complained that us teachers were not showing them basic respect by marking scripts when they are talking.

If even the teachers can't be bothered to listen, why would the students want to listen? So, we now all have to listen.

School officially ends for the day for the students shortly. But it is not over for us teachers. We have a meeting to attend, and we need a meeting because the school term is coming to an end in a couple of days, and there is a lot of administrative work to be done. Meeting starts in around 40 minutes time.

Time seems to fly during this forty minutes. There is a crush of students outside the Staff room waiting to see teachers. I have seen larger crowds of fans pushing harder at the barricades wishing for a glimpse of their favourite singers.

I can't eat my lunch in peace, for I have to meet students, compile namelists of students for some competition and sort out the different piles of homework that I have collected during the day.

I am irritated. And I am irritated enough to intentionally use a document marked 'important' as a table-spoiler for my packet of food.

It is now past 3 pm. Meeting has started some time earlier, and picking up speed. Meeting agendas are notoriously inaccurate, just like students who plot swiggly curves for a simple quadratic graph.

Teachers are forever adding to the agenda, asking stupid questions so that they can be heard or are not speaking straight to the point. Meetings take forever to end because some idiot wants to seek personal attention and appear important.

Most of us are tired out and want to go home. Some of us, like yours truly, is exhausted. My eyelids are heavy, and my thirst can't seem to be quenched, not even after three cups of tea. I try my best to look awake.

Occasionally, I take toilet breaks. I need to, because we apparently don't believe in having toilet breaks for meetings that can stretch for over three hours.

We also believe that teachers have this ability to pay attention for three hours non-stop. Some other colleagues make themselves more at home. They sleep openly during meetings.

A few, usually Math teachers, will try to make a point by ignoring the entire meeting and focus their energy on marking their scripts.

It is now past 4pm. I have spent around 10 hours at work, and I haven't had an official lunch break. For most office workers, ten hours at work would mean starting work at 8.30am and leaving the office for the day by 7.30pm, after factoring a one-hour lunch break.

4pm is considered early by our standards, and hell would freeze over sooner than our meeting ending by 430pm. The meeting drags well over 5pm till it is finally finished, after at least "3 finallys".

You can imagine how the word "final" is abused during our meetings. I plead guilty. I have abused it during class too. "One final thing before I end" is not really one final thing. What goes around comes around. Now, it is my time to pay.

Meeting is over. It is close to 6pm. There is still admin work to do. At the general office, the clerk reminds me of some data that I have yet to send in.

I have documents to photo-copy and pass to colleagues. I am in a daze. My mind has shut down. I nod my head and say yes to the clerk, even though I have absolutely no intention of co-operating for this day. My only intention is to get the hell out of the school before it is dark.

I finally leave the school while the sun is setting. But the school is still deep in my mind. A colleague has reminded me to get ready for a sharing session with the staff. I am in charge.

There is unmarked homework, and there are lessons that I have yet to plan for. The thought of spending my evening doing more work made me flash a middle-finger. I hope no one saw that.

There is so much still to be done. An inner voice screams at me to start after dinner. A nicer sounding voice asks me to take a shower, and then start after 9pm? I thought I must be crazy to even listen to either options. I flash both middle fingers now.

I am tired and worn out. And I feel this way every day. There is still family life after work, and the challenges of facing the family starts as people start to stream home, feeling sapped and dejected after yet another long day at work.

Tempers are waiting to flare, but we endure. It seems that there isn't any way to get out of this cycle.

A part of me tells me to spend the evening at home, moping in front of the telly, feeling tired and sorry for myself. Another part tells me that I should go out, breath some fresh air and exercise. I decide to exercise.

There is a lot of unfinished work still. And the only solution I have is to wake up even earlier the next day, so that I have even more time before morning assembly to get part of the work done.

Maybe there is a need to ration the homework, so that the pile of unmarked homework doesn't get too high. Part of the Saturday mornings is also blocked out for marking of homework.

The small hand on the alarm clock has been shifted yet again. There is a need to wake up even earlier the next day.

I would probably wake up, feeling tired from insufficient sleep, and the temptation to call in sick will hang around me like an enticing beautiful woman. And so the cycle of work continues....
Posted by stressed_teacher.

Comments:
non said...
I empathise. I think the frustration culminates at the meetings. They drag on and on ad nauseam and most of the time, most of the agenda doesn't concern everyone.
Either that or they consist of useless things like reviews of programmes that were carried out and no one really cares about the reviews anyway. In the end, we'll just put something politically correct down so we can get over and done with the entire affair.

monkey said...
That is my day in full with a few little things changed, and as much as you get these days where you feel worn out and completely drained there are the days that prove to you that it was the right choice to go in to teaching.
I’ve had a bitch of a day with the meeting to go with it.
I have to admit though I don’t help to make meetings shorter as I always have something to say.
My routine is to come home get any little bits done and then have a glass of red. This is called my switch I turn of there and then and I don’t turn back on until my alarm clock goes.
Great piece of writing, teaching over the water sounds similar to here in the UK.

Miss Loi said...
In a perfectly honest world, this "A Day in the Life of a Singaporean Teacher" post of yours would be printed at the back of every teaching recruitment flyer.

Jaden said...
First off, I would like to say that your day sounds like a journey through the lower levels of purgatory.
It also reads like the back scenes or a prequel to those oh-so-happy-and-fulfilling scenes that one sees in those typical recruitment ads for teachers. As we all know, the real story lies backstage, everything else is a lie.
You deserve kudos for staying true to your choice of being in the teaching profession. But one also wonders as to the amount of energy reserves you have back there.
Bits of irritation and resentment resound through your blog post and it is a worrying symptom. Everyone of us has a breaking point and you are definitely storing up enough bricks on your back to reach that final snap someday.
Do look into a career alternative. Easier said than done, I know.
I don't like where I am currently either. But I do have a happy environment to look forward to at the end of the day to keep me going. Whenever more shit is shoveled my way, I roll my eyes and mentally screw up a picture of my boyfriend waiting at home with a hot meal and a hug from my dog to keep me going.
Life's too short to abuse yourself by forcing yourself to go to work. It may be a cliche but you should enjoy what you do to a certain extent.

Wolfie said...
Jaden, if the only thing that decides whether teachers stay or quit is the workload, I think 70% will be gone tomorrow.
For most of us, we just bear with it until the next long break comes. I myself feel tired going to school everyday, work till I sleep during weekdays, and have to resist the urge of taking MCs sometimes.
School management is often so incompetent that it drains all passion from the teachers.

http://stressed-teacher.blogspot.com/2008/03/day-at-work.html