Skip to main content

Quitting School

Good article on the forces that are driving the school bus driver shortage in America. Schools are hurting in a many different ways - there is also a school teacher shortage driven by some of the same forces. 

According to a June survey of 2,690 members of the National Education Association, 32% said the pandemic drove them to plan to leave the profession earlier than expected. Another survey by the RAND Corp. said the pandemic exacerbated attrition, burnout and stress on teachers, who were almost twice as likely as other employed adults to feel frequent job-related stress and almost three times more likely to experience depression.

The life of a school bus driver is no fun and the wages certainly don't make up for it. A teacher may get more satisfaction from their job in some circumstances but it may not be enough to compensate for all that is broken and dysfunctional. Things only got worse with the pandemic. My friends with school-age children tell me the classes are over-crowded because many teachers have quit and school is fully in-person. The kids are not adjusting well to returning to class full-time after remote learning for over a year - the older ones don't see why their physical presence is required and acting out their disengagement. None of this in addition to stress of the virus spreading around among unvaccinated kids is helping the worn-out teachers. 

In a child's mind, their home-room teacher is there forever - whatever their definition of that forever is. It provides and anchor and source of comfort. They grow attached to this person. In times of turbulence in their personal life, this teacher could be the one they go to for support. When these teachers come and go from their lives, the disruption goes well beyond education. The child begins to see that everything in the world as fickle and unreliable, diminishing their desire to persevere - who will be there to cheer them for trying and succeeding in the end.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Part Liberated Woman

An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t

Cheese Making

I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha

Under Advisement

Recently a desi dude who is more acquaintance less friend called to check in on me. Those who have read this blog before might know that such calls tend to make me anxious. Depending on how far back we go, there are sets of FAQs that I brace myself to answer. The trick is to be sufficiently evasive without being downright offensive - a fine balancing act given the provocative nature of questions involved. I look at these calls as opportunities for building patience and tolerance both of which I seriously lack. Basically, they are very desirous of finding out how I am doing in my personal and professional life to be sure that they have me correctly categorized and filed for future reference. The major buckets appear to be loser, struggling, average, arrived, superstar and uncategorizable. My goal needless to say, is to be in the last bucket - the unknown, unquantifiable and therefore uninteresting entity. Their aim is to pull me into something more tangible. So anyways, the dude in ques