It Really Is Lonely At The Top…

The Seniority List.

Our school district’s seniority list used to hold far greater weight when a teacher’s years of service granted him/her the coveted position that was posted or when the list was referenced in the dreaded lay-off process during the lean years of shrinking education budgets. However, times have changed and laws were passed, rendering the seniority list practically useless and nothing more than a curiosity. That said, it’s still a “badge of honor” to be at the top of the heap. And just this spring, I became the star of the list. After the upcoming retirements, I will move all the way to the #1 slot. I became the longest serving educator on our staff. This fact makes me both proud and more than a little sad.

Sad because I really should not be at the top of our seniority list having just reached thirty years of service. When I started teaching, teachers often stayed well beyond their thirtieth year. No one was marking off the days on a calendar, waiting for the exact moment they could be released from the work they loved. No, years ago many teachers stayed well beyond year thirty because they were generally revered and celebrated as experts in their field. Young teachers, like me, looked to these master teachers for advice and approval. Not so much these days.

The goal, it would seem, for most young teachers is to quickly find a post outside of the classroom as an instructional coach or a consultant. For this reason, new teachers no longer look to the veteran classroom teacher. Instead, they latch on to the administrative staff who will catapult them out of the classroom. The sooner the better. The prized posts are those that involve carrying around an ipad to document walk-through visits, analyzing data in a quiet boardroom, and generating additional forms and hyperlinked documents for the haggard teaching staff to review and complete. So now the majority of teachers abandon their hope of having status or recognition as just a teacher. Instead, most of my colleagues quietly bow out as soon as their pensions allow. This makes me sad and more than a little lonely as one by one my friends, true professionals who have a gift for working with children, step away from educating.

Despite these feelings of loss that linger, I do also feel a sense of pride in being the employee in the top slot. I’ve weathered the ups and down of my own life and those of my school district. Despite my own personal struggles, including infertility, divorce, and a massive stroke, I have persevered and stayed the course, keeping my teaching work as a priority. For 30 years I’ve set an alarm for 5:45 a.m. and I’ve shown up for kids and my colleagues even when the going got tough. And, boy, did it get tough. We’ve had principals who admitted, “I’m not about relationships and I don’t like to be in the limelight.” Huh? And another principal was arrested and actually served time in prison. Our school family has mourned the loss of students to jet ski accidents, house fires, car crashes and suicide. We’ve stood beside colleagues who struggled through illness, addiction, and mental breakdowns.

Curriculum disasters have also loomed large. I’ve watched as the teaming approach was abandoned and the English classes were reduced to half of their class time. I’ve witnessed the fervor escalate over standardized testing to the point of nearly annihilating students’ joy for learning. Oh, how I could prattle on and on about the difficulties and disappointments witnessed in a 30 year career. But that’s not the point.

The point is just this– I stayed. And for that I’m proud. I’m honored to be a part of this sweet small town and privileged to be an important memory in so many children’s lives. Through all the ups and downs, I stayed. And, in the end, I’m glad I did.

Even if now, it’s a little bit lonely.