About the Author: Madison is an educator and writer who teaches at a public alternative school for students with severe behavior and mental health concerns. She is passionate about equity in education and serving disadvantaged students, which are often at the center of her writing.
See her writing portfolio here: https://missmwoodward.wixsite.com/home
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When I applied to teach at my current school, I knew it would be a different environment. I was looking for a position that would be more rewarding and give me the opportunity to serve students with higher needs. I remember when I arrived for my interview, I was shocked at how tiny the campus was – not even 10 portables in a horseshoe shape around a patch of overgrown grass and two basketball courts with chain nets. My own high school was a half mile from one side of the building to the other, and had 4,000 students in the building every day. The principal pulled me into his office and laid it all out for me – explaining what exactly this school was like. At the end, I told him he sounded like he was trying to scare me off, but I told him this is exactly what I was looking for. To be honest, when I showed up to that interview, I knew I wanted to work at a Title I school but I did not necessarily know yet if this school was the right fit for me. Ironically as the principal told me these off the wall experiences that happen at the school, all I felt was a fire in my belly growing bigger. It was like the universe led to me to stumble into this place so I could discover my passion. Before I researched and interviewed at this school, I had very little understanding of what alternative education was. However, it has turned me into an advocate – I love my students endlessly and I fight for them every opportunity I get.
I teach at a high-needs public alternative school near Phoenix, Arizona. More specifically, I teach students who have house arrest trackers on their ankles and/or parole officers, many students with undiagnosed academic deficiencies or mental health concerns, and every student sent to my school has been kicked out of their previous school for an extreme behavior issue. I have had a student tell me they stabbed someone at their old school, and I had another student tell me at the age of six their mother used to lock them in the closet for hours without food, water, or light. Honestly, sometimes other schools in the district use our school as a dumping ground for the kids they don’t want to deal with. In a school of only 60 high schoolers, it is not uncommon to have 30% with IEPs and you may have a class period where more than half require accommodations. It is a heartbreaking reality that some of our students are treated this way, and my small underfunded school exhausts every resource to provide the most equitable education we can. This is the type of place that people will sometimes apply to be a teacher and realize in the interview they have wasted their time or just walk out. You have to really want to teach at a school like this because you will be cussed out, threatened, and students will test you in ways you never knew possible.
The thing about my students is when they show up, that’s a big win. I have had students who ran away from home and no one knew where they were for weeks at a time. I had a student who told me they were kicked out a couple of years prior and slept on the streets for more than six months before they were allowed back into their home. I have heard stories of students overdosing on campus, so far in my time there we have only had one scare, but it is something we watch out for. All students wear uniforms and are searched before they enter campus, so they try to find new and innovative ways to sneak weed and vapes onto school grounds. I have students with incarcerated parents, many live in poverty, their parents or guardians are rarely home because they are always working to make ends meet, and very few of the adults in their life have gone on to higher education. At the beginning of the year, I have all my students draw a Life Map that shows me major events in their life. I have learned of unimaginable abuse, addiction plaguing their families, past suicide attempts, crimes or violence they have committed, etc. just on the first day meeting them. They come from and continue to endure incredible trauma (sometimes including at the hands of our education system) and overcome it every single day they wake up. So, when I say them showing up to school at all is a big win, I mean that they have every reason to turn away from education and give up.
My school works tirelessly to build community on campus and establish positive relationships between all staff and students. This goes far beyond being a school that uses PBIS – that barely scratches the surface. At the start of the school year every teacher introduces themselves to the entire school and talks about why they love working there. We do whole- school meetings at least once a month to give awards, talk about field trips or events, and again try to establish community. We spend the first month of school intensely going over the rules and expectations for students and make sure we handle students who test the boundaries. There are murals painted on our portables to make the campus look more inviting. We have a garden that students built and help maintain throughout the year. Every Friday, students who have demonstrated good behavior get to participate in a club during regular school hours. We get to take our students on many field trips, host movie days, and do contests and events that are seasonal (Valentine’s bake sale, Halloween themed booths, Holiday games, etc.). Most importantly, teachers work really hard to build rapport with students and earn their trust. Our school has a revolving door, kids are constantly coming in and sometimes leaving for good - and as teachers, we have to quickly make them feel part of the community. Educator and TED Talk presenter Rita Pierson says kids do not learn from teachers they do not like; well, marginalized kids will not learn from you if they do not trust you.
I think it is clear you never know what you are going to get on any given day at my job, and quarantine has been no different. My students are warriors, and the battles only got bloodier when schools closed. Many of my students had no internet or devices to do online work when this began, and my school did its best to provide them with what they needed. I have students who are working overtime in food delivery to help make ends meet for their family. I know at least three students that have run away, and at least two who have officially dropped out since our school closed. I spend my days trying to communicate with students and families and rarely hear back from any of them – less than a third of my students have completed any online work at all. There is this saying in teaching regarding how taxing a regular day can be: “I am teacher tired!” Well now the following seems more appropriate: “I am emotionally exhausted distance instructing during pandemic teacher tired!”
Teachers were thrown into an ever evolving and crazy situation when schools closed. I know teachers who had as little as one day to prepare distance learning for students, and some who have been expected to submit proof to their supervisors that they are still working. Make no mistake, every teacher in America has been working. Some have been working more than they ever did in person, and some may be working a bit less but that is because they are not making copies, covering teachers who do not have a sub, not having to do duty, or the millions of other tasks we get dragged into. Despite all of this, teachers have tried their best to make it work. I am a part of teacher groups on social media which have been flooded with emotional teachers begging for innovative ways to engage their kids or advice on how to stay positive when everything has fallen apart. For me, my workload has honestly been nice due to the teacher- centered decisions my principal made when schools first closed. However, quarantine has been more emotionally draining than teaching in person ever was. Can you believe that? Quarantine teaching is more emotionally draining than being cussed out in 1 st hour, finding out the student you finally got on track ran away in 3rd hour, and learning your favorite student was suspended for ten days in 4th hour!
There’s a joke in teaching that being in a room of students can sometimes be like herding feral cats. For me, teaching during this pandemic has been like trying to herd feral cats with a blindfold on: I know they are out there, I know where I am supposed to lead them, but I cannot seem to actually get ahold of any of them. I have sent countless emails to families and students often with no response. Or I do get a response but then I still do not receive work from them. I have the cell phone numbers of many of my students because texting is the only way I can get them to answer me. It is incredibly frustrating as a teacher to put so much work into building those relationships, teach all year, and constantly reach out during distance learning and have nothing to show for it. Believe me, I absolutely understand why many of my students are not engaging. School is not their top priority right now, and honestly, given their situations it absolutely shouldn’t be. But ever since this remote teaching started, I have been counting down the days to summer. Not because I do not want to teach or work with my kids, but because this experience has left me pouring everything I have out, but this time nothing is filling me back up.
While I am exhausted and I yearn for the end of the school year when I can officially breathe out, I know I sit in a place of privilege. My students are the victims of this experience and not because they will miss graduation and prom or because they didn’t learn as much as they would have in person… Those things mean practically nothing to my students in the grand scheme of things. They are the victims because 99% of my students get free or reduced breakfast and lunch at my school. They are the victims because we had such a high need for more food- related support that we implemented a campus food pantry for families, which halted when schools closed. They are the victims because my school, the same place people look at and scoff because it is only portables and a small patch of overgrown grass, is the only safe place many of my students know. They are the victims because some of my students who never imagined they would even finish high school, are applying to community college and asking me if they will ever get to step foot on a campus. They are the victims because we spent all year building this beautiful community and getting them to believe that they could trust us, just to rip it away from them without a 24-hour notice. And make no mistake, the fallout of this will mark them far longer than it will mark students from comprehensive high schools and safe and loving homes.
I want everyone to know that these students exist: students from broken homes, experiencing unbelievable poverty, overcoming trauma daily; they are entirely marginalized - and they have always been the ones forgotten and they continue to be forgotten during quarantine. Politicians and decision makers do not know my students. They do not know their struggle, their trauma, their incredible resiliency. They know nothing of what it means to fight against all odds, and still lose. They have no idea what it truly means to be a marginalized student in America. These students are the reason I get out of bed in the morning and can’t sleep through the night. When the school year ends, I will breathe a sigh of relief, but the burden will not be lifted. I will never forget the students we lost to the pandemic, even if they are still alive.