A Matter of Principals by Donna
This is our week on the blog to write something about our lives. The theme is "All About Me" and it's means our choice of topic is wide open.
I spent my whole professional career in schools --as a teacher, then a building principal, now a teacher of principals and teachers. The recent school shooting was horrifying in so many ways, and it reminded me of something I wrote many years ago at the end of one long week.
A Matter of Principals
Last week, I
was kicked, screamed at, bled on and bit all in the course of doing my
job. I'm not a doctor or a
policeman. I'm not even a professional
wrestler. I am a public school
administrator. I work in an elementary
school in a good neighborhood with parents that, for the most part, are very
concerned and involved with their children's education. But even the "good" schools are not
immune to the changing demands placed on our public schools today.
On Monday, I
told a teacher to lock herself in her classroom with twenty two
four-year-olds. One of those
four-year-olds was wearing the marks of an abusive parent - a parent that was
on his way up to the school. I stood
outside that locked door, between that large, angry man and those children, and
prayed. Prayed he didn't have a gun. Prayed he wasn't going to hit me. Prayed I would be brave. I never thought my profession as an educator
might one day cost me my life. I thought
about it a lot last Monday.
On Tuesday, I
listened to parents. Bobby Miller's
parents said the teacher doesn't understand him - he's not meeting Bobby's
needs. Bobby is attention deficit and
that's why he knocked out Suzy Johnson's two front teeth.
Martha Wilson's parents said the teacher
doesn't understand her either - she's not meeting Martha's
needs. Martha's gifted and that's why she ate all the tape residue off
the chalkboards. So many needs. How can
we possibly meet them all?
On Wednesday,
Joe Patterson busted his head open on the playground. Due to the budget cuts, we don't have a full
time nurse. I got there first. By the time I got him inside and calmed down,
I was covered in blood. The counselor
kept waving those plastic gloves in my face, but I couldn't stop. A child was hurt. I wasn't going to leave him to go inside for
plastic gloves. Later, I washed the blood
off my hands. It will never come out of
that white dress.
On Thursday,
Michael had a bad day. When Michael has
a bad day - we all have a bad day.
Michael was born addicted to crack.
He bit me three times on the way back to the office. No one taught me the right way to carry a
biting six year old out of a classroom so that others can learn. No one taught me about Michael.
On Friday, I
listened to teachers. I listened to them
teaching despite the distractions. I
listened to them worrying in the teacher's lounge over children they couldn't
reach. I listened to them cry in my
office over the stress of the job. I
listened. It was the least I could do.
On Saturday, I
yelled at someone I loved. He had no way
of knowing about Monday through Friday. He had no way of knowing it was not for him.
On Sunday, I
was back at school - working quietly in a deserted office. And when the work was finally done, I walked
those quiet halls on Sunday all alone.
I didn't think about being kicked, or screamed at, or bled on, or bit.
I thought about children - laughing children, reading children, learning
children. Children in a school where I'm
making a difference one day at a time.
But on Monday . . .
5 comments
Wow...what can I say. I'm speechless. And to think that people truly don't understand that school is meant to be a place of education and growth...not a place were educators and administrators have to fear for their lives, have parental accountabilities pushed off on them and then be okay with having very little to work with to help the children they're suddenly told to co-parent...
Okay, not so speechless after all. Speaking as a parent with a child in a public school, I thank you and all school administrators for sticking to it when the difficulties are ever present.
Teachers, school administrators, and staff: heroes.
I admire you so much for all you do for your kids. Thank you for this powerful post.
You brought tears to my eyes, Donna. Beautifully written thank you for this.
Thanks, everyone. I appreciate your comments so much.
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