Last week, NPR launched a story with this preface: “Starting any new job can be tough. Starting a new job as a teacher is brutal. Research shows that roughly 1 teacher out of 10 will quit by the end of the first year, and the toughest time for many is right now.”
The story, “Hey, New Teacher, Don’t Quit. It Will Get Better,” describes a punishing stretch of the school year with the mythical-sounding acronym – “DEVOLSON … which stands for Dark, Evil Vortex of Late September, October, and November… the time of the school year where teachers are the busiest, craziest, and, usually the saddest.”
We encourage you to listen to this poignant story as it names the special intensity of emotions and the grind of teaching that teachers experience during this relentlessly demanding time of year.
Ellen Moir, the Founder and Executive Director of the New Teacher Center, wrote a short and compelling article describing the “Phases of First-Year Teaching” that tracks the developmental pathway of teaching from anticipation, to survival, to disillusionment, to rejuvenation, to reflection; then back to anticipation. The time of year highlighted in this NPR piece depicts the disillusionment that all new teachers experience, which Moir describes as:
“After six to eight weeks of nonstop work and stress, new teachers enter the disillusionment phase. The intensity and length of the phase varies among new teachers. The extensive time commitment, the realization that things are probably not going as smoothly as they want, and low morale contribute to this period of disenchantment. New teachers begin questioning both their commitment and their competence. Many new teachers get sick during this phase.
Compounding an already difficult situation is the fact that new teachers are confronted with several new events during this time frame. They are faced with back-to-school night, parent conferences, and their first formal evaluation by the site administrator. Each of these important milestones places an already vulnerable individual in a very stressful situation.”
In our work with teachers, we heard deeply descriptive narratives of how teachers experienced and lived these phases. In Teaching with Heart, Rachel Fentin portrays her journey into DEVOLSON, “The first grinding months were overwhelming. I set aside the playfulness that had sustained me, thinking it was time to be serious. I became authoritarian and tried to create the perfect class with straight lines and silent students. I started to become “accustomed to the Dark.”
It wasn’t until she began to teach a unit on poetry and her favorite poet Emily Dickinson that things began to get better. She was able to see a place for “Dickinson-like playfulness and ambiguity” in her teaching. This opened up a whole new way of teaching and being with her students and greatly lightened her days. “It is enormously freeing to know that teaching is not about creating perfect little lives. It’s the imperfections and deviations that are captivating and valuable… my fourth graders understand how to embrace that. It’s a skill that is often lost that can be relearned. I try to remember that.”
See below for Rachel’s reflection and a link to Emily Dickinson’s poem. As you read them and listen to the NPR story, consider sharing your responses to the following questions:
In these tough, long days, of DEVOLSON, what helps you endure? How have colleagues or administrators helped you during this time of high demand and intensity?
An Antidote: Rachel Fentin’s Reflection on Emily Dickinson’s “We grow accustomed to the Dark–”
I fell hard for Emily Dickinson in college. Her teasing ambiguity drove many of my peers crazy, but I relished trying to crack the code, looking for the secret meaning. Reading her poetry was like playing a game with no rules.
As a first-year teacher, I often feel like I’m lost in a Dickinson poem. I know so little, and there is so much that is hard to decipher. The first grinding months were overwhelming. I set aside the playfulness that had sustained me, thinking it was time to be serious. I became authoritarian and tried to create a perfect class with straight lines and silent students. I started to become “accustomed to the Dark.”
It wasn’t until teaching a poetry unit that I began to see my way back to the light. I couldn’t help but be myself as we discussed poetry together. I wanted them to experience the delight of poetry, to taste the poems on their tongue. Suddenly, I could appreciate the place for Dickinson-like playfulness and ambiguity in my teaching. With a new focus on experimenting and exploring together, our crooked lines through the hall didn’t matter as much. It was all about where we were going together.
It is enormously freeing to know that teaching is not about creating perfect little lives; it’s the imperfections and deviations that are captivating and valuable, the instances of life stepping “almost straight.” My fourth graders understand how to embrace that. It’s a skill that is often lost, but that can be relearned. I try to remember that.
—Rachel Fentin,
Elementary School Teacher
Detroit, Michigan
photo credit: 79/365-longday via photopin (license)
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