In the end we pay the piper. There is always a price to pay. And we pay it. We have to. We’re teachers.

Teaching is a funny thing. And from the outside, it must seem an easy thing. We teach. They learn. We put in our 180 days. We take summers off. So the cycle goes. But a look inside may offer a different glimpse at the job and the price it exacts.

And while I do believe many may see through the outer shell, bearing an understanding of the challenges we daily face, I do not believe those without truly see what it is to teach.

Oh, I am not going to share a laundry list of the myriad challenges we face in our profession. I am not here to complain. No. Only explain. But it’s hard. It is no easy thing to describe the emotional toll teaching takes. But if I were to try, I would likely focus on the “on phenomenon” that is teaching.

Here’s what I mean to mean. I think one of the things that is neither fully seen nor fully understood is how exhausting it is to be “on” all the time. I liken it to five (or more) full theater performances per day as our adrenaline ebbs and flows with the passing of each period. And in each performance we play all parts imaginable: teacher, mentor, adult, friend, kid, parent, counselor, comedian, facilitator, role model, human, manager. The list goes on. And no performance is the same, an impossible impromptu show, stretching our emotional range and testing our technical expertise as the kids give rise, give life to the parts we play. And the play goes on. And on.

And then, at the end, when the last kid walks out the door, the piper comes to collect what’s left–even if there’s nothing left.

For years, even though my wife herself is a teacher and truly gets it, my family has found my exhaustion at the end of the day a little…well, maybe a little exaggerated, but that changed a bit this year. My son is in my class, and as such, he has “seen the inside” a little more closely, recently remarking,

“No wonder you’re so tired at the end of the day. You ‘bring it.'”

And as funny as this may sound, I found some relief in his understanding. He now better understands–hopefully accepts–why I may not have been the best after-school dad all these years. I was tired. I was empty. The piper took much. There was often little left for them. And there was rarely anything left for me.

Of course, I know–I know–this is not exclusive to me. This is every teacher. I am every teacher. Every teacher is me. So, please know that I am not suggesting I pay a higher price than others. I don’t. But I pay a price. We all do. And please know, too, I am not seeking sympathy. I love what I do, and though I have taken measures to better take care of myself and my family–leaving school at school, I can’t help doing what I do, and I suspect that true for all my colleagues, too. We are teachers. We pay a price. We always will.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…growing with grammar.

…comparing our lives to trees.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Happy Wednesday, all.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.