My last two weeks nearly rival the despair, anxiety, and confusion of the final years of my medical odyssey to find a diagnosis. Nothing will likely top the desperation that I felt when I knew something was wrong, but no doctor could find a cause. Yet, the previous fortnight has tried like heck to compete. I share that at the start of this post as a disclaimer – this entry has little to no joy and a lot of pain. I would love to say it has been my worst two weeks that have nothing to do with narcolepsy, but in the end everything in my life connects to narcolepsy.
As hard as life has been in trying to live with this condition, one area that has brought me tremendous strength has been my teaching team. The two teachers with whom I work have made the last two years amazing – professionally and personally. I truly believe that we create magic in our classroom by engaging and empowering our students in meaningful and thoughtful ways. Sadly, unbelievably, horribly that will not be the case next year. Both of my co-teachers have been pressured and forced into teaching something else next year. Although both of them would prefer to remain with me in our current course, they have been cajoled and forced into a place that they believe that moving to the other course is the only option. Simply watching them wrangle with their emotions around this decision has been awful, but I also know that my own turmoil will be far worse. Although no “official” decision has taken place yet, my co-teacher from our Social Studies Department has notified his colleagues that someone needs to fill the two sections of our course that he had been teaching. My colleague who has been the religion teacher in our class does not need to send an email because another religion teacher already wants to take the spot. Fortunately, that other religion teacher has taught this interdisciplinary ninth grade course before. The same may not be true of the social studies teacher we get. In fact most of the department does not want to teach in interdisciplinary settings, which is part of the reason that my current teaching companions were stripped from me.
More mind-boggling than stealing me amazing colleagues from me, though, is the fact that NO ONE (other than my co-teachers) has spoken to me about this situation. The only reason that I know this is happening is my co-teachers has been open and honest with me throughout this nightmare. At the start of the school year a discussion took place in each of our three departments (English, religion, and social studies). A senior interdisciplinary course focusing on social justice would eventually be looking for new staff members because one of the two teachers who had done it for 20 years was starting to move toward retirement – ironically, the English teacher. The idea was to let your department chair know if you would be interested in the course in the next 3-5 years. Although a few members of my department notified our chair that they would be interested, my two co-teachers were the only religion and only social studies teacher to express interest. As a result of that, the courting of my co-teacher from religion began in December. Soon after that, it became apparent that the senior course needed a social studies teacher for next year. Numerous discussions began taking place, and even though my colleagues repeatedly stated that they wanted to teach with me for the coming school year, circumstances seemed to dictate that they had to move to the other course. Thus, their casual expression of interest in this course for the future suddenly became an immediate shift happening now. It is entirely possibly that the only person remaining on that senior course’s team from previous years will be the English teacher who is supposed to be moving toward retirement (hence the irony).
So, while my two amazing co-teachers unwillingly move to a new course, I am left holding the bag for this ninth grade class. Again, the likely incoming religion teacher has done the course for many years, and I have no doubt that I can work with her. I am more worried about establishing some level of team rapport when there is likely to be some strenuous arm-twisting to get the social studies teacher even into the room. I also remain appalled that nearly everything is set to pull my two co-teachers away from me, and I have yet to have a conversation with my administrators. Because my current team has evolved some excellent elements to this course, I definitely want to see them stay, but that puts me into a leadership role that may or may not be possible. My health aside, I work part-time at the school, making it difficult to give guidance to students and my new co-teachers during morning study sessions. Plus, the reason for my part-time status is my health. And, it has not been great this year with a team that I trust and is capable of picking up my slack. How it will go next year with new team members who are relying on me for leadership is anyone’s guess. Although I have minimized my sick days in the last few years, they do still happen – far more frequently when I feel compelled to do “more” and push myself to hard. Yet, I will have a more difficult time opting to make the wise decision of resting my body when I am the guiding curricular presence in the classroom next year.
At one level it is that reality that eats at me the most. I am a person with a disability. I have numerous gifts and talents, but my narcolepsy limits me. Many moments of doubt about continuing in my job had been surfacing for me even before this current nightmare arose because even my limited schedule has been wearing me down. I honestly do not know if I can lead this new team, and yet that will be the expectation. The fact that I have not been consulted at all in this process of dismantling my team would be unprofessional even if I were fully healthy, but the fact that I am a person with a disability makes it unethical. Beyond the possibilities of it over taxing my system and dismissing my worth, I have no clue how accepting my new team members will be of my condition. When my current team first learned that we would be teaching together, we spent one lunch period each week eating together to share our thoughts, goals, concerns, and dreams (professional and personal) simply as a way to get to know one another. We also met extensively throughout the summer, both to plan and to deepen our understandings of each other. Even with all of that, we still need to pause at times to check-in and to apologize to one another. As a result of those efforts, I know (even when I doubt my worth) that my colleagues respect me and understand when my narcolepsy drags me under and keeps me from getting all of my work done. It is a gift that I have never taken for granted, but one that I will sorely miss as I attempt to find those connections with my new team.
It also angers me that I do not have the opportunities to start getting to know my new team in the same way that I did my current team. One reason is that everyone in the building knew for months that a change would be taking place in one of the ninth grade teams when I opted to become the English teacher. My current team had weeks before the start of trimester three to decide to use one day a week for a team lunch. In this current situation, we are already two weeks into the third trimester, and people in the Social Studies Department are just beginning to contemplate if they want to teach this ninth grade course. The lunch possibility is also out because I need that time to recover most days from our first class. Plus, the nature of this course and the energy that my entire current team puts into it daily often means I have nothing left to do “future” planning. Even the possibility of summer planning is diminished. Our school has a number of strategic planning meetings this summer that might pull one of my new co-teachers away from planning time for our team. And, my wife has planned a summer trip for us for the first time in a few years because I finally did NOT need to use much of my summer for curriculum planning (my current team has spent the last two summers meeting extensively, so we all agreed that this summer would be light on team meetings – oops).
The last frustration I will share today is that I don’t even feel like I can grieve, or at least grieve properly. At one level I know I have been blessed to have this current team for two years. Both of my co-teachers are amazing, and the opportunity to teach with them will likely be the pinnacle of my career. Nothing is ever the same from year to year in education, but a shift like the one I face is colossal. Rather than experiencing sadness each time I watch my current colleagues do something, I want to appreciate it for how amazing it is. I also find it hard to release my emotions because the magnitude of my turmoil could completely derail me, which I cannot afford if I have any hope actually doing my job and being present for my wife and daughter. I am struggling mightily as it is. I shudder to think what I wreck I would be were I not deflecting some of my darker thoughts. When I do plunge into the muck this is dredging up in me, I feel like I am experiencing all five stages of grief and loss simultaneously. The anger, denial, depression, bargaining, and acceptance swirl in a dizzy dance because I can’t afford the time to settle into them. For right or for wrong, I know that all of this will weigh on me throughout the coming months and into the summer.
I do plan to confront my administrators in this coming week. It enrages me that I must approach them, but I hope some good can come out of this. Although the school has had numerous interdisciplinary classes for years, we do not seem to understand that departments can’t make decisions in isolation when it comes to interdisciplinary teams. The other point that I hope this current situation underscores is the importance of team-building within interdisciplinary teams. I have team-taught many times and in many ways, but my current team is the only experience that I have had that feels open and honest in its approaches – both inside and outside the instructional work. I undoubtedly have many tears left to shed for this catastrophic loss in my professional life. I love teaching, and my students are often the motivation that I have to overcome the fatiguing nature of narcolepsy, but my two current co-teachers bring out the best in me and daily push me to be better at my craft. My morning inertia will require an extra effort next year, knowing that my current team will not be waiting to greet me.