The novice teacher

Teaching is draining.

It is unglamorous, an ugly truth. There’s no sugarcoating because it will likely lead to disappointments and crushed dreams. It also cannot be contested because teachers in this country and economy, whether they are novices, highly distinguished, naturally talented, or products of rigorous training, experience burnout most of the time.

I recently entered the academe but I’ve never been so exhausted in my entire life. I am just 23 but my body and mind already bear the brunt of someone who had been working for decades.

Passion is the fuel that keeps us going but it can also be its demise; it can burn itself. And if there’s no passion left, who are we? What can we do? How can we teach? False positivity has gotten us only so far and looking at our reality through a half-full glass doesn’t immediately make things better.

My heart goes out to the new teachers who are still acclimating themselves into the realm of education. No one really gets things right on their first try. No one is an expert overnight. No matter the amount of preparation and self-talk that we are more than capable, there will always come a time when our resolve and principles are tested. Some students will make us feel unfit to do the job. Some colleagues will openly question our competence. Some parents will doubt our credentials. Some families and relatives will belittle our noble profession.

Another factor why some people look down on us is our low salary. Those who are outsiders in our line of work usually ask what school we work at and how much we earn as if these things are normal to ask in public spaces. As if there’s no harm at all or a kind of invasion in the way they ask such personal questions. The worst part, however, is not how they ask the question but the face they unconsciously make when our answers do not meet their expectations. It’s hard to interpret what their expressions mean. It could be pity, genuine sympathy, or a disguised look of sadness and surprise to conceal the fact that they have been right in the first place for thinking that our job is poorly remunerated. This is a hard pill to swallow. There’s no going back when people ask you how much you make because, in our culture, money is a huge factor in how society defines success. No matter how far your merits take you, salary is still the more obvious element in judging our social status.

So, what do we do in those situations? Do we owe these people an explanation? How can we explain ourselves without sounding defensive? Were we wrong in choosing to be a teacher despite the less ideal wage? Did they not think that no matter how much we yearn for financial stability, the economy doesn’t allow us? Is it our fault that we are underpaid yet still aim to deliver quality education?

To make things clear, these negative experiences do not make us ungrateful for the job. We are lucky and blessed to have been absorbed by educational institutions. It is challenging to be employed these days because of competitive screenings in public and private schools. Every job opportunity needs experience in teaching but how can we check out this requirement if we are fresh off college? In other schools, they need a master’s degree but what if we are just beginning our teaching career?

However, what piqued my curiosity and made me in awe of many aspiring teachers is their unparalleled tenacity to try even if they know the naked truth of being overworked and underpaid. I admire the dedication of new teachers who jump off the cliff without knowing if they will survive the raging waves, who heartily accept heavy workloads despite being naïve about the inner workings of the system, who clamp down their tears to appear courageous and spirited.

Whenever I see and hear the adjustments and sacrifices of my friends, I cannot help but sympathize with them for I, too, have been there and am still there. It takes a lot of grit, self-restraint, and courage to overcome obstacles one may face in an environment that perpetuates power dynamics and toxic culture. And it is an uphill battle for beginners.

As another school year begins, I wish new teachers kick-start their jobs with faith in themselves. Our self-esteem is the constant thing we have that cannot be taken away from us as long as we don’t give other people the power to define who we are.

Teachers, as you enter your classes, work with colleagues, and meet with parents, may you always have faith in yourselves to handle things with grace, humility, respect, and professionalism. Always take with you this pocket of wisdom: Children learn more from who you are than from what you teach.

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Divina Grace D. Eugenio, 23, is a college instructor and an avid reader of fiction.