Losing My Identity as a Teacher

When "I can't do this anymore" finally happens.

I’m the crayon!

Guest post by Denise Tsamouris. Republished after taking down for a brief time.

As a teacher, the end of the school year always brings so many different emotions. You spend an entire year focused on a group of students. You grow with them. You live with them through happiness, triumph, and at times, sadness, or tragedy. They all need something different from you in that year, and you do your best to meet them where they are. Some need someone to listen to them, to root for them, to be the constant in their everyday lives. When calling on them in class, it might be one of the few times they hear their name that day. These tiny humans can be going through some of the most complicated emotions, and yet there they are, in class, working on an essay or building their science project. At the end of the school year, it is like closing another chapter with them. You close shop and enjoy a short break before you do it all over again.

In my years of teaching, I have taught over 1,100 students. That is with direct teaching, not to mention the students from various clubs I sponsored, the district events I’ve led, or the random kiddos in school that you befriend who just needs positive interactions with an adult. I may never fully know the impact I made on their lives. There are students in college who reach out to tell me I was their favorite teacher, that they themselves are in school to be a teacher, and they want to model their teaching style after mine. Even some of my most challenging students, who gave me absolute hell sometimes, have contacted me to tell me they understood I was just trying to be there for them. I have also had parents reach out and stay in touch through the years, which is great because I get to see when their families reach big milestones. Even after 13 years of teaching, the odd passage of time can really hit you when you see a student you taught bagging your groceries, graduating college, getting married, or becoming a parent.

I too grew up while teaching. I married the love of my life, we had three beautiful children, moved homes a few times, paid off debts, and continue to do mundane things like plan for retirement. You get older and have annoying aches and pains, or you get plantar fasciitis from standing for a decade straight.

As a kid, I always wanted to be a teacher. My room would be setup like an organized classroom where I would teach my stuffed animals, who would always receive stickers for good behavior. My path was always clear. I went to Sam Houston State University, which has one of the best teaching programs in Texas, and graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Interdisciplinary Studies. Shortly after I went back to earn a Masters in Curriculum & Instruction. Being a teacher wasn’t enough. I wanted to be a great educator. I took this to heart, always volunteering for the district events like the Science Fair, UIL, putting on Professional Developments every summer, writing curriculum, and on and on. Most of my 13 years has been spent as a Team Leader, and a short stint leading two teams simultaneously. At my previous CISD campus, my peers voted me Teacher of the Year twice within a three-year period, which I felt the second one was out of pity for the amount of work saddled onto me.

I was not the only one working my tail off, as I shared in these experiences with hundreds of inspiring educators across many Conroe ISD campuses, who also wanted to provide the best they could for their students. Many of these people have become my close friends, including staff and administrators.

There have also been some of the most amazing Principals and APs at our schools, who make you feel appreciated and cared for. They are a call away from helping or being there when needed. However, this brings me to what my primary struggle has been: My career has also seen some extremely toxic admin. There was one person in particular who was so horrible to staff over years, and they did not seem to care when a grown adult had been reduced to crying in their presence (as one example). This leadership “style” continued for many years, for many teachers, and throughout year after year of high turnover, which some years ran close to 50%. We would all be very interested to see the raw OHI scores between schools, and why the best places to work in Conroe ISD are in the high 90s, while the worst continue in the single digits.

Certain school administration is not the only major issue. More and more students simply do not care about the consequences of their actions. Bad behavior has made teaching a daily struggle to maintain order and sanity, and student discipline must go beyond the student before it can be corrected. Over time these things add up and essentially present as teacher burnout. At the risk of repeating myself or what you already know, the teaching profession has changed. It has not been for the better.

Even within these environments I kept doing my best because that is my personality, and all I have ever known is to keep working hard through even the most stressful situations. As I would come to learn, those abuses would accumulate on top of the already stressful role of being an educator. I began telling my husband, “I can’t do this anymore” years before I actually made the decision. It took a long time for me to get to the point of actually leaving.

This does not mean that there are not great people doing everything they can to show support for teachers. The room moms, the well-organized PTOs, the frequent showering of gifts from students during the holidays, the first “Rayford Round Up Facebook Group Teacher of the Month” award, or the timely Starbucks or Sonic drink from my best friends - these are the things I will miss the most. Even during the pandemic, when I had my “zoomers and roomers” (virtual vs in-class), there were so many great moments that were shared in our struggles dealing with split teaching.

It hurts to say that even with all the fun, love, and recognition that I had or received, it has not been enough to turn my overall experience around. Neither did medication.

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Now this school year is over, but instead of leaving for summer break or moving classrooms to a new school, I was turning in my keys after putting in for resignation. Over the last week I slowly began moving out half my classroom possessions. The other half I was donating to any teachers that would take them: furniture, books, storage containers, supplies, decorations, posters, and countless other things I had accumulated over my career. It felt like I was giving away my final possessions before leaving this world.

I cried, a lot.

Everything I have accomplished in my professional life has been through my identity as a teacher. And now it is over. It was hard to explain this feeling before, but now I know what this is.

It is grief.

I am grieving the loss of my identity as a teacher. Where some teachers are leaving with the attitude of Sirius Black shouting, “I DID MY WAITING!!”, I am Tom Hanks struggling to save his best friend who is floating away; “WILSON! I’M SORRY!!” A piece of my life is being left behind, and I do not know if I will ever see it again. Losing one’s purpose is a difficult one to process.

If any teachers are reading this, and you have less than my 13 years of teaching, I want you to know that your experience may be different than mine. I stayed at the same school for over 10 years, when I likely should have moved onto another campus. There are better places to work, and it is okay to move. It may not prevent all the headaches of being an educator, but it can certainly change things up. I decided to move campuses this past year, and it was the most amazing change in work environment that I have ever experienced. Administration absolutely matters for the morale of the school and arguably student achievement. For me though, even changing to a better school did not turn things around.

For teachers who have more experience or are close to retirement, I hope my words still ring true regarding the struggles teachers face. I still had 21 years to go before retirement, assuming nothing changed. Staying just didn’t seem like the best decision for my mental health, but I recognize the teachers who have been in this for the long haul and continue to do so. You are all champions.

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So where do I go from here? What am I looking for in my next chapter? There are a few things we are lining up, including new certifications and connecting with other education-adjacent services. Time will tell.

For now, it is time to enjoy a final summer break. And to grieve.