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I Must Preserve an Ember



This is a head in my hands, tears streaming down my face admission. Burnout is a word that's slathered with shame and misery and failure.

"You couldn't hack it as a teacher."

"Some people just aren't cut out for teaching."

"I'm shocked you made it this long."

Still, that's where I am. My classroom swirled with exactly the wrong kind of chaos on Thursday, and that's when I knew. I needed to call a spade a spade. I. Am. Burnt. Out.

I see 1,000 kids each week. My job feels like two full time jobs squeezed into one, and comes with all the expectations provided by having a really great music teacher. Oh, yeah. That's me. Sweet Cheez-Its, I can't even fill my own shoes. Thirty minutes of class each week is barely enough to do anything, but through sheer force of will and charisma, we learn how to read, write, and perform music. And Chorus! Oh, Chorus, I love you. You're so great. With so many performances. And so many children.

I work really hard.

And I've fought the good fight for so long. Begging for time, stealing afternoons for rehearsals, explaining over and over what I do and how I do it and what's necessary for successful music programs.

"We love your programs."

"Good work today."

"My/Our kids sure enjoy coming to music."

Thank you. That's not enough. Tell someone important that your student/child needs more time in music. Tell someone that a 2-hour block of specials is great for teachers but crappy for kids. Tell someone that you care how your students/children are doing in music - that you'd like to see that officially reported.

Tell someone to go listen to "Big Yellow Taxi," because you don't know what you've got. And it's gone.

I'm exhausted.

I am burnt out.




 Note: When I posted that tweet, the response was immediate, and as yet, unrelenting. Some of my closest friends in the Twittersphere have closed ranks and are holding me up in ways that the people nearest to me seem...unable? Afraid? Too busy with their own imploding everythings?...to do.
Dearest friends, your kindness is like a quilt and doughnuts and sleeping in and mashed potatoes and fluffy pancakes. You've made me laugh and cry. I've marveled at how wise and candid you are. I cannot begin to tell you how I appreciate it. You see me. You love me. I love you all back. More than you could ever even know.




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