When You Care

Life can be a lot sometimes. You become overwhelmed by the weight of things you shouldn’t, you lose sight of the important stuff over the trivial stuff, and sometimes, things just take you by surprise. And one Monday morning, just a couple days before Thanksgiving, that was exactly what happened. A deer ran straight out in front of my car on my way to work. It had already been an exhausting week, or more accurately, several weeks, before this. My first thought, before even asking myself whether I was okay (I was): “great, this might as well happen.” On top of several other things, this was just the cherry on top to what had been a rather low couple weeks for Jon Kline. Not enough to be anxious about the damage to the car, not enough concern over my own safety, not enough to even care to stop for a second and be grateful that it wasn’t worse, my primary thought: annoyance. I was gonna be late to work. I was gonna have to deal with insurance and rental cars. This was gonna be in the back of my mind the whole day while I try and do school and parent conferences.

It wasn’t until later I had that moment of conviction that things were, in fact, hardly as bad as they seemed. People were looking out for me. School was flexible, my team helping me any way they could. My Dad being the first one to call, the one to complain to, the one to help look over the damage, the one to let me borrow his car as I waited for a rental. And importantly, God protecting me from anything far worse.

The truth is, I was very discouraged at that time and lost sight of what really mattered. I felt so overwhelmed by life that I couldn't care less about the fact that I'd gotten five hours of sleep the night before. I'd so hyper-focused on all the wrong things that I ignored what was right in front of me. Having a reminder fly right in front of your face — one that’s brown and 100 pounds at that— that it’s not so bad, that you are doing all you can, and importantly, that you’re not alone and unnoticed... sometimes that’s exactly what you need.

New Adventures Begin

I always say that I wish I was able to write more— and a good chunk of that comes from finding the time and discipline to actually do it. But, as you’ll see, life gets full pretty quickly. So, to briefly catch you up to speed from last time: I applied for several jobs after graduation, and time after time I wouldn’t get it. I quickly started to get discouraged: I knew I could teach; I knew wherever I did eventually end up I would make an impact, but, somehow, I couldn’t get a job. I had several interviews for schools that felt right, that felt like it should be in the bag, but even with interviews I felt went flawlessly, I was having no success.

And then, I got the call. The school I was sure I bombed, that I felt completely unqualified for, that I felt I had no chance with, offered me the job. It wasn’t anything I expected. A middle school maternity leave, teaching sixth grade English. To a teacher that spent five years in preschool, it was a shift from Earth to Mars. I wouldn’t in a million years have expected to teach middle school. But it was exactly what I would need to start my career, a perfect learning opportunity in school I would come to love. Where I least expected it, a door had been opened up for me. Now, it was time to walk through it.

With only weeks to go until the start of the school year, I eagerly awaited a bright new future. I settled into a new classroom, a new grade, a new era. Leaving preschool, of course, leaving a job you’ve loved, coworkers and friends you’ve admired, and starting from scratch again, was tough. Especially knowing that while before you had stability, five years of experience and knowledge and connections, now, you would only have four months. Four months to make a name for yourself, to make connections, to find your place, and most importantly, try and make some impact on these kids. Four months to soak it all in, to learn what you can, teach what you can, and do all that you’re meant to.

By God, has it gone quick.

A Full Life

There’s a lot that goes into teaching middle school English. You’re given about 75 kids, four periods, and forty minutes to a lesson. Hit these standards, make sure you keep in mind your learning objectives, and fasten your seatbelts to prepare for takeoff. This isn’t some small Cessna or glider— it’s a high speed F22 military jet, and you are the pilot. You may not be a first-year pilot, but you’ve never done anything like this. Given a quick thumbs up, you roll onto the runway, pray, and launch.

Takeoff (sticking with the flying metaphor for a moment) is relatively smooth. 75 kids seems like a lot, and it is, but somehow you learn each of them, their personalities, their strengths, weaknesses, interests, ticks, and most importantly, how to build a relationship with them. 40 minutes, on the other hand, and four months, is not a lot. And the scope of what gets fit into those 40-minute sessions over 4 months is immense. There’s a variety of academic standards. You know, the standard text connections, summarizing, sequencing, analyzing characters, evidence-based responses… But beyond all that, understanding the needs of each student. Needs, that go far beyond the academic. There’s the lonely. The depressed. The broken homes, the anxiety, the outspoken but inwardly broken, the outward bold and obnoxious but desperate to be heard. The easy ones, the hard ones, the ones that drive you wild. And you quickly find that you devote yourself to each and every one of them.

As a teacher, you do it all. Lessons. Homework. Book studies. Assessments. Conferences, professional development, assemblies, holidays, absences, emails, grading, mentor meetings, lesson planning… Everything gets packed in. Ensuring the kids learn something meaningful. Ensuring that you motivate them and push them to do the best they can. Ensuring that they feel comfortable and respected and safe. You deal with incidents you couldn’t possibly have imagined and carry their burdens as your own.

To say that I feel like I absorbed absolutely everything from this year is hardly a light statement. Like I said, you take a lot of what the students bring and meet them where they are. But beyond that, you have to prove yourself. Prove yourself to your students every day. Prove yourself to your team, the administration, the families, proving it to yourself. You strive for perfection, learning how to be the best teacher you can. You provide the resources and supports for students to succeed. You spend hours staying late, days on the weekend making sure this lesson is ready, this homework is meaningful, this goal is being met. You absorb it all: feedback, emotions, drama, trauma. And while it starts out as a desire to prove yourself and provide everything for these students, what it turns into is overwhelming.

Pouring from an Empty Cup- And How to Fill it

The first two weeks of school I was staying late, until 6:00, almost every night. The next two weeks I was staying until 7:00 almost every night. After that, it was 8:00, even 9:00 some nights. And I don’t say that as a thing to boast about. Because I had dozens of people, my friends, parents, grandparents, coworkers, even principal tell me that it was a bad idea. That if I kept my current trajectory, I’d get burned out. At first, I ignored them. I genuinely felt it impossible to not put all I was into it. As a new teacher, you have to be willing to have it rough for a while. Then I realized I’d missed all of September and hadn’t spent much of any time caring about myself. And while it's good to care about doing your job well, and even better to care about the kids, caring about yourself and your own wellbeing is also just as important— something I didn't do nearly enough.

October was better, at first. I got to take time to enjoy the little bits of fall that were left, make an effort to socialize, and even go on a couple trips here and there. But I still always came back and hit the ground running. And even when I did step away, I never truly felt like I stepped away because either work would be in the back of my mind, or worse, I’d be trying to answer emails and input grades from the hotel or family gathering. Late nights, early mornings, and little free time was the standard. By November, I was back to where I was in September, only now, it wasn’t just the academic stuff that was overwhelming— it was all those needs I mentioned earlier. There’s all you need to do, all you need to be, all you need to accomplish…

And then it hits you. That deer. That reminder, that despite everything, you are not in control. The reminder to slow down. The reminder to take a deep breath. Not to be overwhelmed. Not to strive for some unattainable perfection, but to know that you are good enough, that you have made a difference, that you’ve been more for some of these kids than they’ve ever known.

It’s okay to have high standards, to devote yourself to others, and to work hard. But it’s also okay to not always have perfection, to spend time on yourself, and to take a step back or a day off. You aren’t alone— even if it feels like it many days. You are doing the best you can every day. You show up, put your heart and soul into it because you care. And that fact matters more than any lesson you could ever teach.

Teaching can be a lot. Life, can be a lot. Now, at the end of December, it’s crazy to think that my four-month stint in 6th grade ELA is at its end. I did it. All those late nights, all the effort, the stress, the tears… it all paid off. I’ve learned a great deal about being a teacher, lessons I’m going to carry with me wherever I go and into whatever setting I’m in next. I’ve taught a thing or two to about 75 sixth graders, who hopefully will do a little bit better on their homework or be a little more confident in their reading or writing. But more importantly, I built connections. I changed lives. I made a difference. I cared.

"Caring is not just a word; it’s an action of the heart."- Jimmy Rollins

And so, even with all the craziness, there’s the reason why: the ones that make it worth it. All the high points, and all the low, I did because I did it for them. 75 students that have meant the world to you and that you’ll always remember as your first. The team and admin that always was there to support me and help me grow. The friends and family that believed in me and checked in on me (and an especially big shoutout to my Dad— literally checking to make sure I’ve got something to eat every day). My Mom, the one who inspired me to be a teacher and showed me exactly what it meant to be a caring teacher. And of course, the One that guides my path, has given me comfort, and a heart that echoes him in each interaction I have with these kids.

Whatever comes next, I know how much I’ve absolutely adored my time in 6th grade at this school and how much everyone has meant to me.