Today is the first day of school in Austin, but I am not there, and it’s not just because I moved. In May, after nineteen years teaching seventh grade English, I resigned from my career as a middle school teacher. I was not alone. Thousands of teachers across the country walked away from education this year. For me, it wasn’t the first time I quit. In 2012, after thirteen years of teaching, I felt burned out and left the classroom to write. In 2016, I came back, and I’m so glad I did because I made so many great friends at my new school. Some are still there, while several others, like me, have set off for something new.
The first time I quit, a lot of people asked me why I was leaving. This time, no one has asked. Instead, they just nod as if they already know. Sometimes they make assumptions. “I get it,” they say, and then they state the reason why they think I’m leaving. The most common fill-in-the-blank answers are covid, parents, low pay, and lack of respect. They’re not wrong, but they’re not right either, not completely.
It wasn’t just one thing; it was many things. Maybe it was everything.
Yes, teacher pay sucks. When I started my career in 1999 in Leander ISD as a first-year teacher with zero years of experience, my salary was $29,500. Last year, in Austin ISD, as a teacher with eighteen years of experience, it was $54,856. Before you start trying to do math in your head to figure out if that’s reasonable, consider two things:
- It is WAY more expensive to live in Austin now than it was in 1999.
- Last year, first year teachers with zero experience in AISD made $51,150.
Yep, my eighteen years of experience, professional development, and leadership roles were worth $3,706. (Click here to see the Austin ISD 2022-2023 Compensation Manual.)
But it’s not the pay that made me leave my job. For the first several years, I loved the work more than I craved money. Later, I had the privilege of being married to a spouse who earned much more than a teacher’s salary, and we chose not to have children, which are very expensive creatures. I was not trying to raise a family on a teacher budget, though many people are.
Covid certainly didn’t help. Hybrid teaching was terrible and caused me so much physical, mental, and emotional stress, but I can’t say it was the pandemic that drove me out either.
98% of the parents I interact with are great, and I refuse to let the 2% of terrible ones be the reason for leaving a job I love. I had already resigned this spring when a parent berated me for half an hour because his daughter plagiarized her essay and received the standard consequence according the school handbook—parent contact and a zero on the assignment with the opportunity to redo it for a 70—so he was definitely not the reason I left. (During the zoom meeting with me, he never once denied that his daughter plagiarized. Instead, he attacked my character, talked over my assistant principal, and asked that all my grading be audited. My favorite part was when he said, “What’s worse than giving a student a zero on an assignment?” and I responded, “Giving them a zero and not allowing them to redo it for a passing grade.” He never came back to that line of questioning because my answer was too logical.)
Kelly Treleaven (a.k.a. Love, Teach), a teacher, blogger, and author I’ve admired for years, calls these people “jackhammer parents.” Kelly also left the classroom this spring.
So, if it wasn’t the low pay or covid or even the “jackhammer parents” that caused me to leave, what was it? I think it was everything. Some days it was the over-testing and data-collecting. Some days (but not many) it was the disrespect from students. Some days it was the lack of enforceable consequences. Some days it was the poor communication from the district and the misguided decisions made by TEA without consulting those who the decisions would affect the most. Some days it was just the myriad of things I was asked to do without being given ample time to do them. Some days it was the fact that the AC in our school was out again, and I had to work in an 85° classroom of thirty students and thirty laptops while I sweated through my clothes and my mask.
Mostly, it just wasn’t fun anymore. I didn’t love the job like I used to, and I had the opportunity to leave, so I did. This time, I know it’s right because I’m not feeling wistful as my friends return to the classroom. I’m not having back-to-school dreams.
Still, I haven’t taken the word “teacher” off my profile because teaching is a part of my identity. Just because I’m not employed as a teacher right now doesn’t mean I don’t still feel like one, deep down. I hope to teach again in other forms, such as writing workshops and author events. (Keep an eye on my website for upcoming info about school visits.) But I don’t think I’ll ever have a permanent position in a school again.
Even though I’m not actively teaching anymore, my heart is with the teachers still in the classroom, the ones who still love it despite everything. I want to support them however I can, and one way I can do that is by showing the world what it’s really like being a teacher—the highs, the lows, the good, the bad, the ugly, the weird, the hilarious, the day-to-day life of working in a school. People who have never taught don’t truly know what teaching is like. I want them to learn. Over the course of this school year, I will be posting interviews on my blog with teachers of all subjects, grades, and experience levels. I’ll ask each of them the same set of questions and let their answers speak for themselves. (Picture James Lipton’s Inside the Actor’s Studio questionnaire except longer because I could not boil down what it means to be a teacher into only 10 questions.)
Already this school year, I’ve heard from a teacher friend who was asked to remove any books “that may be considered controversial” from her shelves. (Considered controversial by whom?) I’ve heard from a teacher friend required to be a bus monitor because so many bus personnel are out with covid. (But how is she supposed to teach her own students when she’s riding a bus for five hours a day with no extra pay?) I’ve heard from a librarian friend at a school with ten open teacher positions. (Will she get to be a real librarian this year or just a babysitter for uncovered classes?) The teacher taking over my former classroom has 183 students on her roster. (I had about 130 last year in the same position.) No one expects this school year to be easy, but they’re showing up anyway.
Teachers, you are heroes. Thank you for still being there, for everything everything everything you do. Tell me your stories, and I will make sure your voices are heard.
* If you are a teacher who would like to be interviewed or if you know a teacher I should interview on my blog, send me an email at cariejuettner@gmail.com. I’m especially interested in connecting with educators outside of Texas.
* If your company has open positions, please consider hiring a former teacher. You won’t be sorry. Read “11 Reasons Why You Should Hire a Former Teacher.”
* If you are just starting out on your teaching journey, I highly recommend Kelly Treleaven’s book: Love, Teach: Real Stories and Honest Advice to Keep Teachers From Crying Under Their Desks.
Carie Juettner 
This post sparked so much emotion for me. Thank you for all your years dedicating yourself to teaching our future and to all the teachers still hanging in there. I don’t know what it’s like to be a teacher, but I am sure they don’t get paid enough for all they do/are expected to do. Some of the things you’ve exposed remind me of my role as a property manager. No maintenance staff and no vendors to call? I’m plunging a toilet, breaking down boxes in an overflowing dumpster, or replacing a CO2 detector. People called out at three other properties? Then I need to somehow cover those three and also my own work, which all needs to be done RIGHT NOW. Nothing tops the teacher having to be a bus aide, too.
My daughters’ class is a combo class. The principle sent an email before back-to-school night, defending our teacher, assuring everyone she is more than qualified to handle both grades and explained the benefits of a combo class. She explicitly asked no one interrogate our teacher about how she expects to teach their kids when she has a whole other grade to focus on. I can only imagine the outpouring of emails from parents when they saw that. And that is probably only the tip of her daily iceberg.
Teachers are literally heroes. I love how you’re pulling off your Actor’s Studio but with teachers idea.
When I started teaching in a small rural school district northeast of San Antonio, state base pay was $6,000/year, but I made, if I recall correctly, $6100. The extra came from federal “impact funds.” I was twenty-one, had a car payment (my first, and necessary), a 30-mile commute (necessary for personal reasons), health care insurance (the state paid nothing), and take-home pay of less than $100/week. When my father learned how much I netted, he said, “I sent you to college for this?”
Wow… Thank you for sharing, Kathy! In some ways, things have changed so much. In other ways, not so much.