To Sick Day, or Not To Sick Day?

The bell for lunch rings and students hurry off to jockey for position in the serpentine cafeteria line, leaving various items in their wake. My stomach is also grumbling, but my teacher brain tells me to sweep the classroom and look for left behind water bottles, lunch bags, and pencil cases before heading to the lounge to grab my sandwich. I find two erasers, one Hydroflask, and a wooden pencil so small it’s only suitable for Bilbo Baggins. After placing the items in the lost & found box, I head to the front office. Halfway to my destination it hits me.

Uh oh. I think I’m getting sick.

Damnit.

I still have two classes to go before the end of the school day. A quick check of my symptoms tells me I can make it just fine to the end of the school day. It’s the next day I immediately begin worrying about. If things get worse, I won’t be in much of any shape to deliver any kind of decent lesson to my students. 

I grab a rapid Covid test from the office, snag my sandwich from the overstuffed communal fridge, and retreat to my classroom for some cost/benefit analysis. After shoving a cotton swab up my nose and punching in the needed info into the companion iPhone app, I wait 15 minutes and begin planning.

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I have no idea how sick days work in other professions. All I know is that taking a sick day as a teacher is extremely inconvenient, and sometimes more costly than just battling through it the next day. Allow me to explain.

The lesson pacing for a school year is extremely delicate, requiring careful planning as a team and consistent revision. We are expected to teach, assess, and reteach a long list of standards over the course of 180 days. In some cases an accelerated math course requires covering 1.5 years worth of material in the same 180 days. This is almost impossible to do. Taking a sick day almost guarantees that I cannot do the lesson I had planned to do, and requires completely revamping my lesson for the next day, and shifting the entire pacing guide back a day. Every once in a while I get extremely lucky and a sick day falls on the same day I would have normally done seat work or review. I believe this has happened maybe twice in my entire career.

Along with the disruption to lesson pacing, taking a sick day also requires making a detailed lesson plan for the substitute. Over the years I have been able to create a template that works pretty well, trying to incorporate everything a sub would need in order to have a successful day. Even with a streamlined approach, creating the plan still takes a few hours, which I’m usually doing after school while progressively feeling worse. I update seating charts, highlight students with special needs, make sure the emergency backpack rosters are accurate, make copies and label them all with clear sticky notes, create Google Slide decks for each class to follow, and organize the entire classroom. All told, the moment I decide to take a sick day I know I have about 2 hours of work to do before I can go home and be sick.

This brings me to the substitute. I must preface this by saying that I have great respect for anyone in this profession, especially over the past 3 years. Being a sub during Covid must be extremely challenging, and I tip my cap to anyone who has stuck with it. I know that our district was absolutely desperate for subs the first two years, and frequently had to send administrators from the district office to cover absences. The job is very challenging, and you never know what you are going to get. 

That being said….

I only ask for two things from a substitute teacher in my room:

1. Keep the students safe.
2. Just follow the plan.

I work really hard to make sure everything is ready for you to have a successful day. I’m not asking you to teach a new concept, because I don’t know your level of math expertise and it wouldn’t be fair to you. All I need is for you to arrive on time, read the plan I have left for you, and make sure it gets done. 

I wish I could say this is what happens every time.

I always know how the sub day went the moment I open the classroom door. Just look at the floor. The amount of trash on the floor tells you everything you need to know. High trash volume means the students were not behaving well, or the sub was not in control. It’s an instant indicator of whether I should keep the sub on my preferred list or not. 

After that, look at where the lesson handouts should be. If they are mostly gone, that’s a pretty good sign. One time I came back to a room with every handout still on the table. I asked the students what happened and they informed me the sub spent all 55 minutes telling life stories. He was never asked back to my room. On my most recent sick day, I returned to find many of the handouts stuffed in the supply bins at each table group. When I collected the work from the students the next day, not a single one had completed the work in some of the classes. Apparently they decided to do Karaoke in class instead. Cool.

Most of the time the sub does a great job and manages the day. It’s really all I can ask for. Sometimes they go above and beyond, grading assignments, cleaning the room, and helping students during tutorial. Every now and then it’s a disaster. One year I had a woman who went around telling my most fragile math students in my intervention class that they would never get into college. I made sure she never came back to our school again. 

It’s the unpredictable nature of it all that is the most challenging part. Every day of middle school brings different challenges, and it’s not like I’m always at my best. We all have bad days, teachers and students alike. The hard part is knowing that no matter how well you plan and prepare, you still have no control of what is happening in your classroom.

To sick day, or not to sick day?

Early in my career I would never take a sick day, no matter how bad I felt. I just always figured it would be easier to tough it out. Looking back, this was not a wise decision. A cold that should have lasted 3 days stretched on for weeks at a time. I would go to work when I literally could not speak, and I figured that pantomiming my lesson was still better than not being there. One time I got a concussion on a Sunday night while playing hockey and taught the next day in sunglasses because the overhead projector was so bright I couldn’t think straight. Probably should have stayed home on that one.

Working through Covid-19 these past three years has taught me to value my own health more, as well as the health of my students. Last year I took three sick days, which was half as many as I had taken in the previous 17 years. When I started to feel crummy on the second to last day of school, I listened to my body, made the correct choice and took a sick day the next day. I missed 8th grade promotion and was not able to see my students off to high school. The next morning I tested positive for Covid and was glad I decided to stay home.

Despite my growth in respecting my own health, I still feel the desire to “tough it out” when I’m not feeling well. I’m not really feeling that bad, right? I can make it through one more day.

To sick day, or not to sick day?

Sadly, that is still question. One day I hope it won’t be.

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One final thought.

Laurie Unbehand will forever be my most cherished substitute teacher. Smart, witty, confident, and in control. Laurie was always my first choice when trying to get a sub. Laurie knew the math, would always follow the lesson plan, and could be trusted to teach new concepts with skill. Laurie had four children of her own, all of whom attended our school over the years. On days that she was subbing for another teacher we would joke in the lounge that somehow I avoided having all of her children in my class. She knew many of the students because they were friends or teammates with her own children, and she used this expertly to her advantage. If a student she knew was behaving poorly she would bust out her cell phone and ask if she needed to call their parents and let them know how they were behaving. Best of all, Laurie was kind, and truly cared about all of the students in her temporary classroom. 

Cancer stole Laurie from her family way too soon, and I think about her from time to time in my daily work. I still have one of the pencils that was given out at her memorial service encouraging the owner to always keep learning. It’s in my pencil jar on my desk as a small reminder of the good she did in the world.

Thank you Laurie for always keeping my students on task, learning, and cared for.

It’s Time to Retire These Cliches of the Teaching Profession

A few weeks back I was mindlessly scrolling through my Twitter feed after a long Monday at work. Most of the accounts I follow are hockey related (go Ducks!), or Critical Role focused. I sprinkle in a few reliable news outlets and some accounts whose opinion I value or find intriguing. A five minute scroll catches me up on news of the day, the latest developments of the Ducks roster moves, and some fantastic fan art of Orym, Fearne, and Fresh Cut Grass. I try to avoid controversial accounts, or people who post every five seconds looking for “engagement”. Every once in a while, however, the Twitter algorithm throws me for a loop with a random “suggestion”. For some reason it felt that I might “enjoy” the following Tweet from a highly followed account :

I have…many thoughts. 

“Public school teachers hate working”.

Um, no. 

Most of my adult life has been devoted to working this job. 

I work hard. I work extremely hard every single day. My family, friends, and colleagues can all attest to this. I am exhausted when I get home from my work day. I wake up at 4:30am every morning and get to work by 7:00am. From the minute I arrive to the minute I leave, usually around 4:30pm, I am working. I create lesson plans, respond to parent emails, meet with colleagues, create and revise assessments, research lesson ideas, grade assessments, etc. Oh, and I teach 5 classes a day. My brain is actively working for 9 -10 hours straight. I work through my 35 minute lunch period, and try to get a few exams graded during the 10 minute snack break after 2nd period.

I don’t hate working. I love the work that I do. My work gives me purpose. The work I do is valuable and important. I know that every single day I show up to work is a day that I can help a student achieve their dreams. I help children understand how to apply critical thinking and logic to the problems in their life.

How dare you claim that I hate working. Shame on you.

“They only have to work 9 or 10 months of the year”.

This is technically true. My teaching contract is from the middle of August to the first week of June. This is a factual statement. 

What this statement leaves out is that I only get paid for 10 months of work as well. I do not receive a paycheck for the months of July or August. I must budget wisely throughout the year to make sure my 10 paychecks last 12 months. If they don’t, I must find other means of earning money to get by. Things can get pretty dicey by the middle of September.

The more degrading implication though, as I understand it, is that teachers don’t really work a full job, or somehow have it easier because of this. I cannot disagree more. During a normal school year I am paid for about 185 days of work, 180 with students and 5 for beginning of the year planning and professional development. I work an average of 9.5 hours each day, but only get paid for 8 of those hours. I also work almost every Sunday for 5-6 hours creating lessons and grading assessments. I don’t get paid for any of that time. This equates to about 1,938 hours of work in a school year, or 242.25 8-hour work days. A normal calendar year has about 260 weekdays in it. I work almost the equivalent of a normal corporate 9 to 5 job, and I do it all in 2 less months. 

Don’t tell me that I “only work 10 months a year”. Let’s end that tired cliche right now.

(If you want my receipts on how much I actually work in a year, I logged every single hour of work for an entire school year here back in 2012/13, just for funsies.)

“Get every holiday off”.

Yep, I do. It’s pretty great. 

I also earn the hell out of those days off.

See above.

“Every weekend”.

Now, I must admit that teaching is the only career I’ve ever had, so my knowledge is limited here. But, don’t most careers get the weekend off? Aren’t there labor laws in place that require employees to only be scheduled so many days in a row, or so many hours in a week? My only other job before teaching had me work Monday-Friday. I’m assuming that hourly workers can choose to work overtime or take on extra shifts, but they get compensated more for their time, right? 

Perhaps I am naive and need to do more research, but I thought there were rules and laws about that kind of thing.

I don’t think weekends are a luxury that only teachers enjoy.

“They got a one year paid vacation during COVID”.

You can absolutely go %@&$ yourself.

That’s all I have to say about that.

“And it’s still too much for them.”

One beneficial thing about the pandemic was that it opened many eyes to what was truly essential in our society. 

Grocery store workers. Essential.

Docks workers and long-haul truckers. Essential.

Doctors, nurses, and hospital staff. Essential

Workers in food production facilities. Essential.

Twitter pundits? Not essential.

Teachers and child care providers. Essential.

The result of this revelation? People know what they are truly worth, and they start demanding it. 

Teachers don’t have too much. They are demanding what they deserve for the essential work they do. If they don’t get it, they harness the power of their union and demand it for themselves, and their students.

I think Shonda Rimes summed it up pretty well back in March of 2020 when schools were forced to close:

“Amazing”.

Congratulations. You finally got something in your Tweet completely correct.

Teachers are pretty amazing, aren’t we?

Saying No: My Path to (better) Work/Life Balance.

It began as a small ask from my principal way back in the early days of my teaching career. They needed another teacher to chaperone the first dance after school. Sure. That seems easy. Two hours of witnessing awkward teens be awkward. What could go wrong? (It was fine).

As a first year (temporary) teacher, I felt the need to say yes to every request from the administration. I barely knew what I was doing on a daily basis in the classroom, so anything I could do to further solidify myself as at least a reliable employee seemed absolutely necessary for my future employment. Even if I wasn’t asked back after that first year, they would hopefully be able to say that I was a strong employee with a good work ethic on those future reference check calls. 

Daily lunch supervision, concert supervision each trimester, and the after school homework club were all things I said yes to. Granted, some of those things came with additional pay, which was nice. The problem was that I did all those things, then still stayed until 7-8pm each night trying to lesson plan for the next day. Every work day was at least twelve hours long, and I was only being paid for 7 of them. When you both arrive at and leave work when it is dark out every single day, it takes its toll.

Somehow I made it through that first year (mostly because of the substantial help from my mentor teacher Ann), then also made it to year three, earning tenure. I figured that once my employment status was more permanent I would be able to let some things go. I was wrong. By my fourth year I had said yes to most any adjunct duty that was needed at school. I was also offering help after school to any of my students (and some that weren’t), staying in my classroom for over an hour after the school day. When the kid who hasn’t turned in anything in over a month finally asks for help, you don’t say no.

After a while, small adjunct duties here and there became larger committees and leadership roles. This meant way more meetings, additional planning outside of my regular lessons, and oh so many emails. It felt good that people wanted me to be on certain committees, and I had the chance to advocate for changes I thought our school or district needed to make. When you work really hard for a decade, there is a bit of an ego boost knowing that people value your experience and input. It sure does take up a lot of your time, though.

Around the early 2010’s (if I remember correctly) there was a big shift in our district towards the Professional Learning Community (PLC). This led to much more collaboration with my department colleagues, which was awesome, but also way more meetings and time spent coming to common agreements. Each year our department would set a goal of making one big structural change based on the latest research showing what was best for kids. How could I say no to that? This continued for many years.

Then Covid-19 happened.

School shut down. I had two days to figure out how to turn my home into a classroom and change every lesson I’ve ever created. Two weeks of “Emergency Distance Learning” turned into 2.5 months. 2.5 months turned into another full school year of teaching online. This was not good for my physical and mental health. It did, however, help me gain perspective on what I valued.

Year 18 of my career, back in the classroom full of masked humans, I decided to try an experiment. Say no to everything. How would it feel to just teach my classes and not say yes to any of the extra stuff that can happen at school? I did only my mandatory supervision and adjunct duties. I did almost no additional help after school. I tried my hardest to be as focused as possible during my PLC meetings so that they would last as little time as possible and still be meaningful. I came to work every day at 7:00AM and left by 4:00PM. 

It felt… fine. I wish I could say that I had some monumental epiphany, but I didn’t. I did find that the thing I value most is the daily interactions with my students. I have built positive relationships with so many amazing kids over the course of my career, and watching them grow into incredible adults brings me great joy. 

Year 19 started a few weeks ago. Before the first day with kids we have a few days of meetings and time to prepare our classroom. After that first big staff meeting our principal sends out an email detailing all of the supervision and adjunct duties we can/have to sign up for, as well as additional stipend positions we can take on. When my email chime went off at 2:30pm I rushed to open it and sign up for the bare minimum yet again. It’s a google doc, so duties go fast. Different colored cursors belonging to various staff members are selecting options. Names get deleted by others on “accident”. It’s a frenetic, cut-throat scene. 

I got my preferred 5 weeks of after school supervision duty in the quad. Phew! (Only the rookies take the front of school duty).

I got my coveted “end of year awards committee” adjunct duty. One of the few adjunct duties that is basically just handing out joy to students. That took care of my 6-8 required hours.

I was done. The bare minimum had been achieved.

Then I saw the optional lunch club supervision opportunities. Chaperone a lunch club once a week in your classroom. Pretty easy, could be really fun. 

Then I saw it. The Dungeons & Dragons club.

Sign. Me. Up!

The first meeting of the Dungeons & Dragons (and rubik’s cubing and magic) club was yesterday. My room was full of passionate nerds nerding out to their nerdiest nerd desires. I loved every minute of it. 

This is what I say “yes” to now. 

One lunch per week spent helping kids meet friends who love what they love in a safe place. 

How could I say no to that?

The Not-So-Obvious Things You Should Have in Your Classroom on Day One.

The lesson is going great. Students are engaged, working together on a high-cognition task. Conversations are on target, whiteboard markers are squeaking, math is in the air. Students are totally in the flow.

An inquisitive student approaches. You are ready to field their question (most likely with a question of your own, or a smile and a move on since they just want an answer and you are not an answer key, my friend).

“Mr. Zuercher?”

“Yes, my brilliant, hard-working, persevering student of mine?”

“There’s a spider on my desk”

“Not what I was expecting, but ok.”

Flow interrupted. Assorted students freak out. One of them bolts from the room. Math is no longer in the air. What a shame.

It’s a fact of life in teaching that situations will arise that you are not expecting, usually at the most inopportune time. I will gloss over the “Can I go to the bathroom?” question during the middle of a discussion trope. I’m thinking more along the lines of “It’s the last 10 minutes of school and right outside your classroom window a school groundskeeper is wrestling to the pavement a completely nude man high on some kind of substance while the nearby elementary school kids are being let out of school for the day and witnessing….everything”.

Whether it is day one of year one, or the second to last day of your teaching career, you will undoubtedly run into a situation where you don’t have what you need. It’s going to happen, but if you have the following items in your teaching toolbox, you might be prepared for them more often.

Bandages

Get all the sizes. You will need them.

Yes, the classroom is mandated to have a first aid kit. We have a nifty backpack right next to the door that has all sorts of items in case of an emergency. There’s even a glow stick for…reasons? In 18 years I think I have used the first aid kit maybe five times. However, I shell out bandages on the regular, at least once a week. Probably the most sought after item in my teacher desk is the big box of assorted bandages that I always buy at the beginning of the year. I don’t know what these kids are doing, but man do they need bandages. Most often it is the student who comes in from lunch or break with a skinned knee. There’s also the random hangnail or cut finger. I don’t need an explanation, just grab a bandage and don’t leave the trash on my floor! As an added bonus, get some extra antiseptic wipes from the nurse’s office. The first aid kit never has enough.

The Fly Swatter

Insect death comes in a variety of colors.

I would love to report that I respect all life on the planet equally, and that every creature should be cherished. I cannot report that. It would be disingenuous of me, and that’s not what I’m here for. Sometimes that fly in your room just needs to die. Having a quality fly swatter at your disposal is critical. Bees, spiders, roaches and the like will all eventually find their way into your classroom, and they must go. My fly swatter has a happy face on it, because I value irony.

If a bird flies into your room, the fly swatter will not be effective. Just turn off all the lights and open the door. It usually works.

In case of a deer…run.

The Basic IKEA Tool Kit

Simple. Cheap. Highly effective.

When I first moved into my condo back in the mid 2000’s I was shopping for furniture at IKEA and I spotted this toolkit at the checkout aisle. I think it was $5.99. Best money I have ever spent. Things in your room are going to break. You will need to hang difficult items on your wall or from the ceiling. Desks and chairs need tightening. I have used every piece of this toolkit multiple times, and I am always glad I have it.

The hammer is also effective against deer.

The Door/Window Shade

My classroom door happens to be 90% window, which is not ideal in a lockdown situation. The ability to quickly cover your windows and doors is essential, unfortunately. Having a quick rolling or pull-down shade is a must for every classroom. Some teachers I know use a large piece of rolled up chart paper taped to the top of their door, which can be implemented quickly in case of emergency. A long time ago a student gifted me a life-size Corey Perry hanging fabric height chart. Mr. Perry hangs in my doorway, protecting us from dangerous situations, such as naked strangers on amphetamines.

Tells you your height, and protects you from danger?

Mr. Perry is somewhat effective against deer.

The Glade Plug-In

Plug it in, plug it in.

My students come to realize pretty quickly that I like to sing in my class. My Canadian National Anthem is pretty solid. I have a pretty decent “Let It Go” chorus as well. My all-time classic though is the Glade Plug-In commercial jingle. Comes in really handy when you are teaching evaluating algebraic expressions. Do you know the value of a variable? Plug it in, plug it in!

Aside from being a fun teaching tool, the Glade plug-in is also a real nose saver.

It’s late August. 92 degrees. P.E. is getting their first benchmark times for the mile run. Students are…pungent. The bell rings and they have 3 minutes to get to your class. You are going to be very thankful for that vanilla scent that permeates the air in your room. Doesn’t solve everything, but you’re gonna be glad you have it over nothing at all.

The Hygiene Box

Please, take as many as you need.

Hit that Target bargain bin aisle every once in a while and try to stock up on travel-size deodorant, mouth wash, and feminine hygiene products. Organize them in a box and put them underneath wherever you have the bathroom pass. The standing rule in my class is that I trust my students to use the restroom when necessary. It’s nice to have certain items available to them when they go. No judgement, just take what you need and handle your business.

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What are your favorite items that you have in your classroom for those unexpected situations? What have I forgotten? Leave a comment below.

It’s so (not) easy!

Ask any of my students what my biggest pet peeves are and I’m pretty confident they will be able to tell you my top three. This usually comes up in the first few weeks of school, as I ask them theirs when they create their “What Are You All About” Google Slides. I make one as well, because I always try to complete whatever it is I am asking them to do. Before you read my list, think about your top three. Are they as pedantic as mine?

1. People who add an “h” to the end of the word “height”. Length? Yep, there’s an “h” at the end. Width? You betcha! Height? NO! Just… stop it!
2. When someone doesn’t return their shopping cart at the grocery store and just leaves it in the middle of the parking spot, thereby fooling you into thinking you have a space to pull into. Savages.
3. When a student is working on a math problem and loudly claims “This is so easy!”.

Obviously, the first two items in the list don’t really matter. They just bug me. I put them on my list because they really are just small things that cause me a minor moment of frustration, but in the grand scheme of things really mean nothing. It’s that third one though that can be so damaging in the math classroom.

I use this list as a way to introduce growth mindset and math empathy in my class. When I was in elementary and middle school I routinely had a very difficult time focusing on my work, lessons that were being taught, or listening to others. A.D.D. will do that to you. I struggled in some areas, and excelled in others. During math time, if I was able to focus, I generally did fine (don’t ask me about homework completion though). During the times I could not focus I would fall into a confusion spiral and get supremely frustrated, raising my stress and anxiety levels. My face would get hot and itchy. Invariably I would be staring blankly at my paper as a nearby student would sometimes remark, “This is so easy”.

It. Felt. Awful.

Everyone else can do this, why can’t I?

How come I am so stupid that I can’t figure this out?

What’s wrong with me?

Insert negative thought and/or emotion here.

Looking back, I understand now that the other students weren’t trying to make me feel bad (I hope). In most cases, they were probably proud of themselves and what they could do. But as I struggled, it only made me feel worse.

I share this with my students at the beginning of the year to help them build math empathy. There will be times that they understand a concept very quickly, and other times where it will be a struggle. Some days they just aren’t with it, thinking about an important friend problem, family issue, or just being hungry. Other days they will be a math superstar. Nobody ever knows the full story of someone else. But if we build in some math empathy into our words, it can go a long way.

So we try our best not to judge the math, or the person. Instead of the phrase “this is easy”, we gravitate towards, “I think I understand this”. Instead of “This is so hard” we try, “I’m not sure where to start”, or “What I’m trying doesn’t seem to work. What am I missing?”. Just giving a classmate the solution is replaced with,”Explain to me what you have tried so far”. It can take weeks and months to change the language in the room, but the effort is worth it.

About five years ago I was leading the discussion with one of my classes about why saying “this is easy” can be so harmful to others. After wrapping up a productive discussion, one of my students remarked, “Wait, what’s your first name again?”

“Eric, but you won’t ever be calling me that…”

“And your last name starts with a Z?”

“Yes…”

“So, your initials are E.Z.?”

“Sigh…. yep.”

“So we can’t say easy in E.Z.’s class?!?!”

“Nailed it.”

“That’s wack.”

“I know, right? Ok, let’s get into today’s work on scatter plots and start measuring arm spans and then how tall you are in inches”.

“Don’t you mean our heighth?”

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Maybe…”

“Well played”.

I love middle school.