Shortage

It was always my favorite question to answer because I already knew my answer “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Growing up, I had everything figured out. I knew I wanted to be a teacher before I even knew what teacher's lives looked like. I grew up forcing my brothers to play school, to which they begrudgingly obliged. Once my brother’s got tired of me I moved on to my baby cousin, who was just happy to have someone’s attention. 

I never thought that achieving this dream would be this hard. I never thought that achieving my dream would lead to breaking so many pieces of me. Fresh out of college, I thought that finding a job would be a piece of cake. After all, it was 2022, COVID was finally winding down, and schools were desperate for teachers. Or so I thought. After a grueling summer of job applications, interviews, and rejections, I finally had an interview stick. I began working as a summer school para for a kindergarten classroom. While it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, I was all in. Once that opportunity ended, I took a long-term substitute position for a teacher who was on maternity leave. My stay in kindergarten was about to get six weeks longer. 

Being greeted every morning with 21 hugs is the best feeling in the world. On the flip side, being told you look sick whenever you don’t spend the extra 10 minutes on your makeup, is a humbling feeling that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Being thrown into a kindergarten position felt like boarding the Titanic as someone who traveled from the future. I knew exactly what all of the dangers were, yet I was still fascinated to learn. I was driven by the 21 smiling, giggling faces that called me mom on accident more times than not. 

God must have wanted me to stay in that school because the same week I was scheduled to transition out of my kinder room, a third-grade teacher had to step down to take care of her mom. I was temporarily put into the position and was told I would need to interview for that spot in six weeks. I was in heaven. While cleaning out a hoarder’s room in less than 24 hours to be ready for Monday morning wasn’t ideal, I took in every moment. When it was all set and done, I finally had my classroom. On a dark Friday evening in October, I put on an instrumental Taylor Swift playlist, sat at my empty desk, and cried. 

When January came, it was time to re-interview for the spot I had temporarily been in. I remember thinking how odd it was to have to interview for a position I was already filling, but little did I know that would become a running trend. Comfortable with where I was, I confidently interviewed not thinking twice about what the outcome would be. I got the news right after Christmas Break that I would get to stay for the rest of the year. It was a cold January Tuesday morning when I got to tell my students that they would have me for the rest of the year. We spent the second half of the semester studying for the MAP test, raising and hatching butterflies, and creating rube-goldberg machines to learn about friction and kinetic energy. As the weather got warmer, I steadily got more anxious about being rehired for the position I was filling. They needed another third-grade teacher, wouldn’t it just make sense to keep me? 

Unfortunately, that’s not how the education system works. I interviewed for the position on a Wednesday afternoon, hoping I would get to see my students off to fourth grade. I was looking forward to seeing them in the hallways each morning on the way to their new teacher. That Friday I was pulled into the office during my plan period and told that they went with a candidate who had more experience than me. I sat in the bathroom and cried alone for forty minutes until I had to go get my students from art. During the last week of school, the teacher who was moving into my classroom spent her time redecorating for the following year. I sat and watched her tear down my dream one piece of bulletin board border at a time. 

Another summer of interviewing with no luck. My interview dresses began to cycle at this point. I started taking interviews less seriously. I overheard that my previous school had ended up taking a first-year teacher for my former position anyway, despite their claims of needing experienced teachers. The amount of time I had wasted interviewing for schools that wouldn’t respond to me was piling up higher than my classroom wish list. In July of 2023, I was texted by a friend who knew a counselor at her previous elementary school. It was perfect. A one-year contract for a fourth-grade position. Only a year above where I was teaching. Finally. Everything was falling into place. 

Home of the Corgi’s, I proudly sported my new school colors on the first day of school. This year, my team had my back, and I felt like I was finally in the right place. I was the youngest teacher, yes, but I was listened to and respected. That is until the parents started having issues. You see, I took the place of a teacher who was known for what I will call “butt-kissing”. I was not born with that trait, nor will I ever try to attempt “butt-kissing” when it comes to my students. I have high expectations for them, and once those weren’t being met that’s where the problems began. No longer was I respected or listened to. Now the situation turned into, “let’s just please the parents this one time” That situation became four other situations. I felt like I was in the office every other week for responding to an email incorrectly or not following parent’s orders. 

7-year-old Allison would be appalled at what teaching was like today. The notes from loving parents and supportive students were kept in a binder, I decided to tough through the year. I talked everything up to being my first year here, and I eagerly awaited the contracts to come in April. 

The contract never came. Well, mine didn’t at least. Mine was the only one that didn’t come. I interviewed for the position I was in right after Spring Break. A weird wave of deja vu had washed over me as I made my way from my classroom to the conference room for the interview. “Show them what you’ve got Allie,” “They’ve watched you teach all year, you’ve got this” “They would be stupid not to keep you here, everything else is changing, so why not keep you?” were all valid thoughts and sentiments of encouragement as I came out of the interview. The following Monday, I was pulled out of my classroom to be told that I did not get the position. I started packing up my classroom that day.

While I have yet to find another teacher who is as dedicated, passion-driven, and motivated as me, I have also yet to find another teaching job. That, my dear reader, is the biggest moment of defeat in my life. Moments, if you will. So, you see, even though there was a teacher shortage, there wasn’t and isn’t a shortage of pain for me.