To Label or Listen to Negativity?

I wanted to quit teaching. I wanted to quit teaching probably for the first full five years I taught (entering year 13 next year... for reference). Once, I was even offered a job as a consultant for an education advisement firm - I had the paperwork in my hand, the insurance details, everything. I backed out at the last minute because why bother?

I wanted to quit teaching. I came home every day disheartened. I saw students who needed more help than I could provide with reading, writing, food, clothing, shelter, discipline, motivation, and self-esteem. I saw gaps in how we were teaching, what we were teaching, why we were teaching. I saw endless miles of paperwork, and I knew there were endless miles of little round bubbles that needed filled in meeting endless standards.

I wanted to quit teaching. I told my colleagues I was looking. I told my family I was miserable. I told my friends the plight of the public educator ad nauseam until they were begging me to quit my job and wait tables. Anyone who knew me during my first five years as an educator knew that I was overwhelmed, jaded, depressed, and disappointed. I garnered great piles of pity.

I was, for all intents, the negative teacher so many professional development books talk about today. I was not vocally tearing everything apart in every meeting, but I was sulking in the hallways, and I have most certainly complained in the faculty lounge.

Perhaps, this is why I cringe when the word "negative" is thrown around as a label to teachers who are currently in this place. I've been there. I was the negativity in the room at times.

I did not quit teaching in spite of how loudly I bemoaned it and how disappointed I felt regarding it those first few years. It wasn't because there was a great paradigm shift in education. It was because I found someone who would listen.

I did not quit teaching because someone helped me see that while students needed more help than I could provide with any number of needs - I could be some hope, and I could show them paths to meeting those needs, and I could be offer more than just more darkness. They listened to my complaints and what I felt was the impossibilities of the career I'd chosen - and they showed me that I had power. Complaining is indicative of helplessness.

I did not quit teaching because someone helped me hear myself when I was complaining, reminded me that I cannot do everything, and that I have to take care of myself before I can begin to take care of others.

Do I still complain? Sure. I'm just a bit more mindful now about it. I catch myself in the complaint, and start to formulate my solutions to my problems in the classroom. I'm not a perfect person - and years of complaining is challenging to break.

But, the point is that instead of labeling me as the bad apple and dismissing my voice, someone chose to listen to me. They did not just hear my disappointment, my anger, my complaining about the paperwork, they heard my exhaustion and feeling of helplessness and showed me how to get out of it.

Before we label someone - student, colleague, staff - a complainer or a negative influence - we must listen to them, and ask ourselves how we can empower them. What are they really complaining about? What can we do to help them realize that they have the power to change themselves, their classroom, their school? What can we do to help them realize that their voice is noticed and is important? When complainers realize they're being heard, that their complaints have registered and it isn't that they'll be solved by someone else, but that they have the power to solve them on their own - that's powerful.

Be a listener, not a labeler.