It’s been about four months since this semester started—four months as department head. At the onset, I was pretty nervous. As soon as I got the position in the spring, I was ready to take on responsibility. Though the previous chair did not want to put anything on me since I was not getting paid—I found it surprising that he did not accept or refuse my services to help?
I was more or less looking to intern or be under his wing to at least get a grasp of the situation. I attended one meeting about the master schedule for the 21-22 SY. But that was it. No transition. No tasks. No passing of information. With the lack of insight or guidance, I took it upon myself to start working on our book inventory. It felt good to refresh my office skills. I collaborated with our librarian to create a spreadsheet of the texts we knew were available—though we know that post-March 2020 lockdown and distance learning, there was no real way to gauge the exact inventory outside of our site’s digital database.
My predecessor was grateful, again expressed guilt as he got the extra pay and not me. But it was not my kindness or eagerness to learn, rather, the anxiety from the looming responsibility that scared me.
I know a lot comes with an admin position—and combine that with being a full-time classroom teacher. I was scared. And like the day I got hired, he pulled the same stunt. I asked for any [transitional] information or responsibilities I should be aware of. And he redirected me to two predecessors (one that doesn’t work at our school anymore) that he said would have better information or insight on our roles & responsibilities.
So the past four months have been me paving my own road. Placing the bricks one by one. And turning to my community when I need help. Our first remote meeting at the start of the school year, one of my colleagues stepped into his role as a new assistant principal. Out the starting gate, he exuded leadership, transparency, and reliability. It was not even a breath of fresh air, more like he established his expectations and tone before anyone could speak back—I was inspired and afraid.
“I could never,” I thought to myself.
But another Asian American man, my old classmate, became an administrator at our school. He was already an exemplary teacher, and I looked up to him then. How could I possibly be as good a leader if I’m not even as great a teacher as him? A lot of internalized oppression is inhibiting me from doing my job. But I had to convince myself to convert it into a positive-motivating force. Draw from his leadership and make it my own.
My family, friends, and colleagues constantly reminded me that I was the best fit for this role. That everything I have done over the past few years through professional development is what got me to this point. But I didn’t feel like any of those things taught me how to be a leader amongst adults—despite all the leadership positions I have held throughout my young adult life.
These four months have taught me a few things:
- There’s nothing to be afraid of
- Because a lot of these ‘grown-ups’ act like children
- Entitlement and seniority is not a reason to be afraid to speak out
- “Step up and step out”—is something I said in high school at a summer leadership camp. And I need to do that now.
- Not everything requires a response—especially emails.
- 40-something-year-olds will hate and resent you for no reason
- especially out of spite, envy, entitlement, seniority, or change
- Change is good
- and creating systems that work more efficiently for me will be better for the department
- I shouldn’t wait for the administration.
- The education system is pretty fucked. And I thought I didn’t have clear guidance on my responsibilities, but there’s really no clear guidance on anything.
- I lay down the law
- I create and guide my department. I should take initiative in enacting change
- My ideas are only the first step, I need to take action
- I’m not doing as bad as I thought
To the last bullet and the title of this post, I have concluded that it’s really not that bad. I’m definitely tired, but I feel like that’s because of the commute. Last week, the director of the EL department expressed frustration about our English teachers not completing their reclassification forms for their EL students. In past years, every person complains about:
“[we] should get paid extra for this”
“The expectation that we will do extra work just because we are told to — when there was no discussion or negotiation, no explanation, no involvement in the plan — feels unacceptable to me.”
“[Anyone]who has an extra prep period for attending to EL related matters.”
The teachers in my department
At the unfortunate expense of my colleague getting berated in an email thread, I realized that I had not gotten one of those all semester. Every instance of a Karen or entitled teacher in my department, I’ve either found/worked on a solution or shut it down. And this time, I stand by it. Peep the redacted email:
I’m nowhere near where I want to be as a department head. And I have a long way to go. It’s taken a lot for me to “step up and step out” as high school me said. But it’s reassuring to know that I’m doing alright. I’m getting a lot of positive feedback from colleagues, telling me I’m doing a great job. But I honestly don’t know what they’re seeing that I could even consider ‘great’ when the most my predecessor did was pass along information and victimize himself for being the messenger.
I’ve realized I’m missing many pieces to this job and that my predecessor failed to pass along a lot of new protocols and procedures my way. Now I’m the person who has to set things straight in his absence of work.
I’m not here to dangle a carrot to encourage these entitled boomers and gen-xers. I’m here to make a change for the students. And I hope that my time in this role will help establish that.
“Let’s hope I can actually enact [more] change”
The caption on my IG post at the start of the school year.
Thanks for reading. Hopefully, I can write and post more about what I’ve learned as a new teacher.
Balasbas Says 