By Cooper Sved
In the summer of 2021, I sat on the floor of my alma mater’s basketball arena next to my mother and my partner, eager to graduate with my teaching degree. We were isolated and told to sit with our “pod” for the duration of the ceremony. As the convocation’s student speaker, I was one of the fortunate few who were able to leave their seat and remove their mask.
That fall, I was to assume a position in an unfamiliar school some 200 miles away. Despite graduating with honors, I had not once set foot in an elementary school classroom. That August, I oversaw my very own in-person class populated by panic-stricken, masked five-year-olds. Unsurprisingly, I crashed and burned.
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My First Year
The pandemic had neutralized my university’s ability to provide authentic on-the-job training. My student teaching internship had taken place exclusively in a virtual classroom, free from many of the organizational and disciplinary demands that define the job. Equally overwhelmed by our new normal, my mentor did her absolute best to fill in experiential gaps while learning how to teach virtually.
Professors also tried to modify syllabi, assignments, and expectations as much as possible. My personal lack of preparation was partially circumstantial, not indicative of the pedagogy or programming at my university. Still, I arrived at my new workplace late in the summer of 2021 without much direction.
My kindergarten students, newly thrust into an unfamiliar environment too, after spending most of their conscious lives at home, were visibly uncomfortable with the authority and structure of public education. COVID-19 precautions, still acutely present in this school district, stifled many students’ social, creative, and academic endeavors. Not only was I responsible for teaching how to read, write, and count, but I also had to soothe the anxious and frustrated minds of children who were rapidly losing their personal freedoms and comforts. I did so without much, if any, understanding of how classrooms functioned when they weren’t over Zoom.
The only character in my room with any real experience was my assistant, a decades-long stalwart of the school and its community. This poor woman watched, likely in horror, as I stumbled through lessons, mismanaged classroom activities, and cultivated a classroom culture that my administrators carefully identified as “needing improvement.”
Still, over time, I learned how to manage my room, differentiate effectively, and find the right balance between authority and care. With the support of my administration, some veteran teachers, and my all too patient assistant, I ended the year with only a few bumps and bruises. After moving to a new grade the following year, I’m happy to report that things have been running smoothly. My first cohort did, in fact, learn how to read, write, and count. I, in fact, learned how to organize, schedule, and teach with confidence.
Elementary Education: Expectations vs. Reality
I had assumed that my first year was anomalous, entirely a result of the bizarre circumstances of my COVID-era education. In the years following, however, I have watched several first-year teachers crash and burn, mirroring many of my experiences. Veteran teachers are not necessarily concerned by this, though. My co-workers who taught before 2020 will label this phenomenon as normal and necessary.
To many in the field, a poor first year of teaching is the first step in an accepted, almost ritualistic career timeline. Perspectives on a teacher’s first year seem to have shifted, though, since my generation entered the workforce. Not only are new teachers frustrated by their difficult first year, but they seem to find it entirely unacceptable. By the end of the experience, I’ve seen many teachers my age express interest in leaving the field of education altogether.
It’s easy enough to understand this rationale. No amount of extra professional development or coaching sessions will fix the frustrations brought on by misaligned, incongruent training. A modern first-year teacher does not want to feel inadequate after multiple years of study. Stress and frustration do not incentivize people to stay in a profession long-term. Adults, regardless of their age, want to feel like professionals.
We shouldn’t blame university programs for these problems, however. The United States is plagued by an inconsistent and highly localized education system. Every school district has a unique administration, philosophy, and resource ecosystem. What constitutes a “good” education is largely dependent on your location.
In reaction to the discrepancies of public education, universities must generate idealistic, shallow curricula for prospective teachers. They are forced to define a “good” education and prepare new educators for any number of possibilities at the district level. This results in the teaching of “best practices” within an unrealistically ideal classroom setting via videos, books, and conversation. Unfortunately, the “ideal” classroom context does not exist in reality, and much of what a teaching candidate learns must be adapted or disregarded upon finding a home district.
I don’t wish to downplay the importance of learning best practices, but first-year teachers generally enter the profession without a solid understanding of what their day-to-day work will even look like. This misunderstanding is amplified if you teach in a completely unfamiliar district, like I did. When I arrived at my new district for the first time, I had to familiarize myself with dozens of programs, curricula, initiatives, and resources in the single week leading up to our first day of class.
Veterans of public education do not expect first-year teachers to succeed because their circumstances are not conducive to success. The first-year teacher is not the one who suffers most from this system, however; it is the students themselves who take the brunt of the impact. In my personal case, my young students lost critical, foundational literacy and math instructional time. Not only does first-year incongruence and chaos drive people out of the profession, but it also contributes directly to learning loss at a time when students need every possible minute of high-quality instruction.
Teacher Attrition and Solutions
All of these factors culminate in some alarming trends. Early career educators are leaving the classroom at a rapid rate. Teacher attrition is at an all-time high, and is specifically pronounced in cohorts within their first five years of teaching. Both academic research and anecdotal data point to low morale and growing frustrations with the high work demand and poor pay of teaching.
First-year educators are entering an already stressed environment without the necessary preparation. These new professionals must constantly compare their work to veteran educators, their idealistic university coursework, and a growing industry of young teachers advertising themselves on social media. Given the combination of school environment, self-critical comparisons, and inadequacies in training, it’s no wonder why teacher retention remains a perennial problem in public education across North America.
Recent developments in teacher education do provide reason for optimism, despite what I’ve outlined here. Grow-your-own initiatives and teaching apprenticeships harness the power of contextual knowledge and learning through practice, respectively. School districts and colleges are developing new, innovative teacher pathways at a rapid rate.
Grow-your-own programs vary significantly in size, focus, and design, but are connected by a shared commitment to district-level teacher recruitment and development. They may be developed for a school district, as part of a local college or university, or as a state-level initiative. Teacher apprenticeships, sometimes created as part of a grow-your-own program, endeavor to recruit community members of all ages and backgrounds in order to provide them with professional experience and specific, district-aligned coursework.
These potential solutions may provide respite from the issues plaguing traditional university programs. There is much to be enthusiastic about, and we must do everything possible to keep these programs afloat.
My first-year self would be relieved to know that circumstances have changed and that my skill set has improved tremendously since the summer of 2021. I am also encouraged by the continued conversation on teacher attrition and the programs designed to solve it. Though our systems require significant reform, I hope that current and future first-year teachers are willing to tough it out and learn by doing the work.
Build strong relationships with students and faculty, lean on the veterans in your school, identify potential resources in your county, and remember that your work is significant and vital. Most importantly, in the words of Mr. Rogers, “look for the helpers.” The pedagogical, societal, and personal rewards are tremendous.
Cooper Sved teaches a first-grade special education inclusion class in northern Virginia. He is finishing his master’s in education policy studies at George Washington University. Cooper has interned for the Educational Testing Service and the U.S. House of Representatives. He currently resides in Washington, DC.
