My first (and last) year of teaching was a sad surprise. I wanted to be a teacher. I wanted to make a difference in young people's lives. I worked hard to get my degree and was excited when I got my first job! Let me describe the year I spent as a teacher in a public school.

Out of six periods at school, I taught five classes, with four preparations. I taught Geography to eighth graders, Economics to high schoolers (all three grades, Comparative Governments to high schoolers and two classes of History to high schoolers. During my "free" period, I had to patrol the halls to make sure students were in class where they were supposed to be. Before school started in the morning, I had school grounds duty about twice a week. Lunch periods brought either lunch room patrol, hall patrol or grounds patrol. My school days usually started at 7:30 and lasted until 4:00. I did all my class preparations, test and homework grading at home in the evenings and on weekends. In addition to the classes, I also had a homeroom group. I was Junior class sponsor. Since that class was responsible for the Junior-Senior Prom, we had to have frequent fund raisers in order to pay for the prom. Naturally I had to attend all those fund raisers, usually held on week-ends. Oh yes, I chaperoned at the Prom, also.

My classes averaged 20 to 30 students each. Multiply 25 by 5 and you get 125 students to work with. One hundred twenty five test papers, homework papers, not to mention parent conferences and phone calls.

I had some good students; ones who were interested in learning. I felt I was well liked by most students and got along well with other teachers. I was selected "Teacher of the Semester" by the students. They appreciated my support in the extracurricular activities and the work I put into making my classes interesting. Memories on one of my students still haunt me, however. He was an average student, making mostly "Cs" and wanted extra help so he could get his grade average up in order to get into college. I think I was able to give him three or four hours altogether.

There were other students that haunt me in a different way. These students never brought anything to class, not even pencil and paper, let alone textbooks. Homework was a laugh. Blank test papers might be turned in. One such student outweighed me by about 100 pounds. He would often curse me and started at least three fights in my classroom. He threatened me on several occasions. Reports to the principal accomplished nothing. His parents would not return my phone calls. Toward the end of the school year, the principal asked me to give this boy a passing grade in his class. The reason? Without my passing grade, he would not graduate and "they" did not want to keep him at the school another year. I wonder why?

My teaching contract was not renewed for the next year. I gave that boy, and a few others like him an "F".

Do teachers give 100%? I think most want to and many try. Perhaps more teachers would be willing to continue to sacrifice if they were met at least halfway by parents, by school administrators and by the public.

Learn more about this author, Martha Leonard.
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