麻豆传媒入口

Early in my teaching career, I made my second-grade class cry.

I didn鈥檛 mean to. I was teaching a lesson on writing with detail. My students鈥�7- and 8-year-olds living in a big city, many of them in poverty鈥攚ere sitting around me in a circle, notebooks and pencils in their laps. We were at the beginning of the unit, and I was modeling the process of coming up with an idea.

鈥淎s writers, sometimes it helps to think of a time when we had a big feeling, like being happy, or angry, or sad.鈥� I scrunched up my mouth, nodding: I was thinking really hard. 鈥淟ike... let鈥檚 see. Well, I remember how I felt when I heard that my grandma had died. I felt really sad.鈥� I uncapped a marker and scribbled notes on the whiteboard in my lap: Grandma died. Sad. 鈥淢aybe I鈥檒l write about that moment. And I鈥檒l include lots of details, like there were tears in my eyes, or how I couldn鈥檛 stop petting my cat.鈥� I wrote on my whiteboard. Details: tears, petting cat.

My students were looking at me with total attention鈥攕omething that didn鈥檛 happen often. I pressed onward. 鈥淥r, maybe鈥斺��

Suddenly, a little voice piped up: 鈥淢y uncle died.鈥� I looked up. It was a boy who often had trouble focusing. 鈥淗e got shotted and he died.鈥�

Silence.

And then I saw that there was a tear running down his cheek.

After a moment, I said, 鈥淚鈥檓 so sorry to hear that.鈥� I took a breath. 鈥淢aybe鈥斺��

Another voice鈥攁 little girl鈥檚鈥攃himed in. 鈥淢y grandpa died,鈥� she said. 鈥淏ecause of cancer.鈥�

I nodded.

And, then, suddenly, all of my students were talking at once.

鈥淢y auntie died.鈥�

鈥淢y auntie died, too!鈥�

鈥淢y cousin鈥檚 baby died before it even got borned!鈥� And then a sob.

And then all of my students were crying at once. They were sniffling, blubbering, wiping snot on聽their sleeves. My classroom was filled with the pained, contagious cries of children whose emotional floodgates had burst open.

And I had absolutely no idea what to do.

Clearly, the lesson鈥檚 ship had sailed: We were not going to be talking about writing. Instead, I had to figure out how to comfort and corral聽a hysterical group of children鈥攚hile seeming like I had everything under control. And I had to figure this out within the next 10 minutes, when the bell for recess was going to ring.

Suddenly, a particularly sensitive little boy, his cheeks stained with tears, stood up and ran to the corner, then slid down to the floor and put his head between his knees.

And as I watched him, helpless, I thought,聽鈥淚f only I could do that.鈥�

The Emotionality of Teaching

All this time later, years after leaving the teaching profession, the memory of that day still gnaws at me. Had I set students up for emotions they weren鈥檛 prepared for? What messages had my words鈥攁nd my actions聽and reactions鈥攃ommunicated? What should I have done differently? I remember little about my academic instruction that year鈥攖he subtraction lessons, the spelling tests鈥攂ut the memories of that day聽and so many other deeply emotional experiences that year聽have lingered.

Because that, more than teaching kids how to read and write, is what teaching is all about: reaching clear to the heart of another human being and using everything you鈥檝e got to make a difference. It鈥檚 calming kids when they鈥檝e had a rough recess, celebrating when they lose their first tooth, absorbing their struggles and their traumas, channeling their joy, and investing the currency of your own emotions in an effort to help them grow.

It鈥檚 what sociology professor Arlie Russell Hochschild, in her 1983 book The Managed Heart, first called 鈥渆motional labor鈥�: managing one鈥檚 own feelings in order to manage others鈥�. It鈥檚 work that is often invisible and almost always undercompensated鈥攁nd it鈥檚 also really, really hard.

For Allison Jacobs Friedmann, who has taught elementary and middle school in Boston for 20 years, teaching is walking an emotional tightrope鈥攁nd her description of a day at work sounds as though it鈥檚 lifted from Hochschild鈥檚 book. 鈥淓very day, 20 to 25聽children arrive at your door, and each is bringing a range of emotions,鈥� Friedmann explained to me recently over email. In order to reach each of these students, teachers must not only respond to鈥攁nd often gently guide and correct鈥攕tudents鈥� behavior, she says, but also do so 鈥渨ith a calm and consistent tone. You have to be unemotional in order to make space for their emotions.鈥�

The job description is to provide academic instruction, but the most complex, difficult-to-master aspects of teaching involve guiding students 鈥渢o be little emotional managers,鈥� Hochschild told me. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e teaching them their ABCs, but also how not to spin out of control, how to forgive, how to negotiate, how to take things one step at a time.鈥�

And teachers have to do all of this鈥攆or every one of their students, often all at once鈥攚hile also managing their own feelings. 鈥淚f you鈥檝e had a terrible day at home,鈥� says Hochschild, 鈥測ou set that aside for the child in front of you, who comes in with his or her own story.鈥� Her comments allude to one of the most difficult paradoxes in education: It鈥檚 a profession that elicits strong emotional reactions from its practitioners while also requiring that, for the sake of the students鈥� well-being鈥攏ot to mention the decidedly unappealing prospect of an out-of-control classroom鈥攖hey demonstrate the illusion of unflappable calmness and control.

Where Power Resides

As I was planning this article, I was thinking I would ask for expert advice on the ways that teachers can avoid this fate by, say, setting appropriate boundaries or examining their own emotions in order to manage them more effectively.

But when I asked Hochschild for some tips, her response took me by surprise. 鈥淚 wouldn鈥檛 say that鈥檚 the right way to look at it at all,鈥� she replied. She explained that teachers鈥攚ho, apart from students and parents, tend to be the furthest from the center of school power鈥攁re the 鈥渟hock absorbers鈥� of an overwhelmed system. 鈥淧eople can blame the teacher because too much expectation has been placed on the school system,鈥� she said. In other words, when students fail to get what they need鈥攆rom their families, from schools, from society as a whole鈥攖eachers are expected, unfairly, to pick up the slack. And when they inevitably fail to do so, they feel personal and professional guilt, which they must suppress for the broader good: Emotional labor begets more emotional labor.

And the further you are from the locus of power, the fewer supports in the system and the more emotional labor you wind up doing, according to Hochschild. This is why, for instance, teachers in high-poverty districts鈥攚here many feel like they鈥檙e oppressed by overwhelming systemic obstacles鈥攐ften report higher degrees of burnout than their counterparts in more privileged districts. This framework also explains why teachers, direct caregivers who are generally undervalued by society, are expected to take their students鈥� struggles personally鈥攚hile doctors, direct caregivers with a relatively high degree of social status, are not expected to magically cure patients made sick by their surroundings.

Systemic Problems, Systemic Solutions

Because the issue of emotional labor is systemic, Hochschild concludes, the answers need to be systemic too. Although teachers should always expect to bring their humanity and vulnerability to their job, they can鈥檛鈥攁nd shouldn鈥檛鈥攂e expected to alleviate the pressures that cause them to feel such disproportionate ownership over their students鈥� emotional lives. Instead, we need to address the fact that the system expects teachers to do this in the first place.

That starts, Hochschild says, with creating 鈥渁n atmosphere in which teachers have a voice and feel respected. What makes emotional labor gratifying rather than burdensome is a functioning care system.鈥� Only when this is in place, she says鈥攚hen teachers are no longer 鈥渋n a defensive crouch, but feel like they鈥檙e part of a larger team鈥濃�攚ill the proper emotional and psychological support structures be available.聽This is starting to happen, she says, in forward-thinking districts where, she says, teachers鈥� expertise is respected; as a result, teachers are able to assess their own strengths and weaknesses, manage their well-being more proactively, and pursue their professional growth. In other words, when teachers can shoulder a normal, appropriate range of emotional stress鈥攂ut are not expected to take responsibility for the ills of society鈥斺�渋t means the system is healthy.鈥�

But according to most teachers I spoke with, a healthy system is nowhere to be found. 鈥淏ecause society does not meet all my students鈥� basic needs, they come to school with heavy emotional loads,鈥� Friedmann said, reflecting on the growing sphere of her responsibilities and the lack of a proportional response from the school. 鈥淎nd then it becomes my job to help them manage all those very large feelings.鈥� Jianan Shi, who taught high school in Boston and Chicago before transitioning into nonprofit work, agrees. 鈥淲e are fighting in the context of fundamental human rights聽which are not being delivered.鈥�

I often think about my second graders from that year, those children mourning the people they鈥檇 lost. I could have done a lot more for them, I know, in that moment, that year.

At times I feel that I failed them. Other times I feel that I did the best I could. Often, I feel both of these things at once.

But what I know with certainty is that I wasn鈥檛 up to the task of absorbing, reflecting, and redirecting the feelings of wounded 7-year-olds. I was their teacher, and I loved them deeply, but I couldn鈥檛 compensate for all the injustice in their lives.

To help them鈥攁nd they鈥檙e big now, those kids, much bigger and stronger than their second-grade selves鈥攚e must be willing to look for bigger solutions too, beyond the narrow confines of classrooms to the broader contours of society itself. And as we check our progress, we should never compromise on the health of our teachers, who are鈥攊n every way鈥攖he system鈥檚 vital heart and soul.