Dave Stuart Jr.

Teaching Simplified.

Why Is This So Hard? On Workload, Pressure, and the Ways through the Woods

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This is a post about hope, but it won't always sound like it.

I've been teaching for eleven days so far this school year — we started, in-person, the day after Labor Day. And every day ends with me driving home or walking in the woods or zoning out at dinner, internally asking a variation on the same confounding question:

“Why is this so hard?”

Confounding is just the right word. The work this year “causes surprise or confusion in (someone), especially by acting against my expectations,” and it “mixes up (something) with something else so that the individual elements become difficult to distinguish.”

I expected the year to be different — but I didn't expect to be drowning in a way that I haven't felt since my first years.

I expected there to be change — but I didn't expect that the pedagogical patterns and the workload management strategies that I've long relied on would leave me defeated and behind at the end of each day.

Remember: this is a post about hope. But there's no sense pretending that the overall experience of being a teacher in 2020-2021 is pleasant so far.

In good company

About four or five days into this, I went to a colleague and said, “Gosh, I really did not want to get out of bed this morning. I kind of don't want to be a teacher right now. I just need to confess that.” My colleague responded, “Yeah, I was looking at other jobs last night.”

This was surprising to me. I figured I was the only one. I assumed beneath all of their masks were big smiles, like the one that I was putting on. This colleague that was job-searching — he's not the day-counter type. The whole “I'm 3,472 days away from retirement” thing — that's not him. The man is dedicated and passionate; he's been in pursuit of excellence all the years I've known him.

I began asking more people how they were doing. I was surprised at how few were doing well. The ones that were doing well, I started to ask them questions. But the answers involved techniques and strategies and tech integrations that were foreign to me. My list of things that I needed to learn grew like COVID at a maskless frat party.

So my experience was normal, I learned. But this did little to help.

There is a sense in which misery does love company. But even moreso, I think misery loves the reduction of itself and the return of shalom, of flourishing.

The twin problems and their vicious partnership

It turns out that the difficulty of this year isn't just a my-school thing, and it's not a thing having to do with the model we're using. I've heard from teachers around the country in all types of scenarios, and the consensus is the same. This is hard. It hasn't felt like this before. “This year can suck it.”

Here's what I think the difficulty comes down to; this is what we've got to grapple with together: workload and pressure.

Increased workload: more to do than ever

Whether you're all-online, in-person, or somewhere in between — and let's face it, in-person is somewhere in between because of the needed symptom-based protocols — you've got more to do this year than you've had to do before. I'm going to list some things — you probably don't have all of these, but you for sure have some.

  • More emails
  • More students
  • More digital content creation
  • More digital content curation
  • More assignments to grade
  • More feedback to give
  • More documenting
  • More organizing
  • More tech troubleshooting
  • More questions to answer
  • More variables to lesson plan for
  • More students with gaps in their preparation for what you do

Your list will vary based on your school's flavor of back-to-school 2020, but what's true is that you've got more to do.

To be clear, having too much to do isn't new to teachers. There's always too much to do in this job. That's basically why I'm a teacher-writer — because my loyalty to my wife and children means that I have to research the practices that matter most so that I can skip or satisfice the practices that don't, and so I might as well write about what I learn and discover in case it helps someone else.

But the workload this year is especially hard because the added task volume is A) not skippable, B) very difficult, or C) too new to know how important it is. I can't skip making a way for my quarantining students to access my instruction and coursework because every day in every class there is some new configuration of students who are there, students who are absent for unknown reasons, and students who are virtual during a health department-mandated quarantine.

And that task that I just mentioned isn't just not skippable — it's also really difficult. The tried and true pedagogy that has made my work progressively easier and more impactful during the last decade is proving unsustainably time-intensive in this new, weird limbo state called Teaching During 2020-2021. It's like I'm relearning how to do everything. And in case you can't tell, this has caught me unawares. And so I can read and reread Doug Fisher, Nancy Frey, and John Hattie's Distance Learning Playbook all day long, but guess what? It doesn't help. It sounds good — but what the authors are describing is an idealized pedagogy that right now I feel like I'd need a team of teachers to pull off.

There's not enough time in the day.

And that produces pressure.

Pressure on every front

The Yerkes-Dodson Law has always been true — that human beings need some pressure to perform at their best, but when they are over-pressured, their performance declines. What we're seeing this year is hundreds of thousand of experienced, high-quality teachers finding themselves on the wrong side of this curve in a way that they haven't been since their earliest years. Hyper-pressured and experiencing less for it — it's a place of pain.

This compounds with the fact that life is already pretty pressure-filled in Fall 2020. There's pressure in the social realm — e.g., politics or suffering colleagues — and in the realm of our intellect — e.g., so many new things to learn and tough problems to solve — and in the realm of our emotion — e.g., fear or sadness or anger or depression or anxiety — and in the realm of our body, and in the realm of the will — e.g., I can't have my wedding or my sports or my _____ the way I'm used to.

Work pressure + life pressure = a frazzled mind, a frazzled heart.

The vicious partnership

As I've said, pressure and workload are normal in teaching. But when either one increases rapidly, you end up really destabilized and seeing the other rise, too. They play off of one another.

Pressure makes our minds mushy. It makes giving in to distraction easier. It goads us into using brute force — working harder — to solve problems that require tactical savvy. And by doing this, pressure makes our workload increase. And an increased workload makes us constantly feel like there is too much to do and like we're not doing a good job. And that increases our experience of pressure.

So what happens if you find yourself in circumstances where both workload and pressure rapidly increase?

You wrestle with feelings you may not be used to. Confounded. Defeated. Hopeless. Blindsided. Stuck.

I'm not saying it's good. I'm not saying that the feelings are the reality. I'm just saying that those are the kinds of things you're likely to feel if you find yourself in a circumstance where workload and pressure increase simultaneously.

In other words, it makes sense that a lot of us aren't liking things right now.

What to do — or the ways through the woods

In normal circumstances, this is how it works.

  • The way to solve workload issues is to find opportunities for reducing, simplifying, focusing, skipping, satisficing elements of our workload until it becomes humanly possible. This takes time, clarity, creativity, collaboration, research.
  • The way to solve external pressure is to invest in the revitalization in all the parts of our being — physical, intellectual, emotional, social, spiritual. This takes learning and discipline. And the way to solve internal pressure is to assess our expectations and determine proper readjustments.

The good news is that these solutions didn't stop working all of a sudden. They'll still do quite well. The trouble is that it's just an especially hard set of circumstances in which to work them. Difficult, but not impossible.

So, let's work the problems.

First, we manage the internal pressure by resetting our expectations

Internal pressure is an “us” issue. We've got to be ruthless with it.

Look at this, from our colleague Cara Gregory via Twitter:

Me too, Cara.

A lot of the best teachers are getting crushed right now because the measuring stick we normally use isn't the one to use this year — not if we're going to stay sane, not if we're going to marshal the internal resources needed to make this year work as best it can, given the realities of our circumstances.

I'll say it: we may need to sacrifice or severely modify our pedagogy this year. I'm starting to accept this. I don't intend to become a distance teacher when this is all through, and there's zero chance of me becoming a guru of distance or blended learning in the next nine months. In other words, I don't need perfect or fast or best. I need a “good enough” that my students and I can work with.

So it's back to basics:

  • Can I provide coherent lessons and units for my students in which they read, write, speak, build knowledge, and argue about my assigned course material?
  • Can I do so in a way that works whether they are in-person or not?
  • Can I do so in a way that doesn't drive me crazy?

Those are the new benchmarks. They are the measuring stick.

They have to be.

At least for now.

Then, we manage the external pressure through taking care of ourselves

Times like this call for deeper, longer draws from the springs of well-being — not shallower, quicker ones. I know it's annoying to hear self-care-self-care-self-care-self-care all the time — partly because of the way it's often packaged as a set of “life hacks” rather than a discipline and a way of life. I'm not talking about lip-service self-care — I'm talking about special, sustained attention to the realities of human nature — that we are physical, emotional, social, intellectual beings far more than we are units of educational production.

We've got to approach this like learners. When someone you are with shares something that helps them in the physical or mental or emotional or spiritual or social elements of their lives, get out the notebook. Write it down.

I'm talking about learning. Experimenting. Being strict with our self-created schedules so that we have time for more than work. We've always needed to end work when we said we would — but now especially so. Deal with the consequences of not being done tomorrow — don't visit the consequences on your home and your family time tonight.

We can't let our work conquer our other commitments, the self withers. And boy does work ever seem bent on doing that this year.

Finally, we attend to the workload through disciplined learning, thinking, collaborating, and execution

Each of those matters.

  • Learning — how to upload a thing on Canvas, how to make a three-step workflow become a one-step.
  • Thinking — this looks like getting away from screens with a pad and a paper and attacking a single problem at a time.
  • Collaborating — there are people who are further with organizing their learning management system or their contact logs than you are — figure out who they are and ask them questions!
  • Execution — stuff like OHIO for emails and single-tasking during feedback are key.

That's all I've got. This article has been bubbling inside me for two weeks, and I've not had a minute to sit down and write it. I hope it's a contribution to your work and well-being. And I hope that, by its end, it became a bit of a post about hope.

Best to you,

Dave

Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. Susan says

    Thank you so much. I needed this today. I know I’m not alone. I need to feel okay to hate the way things are. I really need to get more sleep!

    Reply

  2. Susan L Hyde says

    Thank you for your words. And thank you for articulating what I have been feeling and stuggling with for the past five weeks. Usually, when someone asks how the school year is going, I am always ready with a heart-felt enthusiastic and positive response. This year, I have heard myself tell friends outside of school that I hate it. And I do. I hate not being able to see my students as they hover behind annoyingly flimsy deskguards. I hate not feeling as though I’m ever truly engaged with students because I can’t see their facial expressions as we talk. I hate the silence (is it just MY classes??!) that meets every request for discussion or opinions, as though every student is muzzled under those masks. I hate struggling for breath when I teach, and find myself saying as little as possible to avoid that feeling. I hate the hoops we must jump through at every turn, the most recent one being the requirement that my drama club actors and actresses wear their masks onstage during any performances. (!) Honestly, I feel beaten down at every attempt at normalcy.

    While I understand that it is all an effort to keep us healthy, there are days when I find myself thinking, somewhat absurdly I know, that our precautions might be worse than the illness itself. Although I see the laments of the remote teachers all over social media, is it crazy that I sometimes envy them? When the administration tells us to be ready to go remote any day, on particularly bad days, I secretly hope that day is tomorrow. I love to teach, and I love the opportunities it’s given me to get to know and help so many students in the nine years I’ve taught, but this year isn’t like the others. Quite literally the only thing that gets me up and to school every morning is knowing that my students chose to be here instead of choosing the remote option our district offers. As long as they want to be here, I’ll show up and do my best. But I think you’re right — taking care of ourselves and changing our expectations will save the day.

    I’ve taken to walking for 45 minutes every day outside. On the days it doesn’t happen, I can tell a difference in my attitude. While I used to try to add something new to my novel lessons every year, this year, I’m just extending grace to myself, allowing myself to reuse old lesson plans. There’s no one to blame, and as all the commercials tell us ad nauseum, we’re all in this together, so I know I’ll get through it, same as every other teacher out there. It is reassuring to know, however, that I’m not alone in my thoughts, and that behind those masks, there are some other teachers who are also not adapting well to our new normal.

    Reply

  3. Michele Fournier says

    You read my mind. I have cried at the end of every single day of ‘remote’ learning. It is really the word learning that should be in quotes because I am not sure the kids are learning much and all I learn each day is how much I hate staring at a screen at absolutely no faces –just emojis. Thank you for putting all of this into a format that affirms how I feel and yet also tells me that I need to make some positive steps so that I don’t totally lose my mind and my desire to continue teaching. You are a blessing.

    Reply

    • Dave Stuart Jr. says

      This line broke my heart, Michele: “The word learning that should be in quotes because I am not sure the kids are learning much and all I learn each day is how much I hate staring at a screen at absolutely no faces –just emojis.”

      Thank you for vocalizing the pain and giving colleagues more to relate to.

      Reply

    • Jennifer says

      Michele,
      I was in your same spot two weeks ago. On the edge of a complete mental breakdown. I had to make changes or else things were not going to get even slightly better. I walk early every morning. I’d rather do it after work to release stress, but I live in a literal desert. I am able to go to church in person that has limited seating. I sing at church. That has helped. I do not watch or listen to the news. It’s just a bunch of garbage at this point anyhow, in my estimation. Those three things have helped me enough that I am not going to resign today. I hope you can find peace among all of the unreturned assignments, shut down students, and unreasonable demands by admin.

      Reply

  4. Karen Keely says

    Bless you, Dave — important words that are much needed right now. I’m saving this post to read again next week … and probably again the week after that, and so on.

    Reply

  5. Beau larimer says

    Echoing your woods metaphor, if a teacher curses in frustration at tech teaching struggles in the empty forest does it make them feel better hahaha.

    TBH in the moment right after getting off the zoom lessons, in my weirdly empty silent classroom, I’ll sometimes let out a yell of frustration or string of curses or both (call it venting in a vacuum lol). All your points ring very true and feeling like I’m not alone in new challenges and that it’s okay to be kind to myself in my expectations are really helpful ideas to hear!
    The Dave!

    Reply

    • Dave Stuart Jr. says

      “Venting in a vacuum.” I love this phrase, Beau. AND I weirdly love the picture of you sitting in a room by yourself yelling cursewords at a computer — mostly because you’re a positive person and it makes me feel a bit more human. Just make sure the Zoom is fully ended 😉

      Reply

  7. Joy Duncan says

    I really appreciate this, Dave. I have been teaching some students in person and some remotely since Aug 27. At first it was horrible and I felt that every minute I was drowning. I am a special ed teacher so I think it is easier with small groups than a whole class. But still – my in person small groups are small and very far apart to keep everyone 6 ft apart and the masks and plastic shields in between us are so much worse than I thought. I teach a ton of phonics and reading and it is impossible to hear the difference between say a short e and short i sound though all the barriers.
    But I have to say that I am making some progress and see that I am able to reach most if not all of my students one way or another (putting my ear up to the top of the plastic shields -can ears get COVID?) and working on my students’ ability to project their voices. I have to believe that my students will continue to grow despite all the difficulties.
    Yes, it is so much more work for so much less and the documentation and other demands are so much. I am in my 2nd year teaching and I never signed up for this and should be getting a strong instructional foundation under my belt and all that good stuff that happens in the beginning. But no.
    I am trying so hard to both admit how hard it is – to accept that I will leave school with a huge to do list and that I just have to leave at a reasonable time most of the time for my own sanity – to feel that I am not growing as a teacher in the way that I had thought I would. I feel less effective than last year, which is not how it is supposed to work.
    I could go on but surprise surprise I have work to do!

    Reply

    • Dave Stuart Jr. says

      “I have to believe that my students will continue to grow despite all the difficulties.” Yes, Joy — we do have to believe this!

      “I am trying so hard to both admit how hard it is – to accept that I will leave school with a huge to do list and that I just have to leave at a reasonable time most of the time for my own sanity – to feel that I am not growing as a teacher in the way that I had thought I would. I feel less effective than last year, which is not how it is supposed to work.” My thoughts and prayers are with you. I am rooting for you to see it through past Year Two!

      Reply

    • Dave Stuart Jr. says

      Joy, there is so much that resonates here — what a beautiful piece you’ve written. I love where it turns — “I’m making some progress” — and I love your belief that students will continue to grow despite all the difficulties. I do think that that can be true. I don’t think you’re crazy for working on believing it, even on the frustrating days.

      I am rooting for you to get through this year two with the thoughtfulness and resilience you’ve demonstrated here. Thank you for sharing, Joy.

      Reply

    • Eric Rozsits says

      I’m in my second year as well and I can’t agree more with you. I feel as though I’ve taken steps backwards in my teaching ability and confidence that I built up my first year. I’ve been struggling as well this whole year (we have been 100% remote this whole time) and I really feel a sense of community just from reading the comments to this wonderful piece.

      Reply

  8. Kevin W.Willson says

    This is exactly what I needed to read as I started off my day today. As teachers we do need a new measuring stick…this is not normal and we have to realize that for our own mental stability.

    Reply

  9. Cara Gregory says

    Dave:
    I’m so glad to read your full thoughts on the blog. This week, I seriously considered quitting. I even checked into retiring early. It was a blessing to know I’m not the only one who had these terrible, overwhelming and guilt-inducing thoughts. It helped.

    I am so invested in this profession. Probably too much. Your focus on doing things the smart way, skipping things that aren’t truly necessary is a beacon I need to revisit often.

    I so appreciate your voice on Twitter and your ability to so aptly describe the “things” we need to do help ourselves and our kids thrive. Your post this week is definitely helping my long-term flourishing:) And that helps me help my kids. Keep on keeping on, Dave. All the best to every educator truly in the trenches right now!

    Reply

    • Dave Stuart Jr. says

      I’ve had the same thoughts and considerations, Cara. It’s disorienting to even admit that; I’m with you.

      The comments here on this post (and your thoughts from your principal on Twitter) are really helping me.

      Take care.

      Reply

  10. Barb says

    Thank you. Thank you! I have cried more in four weeks than I have in the last 22 years. And I’m lucky. I’ve got some great colleagues at work. Our work is all done in teach-alike teams and trying to get some of these teams to accept the “satisfice” model has been a challenge. I’m working at it, though.

    We are all online and I’m trying to meet with my kids one on one at least once a week. It is helping so much. In the Google Meets, most kids leave their cameras off and will not talk aloud. It is horribly demoralizing. In the Side Hustle Meet, many kids will turn on their cameras and mics. It is great hearing their voices and ideas. We can commiserate a bit and then talk about what’s big in their brains. There is even some two-way laughing going on. It has made this week better and much more fun.

    Thanks again for saying what is in my heart. It feels good to know others are struggling and that it really is hard.

    Reply

    • Dave Stuart Jr. says

      Hey Barb! It isn’t amazing actually seeing a student’s full face right now? Who would have thought such a small thing would become so precious. And two-way laughing? What a treat 🙂

      Take care my friend.

      Reply

  11. Dawn Fargo says

    Thank you, Dave, and everyone for affirming that I am not alone in my frustration. I have been seriously contemplating ending my 32 year career this year but I don’t want to go out this way–defeated and sad. I have never felt so ineffective in my life. I search everyday for some glimmer of success that I can build on the next day. The help of innovative colleagues who are not willing to give up without a fight has been so helpful to this tired, old, teacher. I read an article in the Education Update the other week on Lessons from Crisis. Arlene Elizabeth Casimir said, “We must sit in our discomfort to hear what our souls need.” This really resonated with me!! I will teach on!!

    Reply

  12. Trish says

    Dave, Dawn, Joy, and Other Great Educators,

    I really, REALLY needed this post, and I didn’t know I really, REALLY, REALLY needed to revisit all the comments, until I did.

    In the beginning of my 29th year, I, too, have contemplated retirement. To do so would mean financial hardship, but that’s how horrible the feeling of ineffective teaching is. Like Dawn, I am teaching fully remotely, 98 – 120 6th, 7th, and 8th graders social studies; I had been a F2F 8th grade SS teacher for the past 11 years. No faces on camera, parents hearing every word I say, technology difficulties, and not knowing the 6th and 7th grade curriculum, as I was told, just a few days before school began.

    I’m the most experienced of the virtual school teachers yet willing to try new approaches. My offers of developing PBL units and really trying to take advantage of the awesome possibilities that current situation could offer are not met with acceptance. My colleagues are wonderful people and awesome teachers, and I think there’s a lot of anger, disappointment, and fear that clouds the way forward.

    Like Joy, my students keep me pushing forward. They are angry, and scared, too; and maybe have fragile health that made the option our district offered the only option they had. They miss their friends and the comradery of school, and they also yearn for a break from family, even the ones with the best families imaginable; we all need a bit of private time. And they are trying really hard, and showing up, even with cameras off, which makes me want to deliver really awesome learning experiences like I always have. But I don’t have knowledge of two areas. The content I do know is shared with my students through in class simulations, Socratic seminars, debates, and projects. How do 33 students share their work in the virtual world? How will I get through all the curriculum? Even cutting it down to the bare minimums, how do we engage in tasks and then share our thinking? These thoughts begin again and then I’m paralyzed and overwhelmed.

    Sigh. It is comforting to know I’m not alone.

    Thanks for your work, everyone’s words, and the opportunity to contribute. I’m not on Facebook but do try Twitter. I’m going to check out your contributions there and maybe try an, “end of the day” tweet myself.

    Take care, be safe, and breath deeply.

    Reply

  13. Robert Vellani says

    Dear All: Yes, we are facing awesome challenges. But, respectfully, the on the ground dynamics are varied across the country about PLANS A, B, and C. North Carolina rumbles with returning to F2F soon. Yet, the General Assembly is not ramping up any safety measures.

    Death and sickness is not an option to my distress over Remote Learning. We cannot “lesson plan” ourselves as out this, work our way out of this individually, or “self care” our way out of this.
    COVID has exposed the tattered social fabric.

    Do we organize and get our stakeholders to vote for pro-pubic school candidates, or do we dream ourselves into Supermen and Women as we our profession goes up in flames?

    Reply

  14. Lora says

    Just read this today. 10th year science , 2nd year in Middle school. F2F except for one virtual class, scheduled during the day. Rewriting my curriculum once again. Complaining coworkers who don’t see the value in the kids or the work. I told my parents at the beginning of the school year that my word this year is GRACE…I have extended it to everyone but myself and my family. After reading this, I realize I need to just get what I can done and move on to another day. My F2F students are so happy to be back at school and so enjoy my humor as I do theirs….more important that we laugh sometimes then do the latest chromebook hack I found the night before. Thank you for acknowledging our feelings. Lora

    Reply

  15. Kathryn Durbin says

    I read this blog post last week after a colleague sent it to our English department (and our principal). It is exactly what we (and admin) need to hear this year. This morning, my sister (who is teaching an online class during her planning period) got to work at 6:30am, opened a long email from her principal and an instructional coach about scheduling regular observations, broke down, and texted her boss that she was taking the day off to preserve her mental health. She texted me and said she is spending the day applying for nonteaching jobs online. Why don’t some administrators understand? This is not a normal year, the pressures are already high, and adding to them is literally killing people’s will to stay in this profession. This year is my 20th year teaching and I have never wanted to do something else so badly as I do this year. Thank you for your insight – I appreciate knowing that I am not alone in my frustration.

    Reply

    • Dave Stuart Jr. says

      I think that administrators are feeling similar disorientation from workload and pressure — but also, they are more used to it that us because many of them worked through the summer to prepare for this unpredictable year.

      They are adversely affected by this system, too. It is so important, then, that they relentlessly lead from a place of empathy and realistic optimism.

      Reply

  16. Jennifer says

    Kathryn, I agree with you completely. I do not hear from my admin. I’m stuck in my home 3 days as week teaching remotely. Two days a weeks I teach remotely from my packed up classroom. I’ve been at this gig for nearly 27 years, so retirement is an option. I mentioned to someone that I’d rather hand out stickers at WalMart. It is ridiculous to be held responsible for kids who do not returned work, and who refuse to show up virtually, who are under lock down duress like their teachers. We have over 2/3 of our grade level flunking. How can I change that? The progress report only prompted 5-6 kids to start working more.

    Reply

    • Dave Stuart Jr. says

      Jennifer, I am so sorry to hear this and I understand all to well the tempting call of Walmart that you describe. A system bent on “holding people responsible” via grades and punitive measures is a system that has lost its way. Some things can be done via coercion, but education is not one of those things.

      Reply

  17. Zuleyha Tulay says

    Dear Dave, thank you very much for this insightful article. I’m a lecturer at a university in Istanbul, Turkey.
    I have posted and pinned one of your sentences on my Google Keep “We are physical, emotional, social, intellectual beings far more than we are units of educational production”.

    I hope to remind this to myself regularly to manage the pressure of this academic year.

    Best,

    Zuleyha

    Reply

  18. Jordana Benone says

    I want to thank you for this article! I sent it to my colleagues and they texted back with immediate appreciation. I do want to offer you something in return however. If Fischer and Frey’s “Digital Learning Playbook” isn’t doing enough to help you through this difficult time (and it certainly did not help me very much), you might consider The Perfect Blend by Michelle Eaton. This book and her resourced have made me feel confident and like I had some answers to many of the challenges that face. Check it out! #ThePerfectBlend

    Reply

  19. Antonin says

    Why oh why are we being micromanaged by our ADMINISTRATION?? You slip up one time and they raise hell. They sit in every one of our classes and CT meetings telling you what to do all the time. Much of their suggestions are malpractice in this day and age. Disgusting.

    Reply

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