Lost happiness

Today I walked into my form class and after greeting my students was told by one of them, “You seem happier today, Miss Bell.” She reassured me, after I asked her if that meant I usually looked unhappy, that I was usually “this” – hand level with her nose – “happy” but today I seemed “this” – hand level with her forehead – “happy”. I felt mildly reassured but, to be honest, her observation left me thinking. I have not been happy at school recently, and it is troubling if, even for a moment, students are picking up on that.

About 5 weeks ago I was so discouraged by my Upper Sixes’ lack of care, respect and interest in their work that I told them to leave class and only come back to next week’s lesson if they were ready to engage and be responsible for their chosen subject of English Literature. The experience of kicking them out of class and the serious talk I gave them before I did left us all a little shell shocked.

Last week, 3 Upper Sixes who I knew and taught or supervised in extracurricular activities, lied to my face. They were part of a secret society at the school known for its humiliating interviews and one of them used this society as an excuse for her lie. At first I was furious, then, I was deeply saddened. What kind of people are we producing with our structures and systems in this school?

I dread my AS Literature lessons with my lower sixes. An hour and forty minutes of eleven pairs of eyes, six of which stare half closed with boredom and lack of any life; of pained sighs; of vain bribing and cajoling. I am frustrated and disappointed throughout. And, being so, I struggle to exude any joy for poetry or words or students.

I love my Form Four class – they are full of life and we have a good relationship. Then I went to their Form Four dance and not one came to say hello. The whole six hours. Okay, they’re teenagers – of course their friends are much more important than their English teacher. I understand that in my head. But still.

My dorm prefects do not seem to care about their role. They do not act like the role models and leaders I long for them to be. I feel as if I try so hard to make this a better, safer place for all who live here, and they just don’t care.

My disappointment with so many students and expecting so much more – sometimes just a little more – has sucked the happiness out of my teaching this last half term – and that is a terrible thing. If I can’t find joy in my classroom, where on earth do I go? What on earth do I do?

I long to teach in a place where students love to learn, where I am positively impacting, where relationships are meaningful, where students are encouraged to be kind and compassionate and just above everything else. I know in my heart there is no perfect school and perhaps much of my discouragement at the moment is in myself and my feeling of failure. They’re only sixteen/seventeen/eighteen. I’m the adult. I’m supposed to be the inspired, inspiring, happy one.

It is the end of term. A sorely needed holiday will, no doubt, give me some perspective and, hopefully, restore some happiness in the thing that gives me most joy in the world. Right now, let’s not think about school or students. Bring on the wine, chocolate and mind-numbing reality television.