Verified by 
What she told me sounded about par for the course of what I went through on my worst days.
I didn’t want to inconvenience someone like that again.
As a special education teacher, I have not missed a day of work this year. It’s not like I’m a stickler for attendance, but I would much rather not deal with the inconvenience it gives a sub. And during virtual learning, showing up to work means rolling out of bed, eating a couple of Oreos, putting in my contacts, brushing my teeth, and then turning on my computer.
It’s a simple fact in education that when teachers don’t show up to work, it inconveniences everyone. I’ve taught in schools that don’t have much substitute teacher availability, and when we had a third of our teachers call out, the daily operations of the school would become hell. I’d find myself watching, or babysitting 50 kids whose names I didn’t even know, reprimanding them if they went into the hallway, and half-heartedly try to make them do worksheets that weren’t in my content area.
I understood that life happens. My colleagues and friends went through personal problems, like divorce or health problems with their kids. As a young, healthy almost 24-year-old, I am privileged in many ways. But still, I had to make a decision whenever I was actually sick. Do I still show up to work still, or do I take one of my sick days and call out? Clearly, I chose the former more, and that’s because I knew I would end up causing a lot of problems by not showing up that day.
And I’ll be honest—there was a small part of me that was resentful I had to be a glorified substitute for a class that wasn’t my own, again, with no emergency lesson plan and no relationship with the kids I was watching. Eventually, it would happen so often I did build a good relationship with most of the kids, but still, it wasn’t my job. I felt like such a bad person for feeling frustrated at the person struggling with mental health issues or going through personal issues preventing them from going to work. I felt frustrated at teachers who quit mid-year and left a void of classes that needed to be covered or absorbed. I knew it wasn’t their fault—the school system simply needed more substitutes, or better alternatives when a teacher called out or quit.
In education, teachers face this question all the time—do I take a day off, or do I just tough it out? It’s early in my career, and I’m not tenured yet. As such, I’m scared about the potential professional repercussions of taking the day off.
However, that mindset misguidedly presumes not taking personal days and days off helps the issue of chronic absenteeism in teachers. Walt Gardner at Education Week notes the reason why—when teachers are absent, substitute teachers can rarely provide the same instruction. Teachers, however, have to be very aware of burnout, which often happens to teachers who refuse to take time off even when they’re not feeling well.
“I say that because burnout is a slowly developing, cumulative condition. Teachers who deny what they are feeling tend to eventually take early retirement,” Gardner says.
So it’s in the long-term sustainable interest of teachers, of the education system for teachers not to be burnt out. Gardner notes it’s people like me who are the most prone to burnout—early career teachers who come into the profession idealistic, then have those romantic expectations and ideals shattered by the daily constraints of the classroom, the paperwork, and how all the passion and dedication in the world is not going to heal education.
One statistic often floated around is that charter school teachers have three times less chronic absenteeism than public school teachers, but Gardner counters with the notion that charter school teachers choose to send their kids to charter schools and are more likely to be invested in kids’ education. As every public school teacher can tell you, there isn’t the same guarantee for public school teachers.
In my district, our contract guarantees us 10 sick days. And we get the summers off. While I understand life happens, I want to reiterate that a basic expectation is showing up to work. I know how stressful teaching is. There’s tired for regular people, and then there’s teaching tired that comes with all the mental and emotional stressors of the job.
I know people who have been through the military, gone through their Ph.D. programs with ease, worked multiple jobs while providing for their children. But it was teaching that broke them. I consider myself a pretty resilient person who has been through significant life challenges. Teaching almost broke me, multiple times, and the fact that I’m still standing is simply a result of the desperation of needing the job and sheer luck.
I believe we ask too much of our teachers. Teachers aren’t social workers, parents, or security guards. In the wake of mass school shootings, there’s always a debate over whether teachers should be armed and be trained to have guns. And it shocks me that people even consider that a possibility—the job description is that you teach, not stop a potential school shooter.
I understand the plight of many parents who may be frustrated with the process of school reopening and teacher’s unions right now. But I have been in schools where kids can’t drink out of water fountains because there’s lead in the water. I have been in schools where the sight of mice and cockroaches is the norm, not the exception, where ceiling tiles are half broken and hanging off the ceiling. I understand right now that the political pendulum is starting to turn against teachers and teachers’ unions, and I will go back to hybrid teaching for my students who need those supports gladly, in about a week. But the basic demand is that schools reopen safely, not that schools don’t reopen, so the perception of teachers as science deniers needs to stop.
But I digress. I doubt the issue of teacher attendance is going away any time soon. According to Catherine Gewertz and Sarah Schartz at Education Week, there’s a lot of guilt teachers feel whenever they need to take time off. Teachers are urged to take care of themselves, but taking a day off, especially for early-career teachers, comes with so much stigma they would rather not do so. What happens when I’m going to need surgery and when I’m going to need to see a doctor?
Well, good teachers also take care of themselves, since research shows less stressed teachers lead to less stressed students. Despite the distaste taking a sick day might engender among administrators or other staff, each teacher needs to do what’s best for them and their health, because that’s what’s best for their students. Teachers may have heard horror stories about how angry bosses have gotten when they take sick leave. But it’s not like taking two days off because of the flu is going to get you fired—the only thing worse than taking two days off is toughing it out, getting sicker, and ending up in the hospital.
I certainly know not every workplace situation is like my first school. But I am also aware that you’re not doing anyone a service when you come to work sick, either. If taking a day off inconveniences your colleagues, so what? You’ll be there to support and cover when they take their days to handle health or personal issues as well.
I’ve shed my previous conception of being a teacher as isolated to the silo of my classroom and my students because that’s wrong. Each workplace and each staff is a community that’s on the same team and has the same mission. It’s not a competition over who can suffer the most and come to work even when they’re having a crisis and not feeling well—it’s about how each school staff can see the big picture and be a sustainable team. After all, it’s a huge problem when sick days become severely sick days—and I would want other teachers and bosses to be understanding of me when life happens and when I get sick, too.
