edutwist.com - teaching and technology

You may not see it yet, but there’s an elephant in the room.  And true to the idiom, no one is talking about it even though it stinks.

When our district’s technology director announced forthcoming layoffs due to budget cuts, it meant that at least 15 out of the 55 of the technology integrators will be losing their positions as of July when our contracts end. The basis for the layoffs will be seniority in the county (no consideration given to performance, credentials, total years of teaching experience in other locations, or merit/record of service).  As a relatively new employee in the district (3 years), my dream job as an instructional technology integrator was coming to an end.

In painful irony, we were told this at our December meeting, our holiday celebration for the team.  I guess you could say it was the managerial version of Santa gone bad, giving out disparaging chunks of coal in our holiday stockings.  (Merry holidays! Now go home and plan for the new year!)

Cruelty dangles in the form of hope… Some of us have settled into a comfort zone of denial because nothing has been voted on or decided by the school board yet, and none of us has received an official pink slip. So until January 27 when the board meets to make its decision, some of us cling to the elusive possibility that maybe someone will realize how much teachers need our support and that our students need our 21st Century focus to energize the curriculum, and, yes, all 55 of us are necessary to cover 64 schools.

Any hope, however, borders on foolish idealism: The reality is that the county budget is $52 million in deficit and Governor Tim Kaine has slashed the state budget in the area of public education, so the county won’t have financial access to its usual share of state funds. It’s clearly obvious that something, somewhere has got to go.

Here’s where the elephant comes into the room. None of us is really discussing the way we feel. No one wants to talk about it, so the budget situation seems even less real, like someone else’s distant problem. The elephant grows. When we’re together, the discussions center around other routine topics (who’s doing which workshops, what’s on the calendar for next week, which software is suitable for a project, etc.), or we tippy-toe on the surface of the layoffs: we make casual predictions about who will be leaving, or join in a litany of complaints about the way the county is run, but we avoid probing any deeper; meanwhile the elephant starts smelling like an oversized stinkbomb…

What about our feelings on a gut level, at the primal core? Is anybody else besides me feeling crushed, confused, scared, or angry? Is anyone else going through emotional fallout affecting everyday life? Can we please talk about this and share our different realities? Even if you’re not feeling what I feel, it would help to know that you’re aware of my feelings. Let me prod and poke a bit at the elephant. I’m going to lay it all out and be honest.

Here we are, 55 integrators, with over 25% of us slated to be gone by next year. I know I’m on that list of 15 because of my short number of years with the county. I know that my life is going to change radically on a personal level, but the silence belies the fact that others are avoiding the reality as if it won’t affect them.

Even for those on the team who won’t be laid off, however, the reality will rock their world, too. Our team of integrators will be redistributed and reorganized, and each person will be responsible for more territory and a fuller schedule. But that’s not all.

Throughout the school district, class sizes will swell and the number of assistants will diminish, and almost everyone will either shift positions or undergo major changes in their schools. Layoffs are predicted at the top levels in the schools to avoid laying off classroom teachers. As administrative positions are slashed, those individuals may choose to move back into the classrooms; they may decide to “bump” current teachers with fewer years’ seniority and take their positions. Then those bumped teachers will do the same to someone else, and on and on down the domino trail.

Next year this district may become a messy sinkhole for morale, with many unexpected twists and changes that will challenge the best teachers and integrators. If we don’t talk about the elephant soon in an open, brutally honest way, we’re likely to pass on our angst to the students, who will already suffer enough from the changes.

Here’s how I faced the elephant. I told my team of 12 middle school integrators (3 of us are definitely leaving) that I wanted to break the silence and vent to them, my closest friends and working family. Just listen, I told them, and just be here for me — that’s all. Don’t offer platitudes or try to fix my feelings. Just stand by while I feel them, and let me express them. That’s how you start to train an elephant — you let it see that you’re not afraid of it. My reality, I told them, goes like this:

My own reaction has become a curious study. I observed it, intrigued, as if it were happening to someone else (a symptom of shock in itself). It’s a spectator sport, much like an accident scene that draws onlookers. They aren’t able to justify why they want to see the blood and injuries of someone’s misfortune, but they crane their necks to stare nonetheless. My emotional fallout reads like a textbook case of the stages of grief: first feeling emotionally removed and numb, then growing more and more worried, moving deeper into self-pity, fear, and indignant anger, and then finally emerging from the negatives into a rallying “battle surge” of action, that final stage – thankfully — where I now find myself, ready to move on to whatever comes next; in fact, looking forward to new opportunities.

While going through these stages, I discovered that I’m not immune from emotional fallout. Usually stalwart, strong, and controlled, I was surprised and humbled to observe myself developing the classic signs of depression. I experienced difficulty sleeping, forgetfulness, irritability, and loss of motivation. These symptoms occurred automatically and I was powerless to change them. At first, I was even unable to admit to them.

Intellectually, I know this career shakeup and my reaction to it are understandable, temporary, and inevitable, but emotionally the process leaves me feeling vulnerable and diminished, both professionally and personally. I’m climbing from the rubble, though, and slowly returning to normal. I’m pushing myself to regain my momentum, I’m fighting defeat, and I’m looking for the proverbial silver lining: my next opportunity is right around the corner. … Fortunately, resilience is my ally.  I’m strong and resourceful and optimistic, and I know I will prevail.

“Hold on to your seats; it’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
Isn’t that what Bette Davis warned in All About Eve? Her advice didn’t sugar-coat or deny the challenges ahead. I don’t think we should, either. Let’s buckle up and brace ourselves.

A tough challenge does not mean defeat, and there are many ways to handle an elephant! First, though, everyone must look the beast in the eye and acknowledge it.  Only then can we  push and shove the monster out of the room; only then will there be enough space left over to get to work on Plan B.

This blog expresses the personal opinions of the author and is not affiliated
with nor representative of any company, employer, or other entity.
Posted on January 19th, 2009 by Sharon Elin
Filed under: Uncategorized