現在嫁給老師很難

Posted On Sep 18, 2020 經過行政和評論關閉

We know American schoolteachers are under a tremendous burden of stress right now. They’re trying to juggle new information technologies with their normal reading schedules. In many cases, they’re still expected to meet the same benchmarks they met pre-pandemic. They have to track down kids. They have to answer endless emails. They never know what brand-new program or etiquette will blindside them. They need a support system. That’s where the teacher’s partner comes in.

As a teacher’s partner, I’m drowning.

My husband comes in from institution — if he’s chosen to go to school, where some of his colleagues wear masks that don’t cover their noses and refuse to respect social distancing — and the litany begins. He’s always angry. Something has gone wrong: he’s had to change programmes. He can’t find parents. He can’t find babies. His technology separation mid-class.

I used to be like my minors, counting the hours until Daddy comes home. 現在, when I hear the door slam in the driveway, part of me grovels. I love my husband. But part of me, the duty that’s the teacher’s partner, closes her seeings and steels herself. It’s coming.

He thumps in the door. The programmes don’t make sense, he says. If they make all the children picture their faces on Zoom, it’s clearly classism: “students ” participates the inside of every other student’s house, and it’s obvious who has money and who doesn’t. If they don’t move the minors picture their faces on Zoom, who knows if they’re really there? He’s angry about a world where his students have to watch siblings because mothers have to work, and it affects educational opportunities. He doesn’t blame the girls. But he’s pallid that it happens, and he tells me.

In detail.

Being A Teacher’s Partner Is Anxiety-Inducing

My husband wears an Apple watch. It tells him when he has an email, and I wince at every ding. Is it his mama? Or is it his administrator relaying some brand-new programme that will send him raving? And as the teacher’s partner, I’ll have to listen. I can’t pacify him. I can’t help him. I can only be a receptacle for this rage, his safe space to unload.

The teenagers and I will be having a good day homeschooling. I’ll be going writing done. We’ll be humming along, reasonably joyous, and then that automobile door flings. My stomach lowers. Will he are still in a good feeling? Will he are still in a bad humor? Will he rain through the house, incensed at an unfair life, with exclusively me– the teacher’s partner — to listen? Will he yell at the teenagers because his temper’s short, because he’s given all he can, and the poor man has nothing left?

I never know.

His Teaching Takes Over Our Lives

Our family life rolls on Daddy. It has to. Daddy’s under the most push, and we have to give him space. Does he need time to go fishing alone? As the teacher’s partner , no matter how tired I am, I have to say,” Go. We’ll be fine .” Does he need someone to listen? As the teacher’s partner, I have to set aside what I’m doing and say,” Talk. I’ll hear you .” When he coachs from dwelling — the safest alternative — I have to herd the teenagers out of his nature, even when he’s on break.

As the teacher’s partner, when his email dings, I have to give him space. When that email maddens him, I have to listen.

Recently, I was having one of those pandemic daylights: the days when the walls close in and you feel good for absolutely nothing, when life seems like an endless slog into nothing and nowhere. I laid down in the bunked and cried. In the midriff of that crying, I realise something.

My husband was on his email.

I announced him on it.

” It could be from work !” he snapped.” You know I have to check it every single time! And I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is !”

This is what it means to be a teacher’s partner.

Being A Teacher’s Partner Can Suck The Life From A Marriage

Don’t ask me when I last had fornication. I don’t want to answer you, chiefly because I can’t remember, and I used to have a really great sex life. I only don’t want to be intimate with someone who draws me that agitated, who stomps in the door, who’s constantly only half-there, whose topic of discussion is clas, institution, school. And if he isn’t talking about institution, he’s talking about his friends who coach at institution. Being a teacher’s partner simply ditches me. I’m giving so much to someone else that I don’t have enough to give more back.

Forget hanging out after the teenagers go to bed. He does a few things: he sleeps. He watches a mindless movie. He wreaks. Usually he does the last two in combination.

Usually I’m not tired, so I stay awake and do my own thing. It’s lonely being a teacher’s partner. Sometimes I are sleeping when I’m not tired, only because I can’t think of anything else to do. We used to have time together in the mornings before the minors woke up. No more. He sleeps until the last possible time. I can’t blame him. But I hate it.

His school suctions up everything he has. If it’s not academy, it’s his family. He doesn’t have enough feeling force left for me. I’ve stopped asking for it. Being a teacher’s partner at this stage in the pandemic signifies leaving and establishing until you can’t give any more. It means supporting the people who need the most support. We’re the person or persons behind the front lines, the ones you don’t see: the medics obliging up the meanders and propping up the soldiers to fight another day.

Teachers have it harder.

But being a teacher’s partner isn’t an easy activity, either.

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