Teaching With a Big Ego

People don’t talk about ego’s enough. They particularly don’t like to talk about “good” professions or helping professions like teaching and messy, complicated topics like ego. I like to leave no stone unturned in this blog so I am here to discuss my ego. This post will likely make me look vapid and possibly narcissistic, but most of all human.

When I first became a teacher, I didn’t know all of what I needed too. I bought books at lawn sales. I used toys that people gave me. I looked at my team of teachers in awe. At that time, Deb Carey was my unspoken mentor and everyone requested her. She taught kids to read, while at the same time did dances and music and those kids painted every day. Ever. Durrrrn. Day. At the end of the year, she put on a human circus. I used to sit with my mouth agape at the circus and think how does one person perform this.

I would staple something in the hall way and I would look at her room and she was stapling artwork all the way to the music room, because her kids were little kindergarten professional artists. I did not blame parents for requesting her, because I too was in awe of her work, but my little 20-year-old something ego, was burning. I will be her someday I thought. Parents will request me.

Eventually they did, at least a few of them. I began to get a reputation for being good with behaviors, being strong academically, but also being kind and warm. All the things you want to hear about yourself. I began to have sets of siblings and developing relationships with some wonderful families. Now here is the ugly part. I loved it. I ate it up. The fact that families wanted to have their students with me. It really became part of my identity. The t was for teacher and not just Taryn. I still shared with my colleagues, but secretly I began to feel like I have this figured out though. I know this gig in and out. I am almost to Deb Carey level.

When I moved to second grade, the students who I had taught in kindergarten (many of them), were also mine in second grade. It was perfect. It fed my rapidly growing ego appetite. The parents were good to me, they sometimes posted about me on social media. And then. Then. Covid hit.

All of a sudden, I couldn’t keep up with the growing demands of school. I didn’t know how to divide my time between my family and remote learning. I didn’t know how to set boundaries, because my ego kept speaking to me and it was whispering, your still the best though. Buy all the things off TPT, respond to emails day and night, you know you are the best , just spread yourself a little thinner. Make yourself smaller, give more of yourself and people will see how grand you are.

By the following year, I was very small. I felt myself disappearing the more I tried to brighten the room. Students were being dismissed from school for 10 day periods in droves, parents weren’t connecting the way they used too, struggling readers were still floundering. I couldn’t seem to find my footing and I couldn’t even enjoy my off time. What was I, if not the favorite teacher?

Fast foward to intensive therapy. Fast forward to my emboldened admittance of my ego and this job.

I finally confessed to my therapist. “What if I’m not the favorite?”

“So, what?”

She asked.

So what? Does she even know what that means I thought.

“I don’t have new shelves, or a laminator, or cute enough locker tags. My room looks like something instagram would barf all over.”

She smiled patiently. “You don’t need those things”, she told me. “You already have everything you need with a piece of paper and a sharpie. You could do a day of lessons with one picture book and a white board if you needed too.”

She seemed confident. I nodded in a people pleasing way. But my ego smiled behind the gulp.

It feels strange to think that after 15 years of teaching, a masters degree and several wonderful colleagues , I can still hold on to such insecurities.

This spring, I saw a post from a parent who was applauding the teaching practices of my colleague. Several other parents roared their approval. The thread was pages long. It made my stomach hurt and the guilt of the initial stomach ache gave me a second one. What was wrong with me? I love compliments, it’s like my favorite thing. I love feel good posts.

In my next meeting with my therapist I described this to her. I also told her that I am incredibly insecure, but I love my second grade team so vehemently that I could never be vindictive in any way toward this person. I love her too whole heartedly for that.

We also talked about a situation where administrators had set up a time for a neighboring school to visit and I had not been on the list to be observed. I described how it gutted me. I love to teach writing. It is my absolute favorite. I am also really really good at it. That’s not just my ego talking. That’s my joyful, little, big girl saying that part. I said it feels like people are looking at my team saying I like that teacher and that teacher and that one, but not this one. I didn’t want to be the not this one.

She looked at me boldly and said you know everybody thinks this way, but they rarely say that out loud. You are very brave to say that out loud. She then said you have also been a spokesperson for lunch breaks and special time and planning time and have you considered maybe they just didn’t want to interrupt that. You can’t fight for that, and then be upset when they leave you your lunch break. I sat on that for awhile. It made sense. I wrestled with that.

The truth is, I may always wrestle a little with my ego. This past year was the most comfortable I have ever felt in my teaching career to make decisions and then sit back in my rocking chair and think that was right for THEM. I did exactly what these kids in this room need. I don’t always need the glitter and the sugar, and the blazing fun. Some days we need dull and boring, some days I need to read with the voices, some days I look at them bravely and say the morning started out hard for me, but I’m working hard to catch up with your energy. I find myself falling back on my intuition more than ever this past year. I find myself trusting my gut and then nodding after. When I hug a student goodbye, I don’t do it because their parent is going to blow that up on social media, I do it because it means something. The bond we have means something together. The way that I teach kids to read, is not because I am the favorite of anyone. It is because I earn the trust of the students in my room. I know when to push and I know when to let them fall apart with a stuffy and a snotty tissue. Most of the time, parents don’t even know how much I give of myself and that’s okay. Nine times out of ten, they will not thank me for it. I do it because it is the most rewarding thing I could ever do on this Earth. Not every day is magic, but I put magic on every day. If you are a new teacher. If you are new Mom and a new teacher. If you wonder why wasn’t I picked ? Why didn’t I get a shout out? Let me let you in on a little secret. Your shout out might be a quiet one. It might be a side hug during math, it might be a tearful teammate asking you how you do it at the end of the day, it might be giggles during a science experiment, but listen to that the most. This job is important and you are doing it right. The little people will let you know of that first. You just have to listen to their voices. Let the background die out. It is their voices that matter the most.