2020 Changed Everything

The year of 2020 was a gamechanger for many reasons for many people. Life hasn’t been the same since. It felt like a wake-up call, and I’m sure I’m not the only one that heard 2020’s call. 2020: perfect vision. Much came to light, and it could no longer remain hidden.

I’ve been on my career journey since graduation with my dual degree (bachelor’s and master’s) in art education. Like many others, the professors at my college gave me an impassioned spiel about how my degree would serve me well and guarantee my employment. If I had opted for the bachelor’s rather than the dual degree, I wouldn’t have taken on any student loan debt, but it sounded promising. Plus, furthering my education hardly sounded like something that would harm me, so I completed both degrees.

I should have paid more attention to the early warning signs back then, though, as in hindsight, the college didn’t truly care for my success. Both the art and education departments had horrible communication, sending me on wild goose chases when it came time to sign up for classes, and college continuously cut back each year on what was offered. They wanted me for money; my development as a student, artist, and educator was hardly a priority. They even lied to me, insisting that I couldn’t take one of the required courses as an independent study with my cooperation teacher (who was also an adjunct professor with the college and who would be able to help me implement the material in real time during student teaching) because they would be running the course over the summer with another student. Guess what? They forced me into an independent study with some other adjunct professor (who had no background in art, for the record) because I was the only student. How kind of them.

Regardless of the ridiculous hoops they had my fellow art educators and me jump through, I graduated and eagerly looked forward to working with students, allowing them to embrace and express their creativity. Getting that dual degree turned out to be a double-edged sword. While schools were impressed that I had my master’s degree, they didn’t want to pay for it with my lack of experience. Thus, I left a great number of interviews empty handed. It was rather disappointing. Time and time again, I was informed that I wasn’t what they were looking for. With bills piling up and no art teaching job prospects, I needed to try something else.

I decided to start with a before and after care program. Sure, it wasn’t exactly what I was looking for and wasn’t anywhere close to the pay that my college had sworn I would get, but it was in a school district, which would allow me to get my foot in the door. The school year was starting in a matter of days, so an art teaching position was out of the picture for now. Working as a before/after care educator was fine—at least at the start. The supervisor swore up and down that they were flexible and that the group was a team. Turns out, they played hard with gas lighting. Oh boy, did they love gas lighting, making me think I was crazy and that I was the one with a problem. When I found a teachers’ assistant position the following year, they informed me that I couldn’t abandon them as I agreed to work with them. When I tried informing them that I just wanted to change my hours of availability, that I was still willing to work with them, that I wanted to use the flexibility they promised upon hiring me, they shut it down. They insisted I couldn’t do that because I wouldn’t be available for the peak hours when they needed employees the most. When I tried pointing out that other staff members worked other jobs, as well, arriving late or leaving early, they didn’t want to hear it. Needless to say, it left me rather emotional. Their response to this? They send me to counseling. I wish I could say that my experiences with supervisors/bosses that had major power-trip issues stopped there, but that wasn’t the case.

I was a teachers’ assistant with another district in the area. Each time I started at a new location the principal/director seemed so promising. Turns out, they were two-faced. At the end of the first school year, the principal told me in passing in the hallway one day that I wouldn’t be needed the following school year because of my degree. The HR department put me at another elementary school the following school year. As soon as I turned 26 and got onto the district’s insurance, the new principal tried to get rid of me. It was literally the day after my birthday, and the principal tried to claim that she had no idea. She tried to force me to resign right before winter break, but recognizing she had a potential lawsuit on her hands because the district has in writing that it doesn’t discriminate based on age, she had me moved to the district’s preschool.

Now, the preschool, it had seemed like it would finally be my home. Teachers’ assistants often ended up becoming classroom teachers at the building, and the staff felt more like a family. There wasn’t all the weird tension and awkward atmosphere that had existed between “support staff” and “educators.” Unfortunately, in the other schools there were a number of teachers that saw themselves as above the support staff. This wasn’t the case at the preschool, and I finally felt like I could breathe and shine. I was then invited back the following year to be a co-teacher with one of the preschool teachers and act at the after-care director. It felt so promising. The end of the 2019/2020 revealed the director’s true colors. In a zoom call she informed me that I didn’t deserve the pay I got (this is after she failed to give my co-teacher and I the proper support for our class that had a bunch of high-need three-year-olds) and proceeded to pressure me to resign. She refused to give me the stipend I was promised for acting as the after-care director, claiming that no one would be receiving any stipends, but since I didn’t actually have it in writing, I decided to cut my loses. After turning in my resignation letter because I realized I didn’t want to put up with this kind of supervision any longer—honestly, it was three strikes with the district at that point—my co-teacher informed me that the supervisor had apparently been trying to get rid of me since December, constantly asking if my co-teacher is unhappy with my support. Each time she earnestly replied how great a help I was and how she loved working with me. My co-teacher had been looking forward to working with me the following school year and lamented that we wouldn’t have that chance.

Every school I’ve worked at the supervisors have been awful and two-faced. I never have a problem with my coworkers; they always love me and are sad to see me go. It’s disheartening to see how the leadership of the schools are so lacking; it’s killing the schools, leaving them lacking. The work environment is so toxic. I refuse to be part of it any longer. The last school year I spent tutoring for the various families I babysit for (that’s one benefit from working my first job in before/after care—it provided many babysitting opportunities). It was a wonderful year; I felt like I was actually making a difference and was truly appreciated. The families and kids were so grateful for my assistance and always happy to see me.

The old systems are broken. I’m tired of being used as a disposable tool. I’m a human being. I’m worthy of being treated with respect and kindness. I’m tired of seeing so many children crying due to the toxic school systems. They’re so afraid of making mistakes, putting so much pressure on themselves to be “perfect.” Perfection isn’t obtainable. Mistakes aren’t the end of the world, contrary to what so many students now believe; they’re opportunities for growth. Children shouldn’t be petrified to make mistakes. They’re suffocating in these schools. While tutoring for the virtual school year, I witnessed one of the kids become so enraged over mistakenly pressing the wrong button for their Kahoot quiz. He became horrified for a simple slipup, berating himself, harshly criticizing himself for being so stupid. This needs to stop. What are we doing to our children? This isn’t healthy. This can’t continue.

During student teaching I witnessed so many children bursting into tears because their work, their best effort, wasn’t “good enough.” It didn’t look “good” in their eyes. It didn’t resemble their classmates’ piece or the teacher example. In their eyes, they failed, regardless of how much they learned or how much their skills had grown. The comparisons need to stop. They aren’t healthy. Cookie-cutter art from traditional Discipline Based Art Education is great for teaching skills, but a specific product shouldn’t be the priority. The goal shouldn’t be crafting the “perfect piece;” the focus should be on the learning and creative process. This is why I have emphasized the importance of Teaching for Artistic Behavior (TAB) in all of my interviews. TAB focuses on the learning process, allowing students to act as artists and have their own voice in the creative process. They get to explore different art studios and media; with students working on their own projects, each has the opportunity to become a teacher, sharing what they’ve learned with the class. Everyone is equal; the classroom is a collaborative community where everyone is both a student and a teacher. With all the rejections from schools, it became obvious that there’s no place for me there.

I adore art and love to share art learning experiences with others. Art can be messy, as can life. We’re all learning and growing on this journey. 2020 changed everything and illuminated the importance of change. We need change. We cannot remain stagnant—it’s slowly killing us to keep things as they are, to maintain this status quo. I plan to open up my own creative space; since there seems to be no place for me that exists currently, I’ll just have to create my own. I refuse to be limited by others any longer. I feel the call to create this welcoming space for everyone to come together and create freely. I don’t know where exactly this place will be, but I know I’ll open it. In the meantime I’ll continue writing, creating art, and babysitting for the families that value me. I choose to go where I’m appreciated; I am nobody’s tool. I refuse to be mistreated and looked down upon ever again. Ever since I left the school system, I’ve felt so much freer and happier; the school jobs, while paying more than I’m currently making, came with hidden costs. There was so much added stress and psychological warfare. It’s not worth it. I’ll never go back; the before/after care job tried to get me to come back for this school year, but that door has closed. I won’t walk backwards on my journey; I’m going to keep moving forward. 2020 was a gamechanger, the year where enough was enough and when I decided to make a change.