It has been two years, five months, and five days since I first met my students in Pine Bluff as a first-year teacher with the Arkansas Teacher Corps (ATC).
I was Ms. McNeal then, the funny-sounding white lady from Fayetteville who was far too young to be a teacher. My room was decorated with yellow butcher paper and black borders, brightly colored signs with annoyingly cheerful quotes, desks in neat little rows with numbers carefully taped to the back.
When I look back to that first day, there is so much that I wish I had known. Plug up a wax warmer, because you will be forever battling the odors of puberty. Create a folder to file notes from meetings that should have been emails. Smile at your students, because it's possible no one else will. Keep snacks in your closet, because you never know who hasn't eaten since lunch the day before.
If you asked me then why I was doing what I was doing, I might have rambled on about passion, equity, opportunity, social justice. I might have told you that I believed deeply in the power of education, or that my teaching in Pine Bluff was an attempt to give back to the state that had shaped me through its public schools. I might have told you that I was hoping to change lives.
I was optimistic, well-intentioned, and prepared to serve on the front lines of public education.
It is now 2017, and in his inaugural address to the nation, President Donald Trump made mention of "American carnage." I am inclined to believe that if I had heard those words uttered two years, five months, and five days ago, I would have shaken my head at their harshness, but would have found myself agreeing with them, too.
Arkansas Teacher Corps teachers work in areas that have been ravaged by economic decline, high incarceration rates, and white flight. Our schools sometimes lack technology, or are in such disrepair that ceiling tiles leak and threaten to drop when it rains too much. We fill positions that were previously filled by permanent subs who lacked the training and experience needed to be successful classroom teachers. It's easy to come teach in these places and to convince yourself you're rescuing the students from the rubble.
In my two years, five months, and five days, I have learned that my students don't need to be rescued; my students don't need anyone to swoop in and save them. What my students need are teachers who are committed to doing their job to the very best of their ability all day, every day. My students need teachers who are experts in their field. My students need teachers who will hold them to the highest standards. My students need teachers who are willing to adapt to rapidly changing school environments and, sometimes, administrations. My students need teachers who don't view them or their communities as what's been left when the smoke clears. My students need teachers who see them for what they are: precious gifts to the world. And the Arkansas Teacher Corps recruits and trains teachers to fulfill these needs around the state.
I am in my third classroom in two years ,and I am now some combination of Señora, McNeal, and Mrs. Sutton, depending on what day it is or who is looking for me. If you look around my room, you'll see posters for the Mexican Day of the Dead celebration, brightly colored papel picado stretching above my Promethean board, and a cart of 10 Chromebooks that were generously donated to my classroom. A wax warmer burns behind my desk; my walls are covered with artwork and graduation announcements from former students.
What you cannot see is the folder buried deep in my desk, full of letters, short stories, and cards given to me by students. Letters that say things like, "thank you for never giving up on me even when I don't try my best." Or pieces of scratch paper that say, in broken Spanish, "you're my favorite teacher even though you wrote me up." And then there are a handful that say things like, "you inspired me to become a teacher" and "you make me feel as if I want to come to school even when I don't feel like it."
When asked now why I moved away from Fayetteville to teach in southeast Arkansas, my answer becomes less about how the community needed me, and more about how I need the community.
I teach here because it is my students who inspire me and make me want to keep fighting for equity and justice. I teach here because it is my students who remind me that my liberation is bound to theirs. I teach here because this is now my other home, and I am forever grateful for that.
Without the support and training from the Arkansas Teacher Corps, a whole piece of my heart would never have been filled, and based on my stashed notes, I suspect a number of my students feel the same.
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Sarah McNeal Sutton is a third-year English and Spanish teacher in Pine Bluff and is currently a Spanish teacher at Dollarway High School. She is a member of the 2014 cohort of the Arkansas Teacher Corps (www.arkansasteachercorps.org).
Editorial on 02/04/2017