Fight, Flight, or Apathy Those Who Can't Teach Anymore

We are witnessing a mass exodus of teachers from education. My wife, Jennie, is one of those teachers that left. She, like many educators, was tired of not being treated like a professional. Even for me, a high school English teacher, the job is getting harder. So I go in search of answers. In this episode, we hear from Jennie and two other former teachers about why they left teaching. From struggles with mental health, to low pay, to a lack of autonomy in the classroom - they give insight into why we are losing good teachers across the country.
Music: 
Theme Song By Julian Saporiti
“Worky Work” by Andy G. Cohen is licensed under a CC BY license.
“Roost” by Andy G. Cohen is licensed under a CC BY license.
“Take it Back” by Crowander is licensed under a  CC BY-NC license
“Machinery” by eddy is licensed under a CC BY-NC license
“So Far So Close” by Jahzzar is licensed under a CC BY-SA license.
“Patriotic Songs of America” by the New York Military Band and the American Quartet is licensed under a CC BY-NC license
“Another Rainy Day” by Scott Holmes Music is licensed under a CC  BY license.
“Everest” by Scott Holmes Music is licensed under a CC  BY license
 
Transcript:
I was a Junior in high school when my English teacher, Ms. Dianne Panazzo assigned us to write a paper that explored our backgrounds. I wrote about a neighborhood game of capture the flag. In the middle of our game, we came across a soft-top, convertible. It was parked in the lumber yard of the hardware store at the end of our block. Our pursuit of the flag came to a standstill to look at this car. We lived in a small town in western New York – a place of rusted trucks and economy vehicles.
One of the boys that lived across the street from us always wore camo and did reconnaissance missions into his neighbor’s house. He was pretty sure the car belonged to a guy who was trying to shut down his dad’s business. With the logic of 10-year-olds, we felt a sense of duty to retaliate against any encroachment on locally owned, businesses so we stacked lumber and bags of concrete on the car.
Then, my camo-wearing neighbor climbed onto the hood of the car and threw a cinderblock into the windshield. There was this cinematic pause, as we gathered our senses, and then we destroyed that car. Lumber and tree branches went through the windows, the soft top was punctured – more cinderblocks made pieces of the car – it was a mess. When we were done, we finished our game of capture the flag and went home at curfew. Later, 2 police officers visited our door, looking for the vandals. Lawlessness that my oldest brother assured them that we had nothing to do with.
My essay explored how this story was a metaphor for rock and roll. I know, but it was high school – I was trying to be edgy and profound.
My teacher, Ms. Panazzo, applauded my writing and had me walk across the hall to Mr. Wacker’s room. This was not because Wacker was more or less of an expert on writing or deviance. Panazzo sent students to Wacker as a way to celebrate and share writing. These were teachers who collaborated often, believed in the writing process, and took efforts to teach students how valuable their writing was. Sending a student to Wacker was a novel way to give kids a feeling of getting published.
Wacker was on plan, crouched over a stack of papers, pen in hand, at his desk in the back of an empty, dimly-lit classroom. I had never interacted with him before. He had a reputation of being dynamic, kind, and willing to be outrageous – he’s the guy that put on a foam ten-gallon hat and had a stick horse race in front of the school at a pep-rally. To Wacker, shame was for suckers.
I told him that Panazzo had sent me. He had me sit in a chair to the side of his desk so he could listen to me read my essay. I read and Wacker nodded, gasped, said, “uh-huh,” now and again – all of the things that I wanted to hear as a young write