Injury vs. Career: hazards of being a special-ed teacher
This is my right thigh after one of my students rammed me with a grocery cart. I've recounted the incident ad nauseum, to assorted administrators, teachers and caseworkers. The deputy from the sheriff's department who works at our school came by the classroom yesterday to ask me about it. Suffice it to say that the student is emotionally disturbed, and she won't be going on field trips with the rest of the class for awhile.
When I graduated from college in the early 80s, my first job was as a mental health worker with head injured patients. I never felt fear, even though patients with poor impulse control and few anger management skills routinely took swings at me, lunged for me and chased me. I had the feeling of
immortality that is typical of the young, as well as the physical confidence of a healthy 23 year old.
And I did not have much at stake. No husband, no kids, no mortgage, no car. I was doing good to feed my sourdough starter once a week and keep an African violet alive.
But now there is a lot at stake, namely all of the above. My husband and sons depend on me to contribute half to our mortgage and grocery bills, and provide three quarters of our family's health insurance. There are also the less quantifiable things that I provide. We'll just say that they'd really miss my overall fabulousness if the actions of one of my students irrevocably changed or killed me.
I've known for awhile that I have more than I had at 23--more baking pans and stuff, more sticky kisses from wonderful children, more creditors--but when did I become more of a nervous nelly? I won't beat myself up too much. It probably happened gradually, like the other accumulations.
But this nervousness makes me question whether I want to continue being a special ed. teacher. Here's my thinking:
- I finished my second full year of teaching in January.
- A student attacked me last year too.
- I'm averaging one assault per year.
- In my previous career (technical writer and editor), no one ever attacked me at work. EVER.
I know that anything can happen, at any time, to endanger my health and safety. I could be in a car accident next week or get a staph infection from using a towel at the gym (or I could if I actually had time to go to a gym). So I guess the thing to do, if I really want to continue teaching, is to minimize the risk of assault as much as possible. After all, I drive carefully and wash my hands frequently to prevent other catastrophes.
I'll also have to get disability insurance, and maybe more life insurance. Because at this point in my life, I have the good fortune to have so much at stake.
Original 50-Something Moms Blog post
