This I Believe

As part of the Oklahoma State University’s Writing Project Advanced Summer Institute, teacher consultants crafted “This I Believe” essays inspired by the organization’s call for people to write and share essays describing the core values that guide their daily lives. At a time when teachers’ values are being called into question, teachers have consented to share their essays to shape the public narrative on who teachers are and what they believe. If you wish to share yours, reach out to Sarah Donovan or write your essay (or poem) in the comment section below.

This I Believe 

by Alexa Fuson

I believe in closed-door classrooms. During my first year of teaching, I was invited back to my university for a panel to talk to pre-service teachers who were about to start student teaching. One of these future teachers asked the panel how we built relationships with students, and one of the other panelists’ answer was that he kept his classroom door open during lunch. He went on about how students need a “safe space” to go during lunch, and sometimes, they would come to him. I sat quietly through his speech. I, too, had believed this for the first month of teaching. And then one day, I closed my door. 

It wasn’t a conscious decision I made to close my door. It was just one of those days where the coffee wasn’t hitting right, and if one more student sharpened their pencil while I was talking, I was going to throw the obnoxious pencil sharpener in the trash. My class before lunch had been more rambunctious than usual, and Chris was trying to linger after class, and I wasn’t in the mood to tell him that no, you cannot do a backflip off of the desk. I got him to leave, and I closed the door behind him. I ate my lunch with some quiet music playing. And it was glorious. I wasn’t worried about the Negative Nancy across the hall complaining about how awful the students were, I wasn’t bothered by the students who played music from a speaker in the hallway, I didn’t spend my lunch hearing about who was kissing who and who wanted to be kissing who. A teacher from down the hall snuck into my room, and we talked about what TV shows we were watching and what books we were reading. And by the time lunch was over, I was at peace. It was the most fun I’d had with my afternoon classes all year. 

This was a boundary that was hard to set, and I remember feeling like a bad teacher listening to my co-panelist talk on and on about how beneficial it can be for students to have a safe adult to go to. I had flashbacks to all of the college professors and professional development organizers who had said the same thing. I felt guilty. Was I doing my students a disservice? Was I neglecting their needs? 

I hope that my students’ trust is not dependent on whether or not I keep my door open. They learn that trust through my actions when they were actually in my class. They know I love them, and they know I will listen to them and hug them when they need it. They know I will ask them about how they’re feeling, and they’ll roll their eyes at me when I do. But they know when I ask, I really want to know. And I am upfront with them. I tell them this job is hard for me sometimes because it takes a lot of energy from me to be around people all the time. The trust goes both ways because I know what my boundaries are, and I am honest with them. If this wasn’t the case, a literal open door wouldn’t make any difference. 

So I give myself the small amount of self-care it’s possible to muster during a school day. I take care of myself, so I can take better care of them. I won’t make this job any harder on myself than it already is. Even if the door is closed, my students know that all they have to do is knock.

Author

Alexa Fuson is an English teacher at Del City High School, Oklahoma. She is an avid reader and aspiring writer, and she works to instill this same love of the written word in her students. She is passionate about building a community of young teachers who advocate for change in education.