Teacher
Most of a teacher’s free time is taken up by marking, planning and extracurricular activities. (Image: Archi Banal)

SocietyMarch 16, 2023

I am a high school teacher – this is what I’m not doing today

Teacher
Most of a teacher’s free time is taken up by marking, planning and extracurricular activities. (Image: Archi Banal)

Why I’m joining thousands of other teachers on strike today.

All week on The Spinoff we are delving into our relationship with the world of work in Aotearoa. For more Work Week stories, click here.

I’m a high school drama teacher and an English teacher in Timaru. On a normal day we’re at school by 8.25am. A staff meeting goes to about 8.35am. We have a whānau class, which is like a form class, which we do every single morning. That’s pastoral needs, student wellbeing, connecting with parents, and goes to about 9am. Then we start period one. We have five periods a day. I teach classes from year 8-12 for three or four periods out of the five. We’re quite lucky being a relatively small school. The school prides itself on having small classes. I have 24 students in my classes.

You’re required to do an extracurricular activity, whether that’s coaching a sports team or some sort of arts and cultural club. All the clubs are run by teachers in their own time. Being the drama teacher, I’m in charge of the Sheilah Winn Shakespeare Festival, which is happening soon. That’s coaching and directing a group of students to perform for an audience. I’m also helping with the school musical. That’s taking all my Sundays and lunchtimes. I share that role with two other teachers. We spend a lot of time sourcing things, doing little jobs outside school. It’s such a lifestyle. It’s really hard to separate your work and your life.

You’re constantly adapting. Spaces and resources are really stretched thin at the moment. We’re in the process of getting a couple of new classrooms built. First we need to get some old buildings that are not earthquake safe demolished. So we are sharing classrooms with teachers from all different subject areas. I’ve got English in a maths classroom. Technology sometimes doesn’t work. I’m in a state integrated school where we don’t get as much funding as a public school. We charge fees. Those fees have to go somewhere and sometimes it’s not allocated for resources for teachers.

I am only in my second year of teaching and I already think this career is unsustainable. My body is weak. I am exhausted. If I watch a movie, I feel guilty because I’m not marking my Year 11 English internal assessments. I am given no time during the week between teaching periods. The expectations of teaching go far beyond a job. It becomes a lifestyle, our identity, our whole life depends on our work.

Photo: Getty Images

We juggle the need to prepare students for society, supporting and implementing pastoral care. We become the first port of call for emergencies to do with health, mental illness, learning difficulties and family needs. But we care. Most of us were born for this career. It’s in our DNA. Society’s rambunctious needs have prompted new initiatives and curriculum refreshes – leaving teachers strained for support in doing so.

Walking into school, we are weighed down by our bags stuffed with marking and lesson plans, curriculum books, sticky notes, an existential bag that is packed each day, taken home to analyse during mealtimes and before bed. We are riddled with frustrations and exhaustion, consequently severing ties with our social life. The amount of information that is given to teachers each day is enough to catapult any professional into another career. There is too much information, too many expectations, and too little compensation – of time, and money – to make it reasonable. 

Teachers are striking today to earn their respect and acknowledgement in society. A lot of our work goes under the radar. We’re pitching for validation and appreciation, and for better working conditions. Our health and wellbeing is not taken seriously by the government and the Ministry of Education. This is an odd parallel considering teachers are responsible for student health and well being. The satirical notion of an increased Teaching Registration fee, which is now $564.37 every three years, is just not good enough. We are paying the government money so we can retain our jobs. Make it make sense.

We are careful people. We love helping. We are considerate, thoughtful, and appreciative. We spend years crafting our teaching personas. We think critically about ourselves so that we are giving students the highest education, the tools to think for themselves, to explore and investigate the processes of society, to learn the fundamentals and leave school with purpose and drive to succeed. Our personalities are taken advantage of because we have hearts and will continue to raise generations of children.

It’s such a fulfilling job. You feel like you’re making real change. You’re building relationships and connections constantly.  You leave the day feeling like, “I had such a great conversation with this kid,” or, “I managed to inspire this little interaction”. So there are little moments throughout the day that makes this job really fulfilling. But we’ve got to find the good moments in between all the chaos.

Keep going!
urple background a white skinned mama holding a baby and a phone and looking at a laptop with a turquoise thought bubble. worried but optimistic vibes.
Image: Tina Tiller

OPINIONSocietyMarch 16, 2023

It shouldn’t be this hard to return to work after maternity leave

urple background a white skinned mama holding a baby and a phone and looking at a laptop with a turquoise thought bubble. worried but optimistic vibes.
Image: Tina Tiller

It took me 10 years to work my way back to a technical role at the same level as what I had before going on maternity leave. Returning to work shouldn’t be like this.

I am a Systems Development Support engineer by trade, and I’m very good at it. I’m also a mother of two.

Sure, taking seven years off to raise my children left me behind the latest technologies. But despite applying for countless roles in software development and engineering, when I was ready to return to the workforce I couldn’t even get an interview. My experience wasn’t current, and no business had the willingness to train me back up to speed, despite the success I’d had in my technical career before having kids.

To make matters worse, when I applied for junior roles, I was told I was overqualified. In the end, I had no choice but to take an entry level position, right alongside new graduates.

A decade of hard work later, I am back where I started. During this time my husband, who also has a career in technology, continued to climb the corporate ladder and rise to prominent positions.

The technology industry in Aotearoa is desperate to retain women, but after my experience I can see why it’s making slow progress. The system simply isn’t built to flex around the lives of women, and those who take on primary caregiver roles. Few organisations have reviewed how they operate to get the most out of female talent.

A mum holding her baby.
Parenting teaches valuable skills that are an asset, not a weakness, at work. (Photo: File)

My original foray into the tech industry was a coincidence. I’d been accepted to study osteopathy at  university at age 17 but I was technically too young to begin, so I found part time jobs to whittle away the time.

I started selling and building computers. I loved it but was the only female on the team. The boss put them through some “PC” training before I began; they weren’t allowed to swear anymore, too disrespectful around a young woman. In a twist the men certainly didn’t see coming, I swore just as much as them. By the time I left I was leading a team of six technicians, all males. I stayed in tech and ended up with a great technical job in one of New Zealand’s largest organisations. During these years, being a woman never stopped me from achieving my career goals.

I loved my work, but at the same time I knew I wanted to be a stay-at-home mum for my children when they were young. Had I known what the ramifications of this decision would be then, perhaps my thought process would have played out differently.

I took to parenthood similarly to my career, trying to upskill as much as possible. Although I maintained that I would return to tech, I studied early childhood, learning about brain development. I grew and learnt so much during these years, but by the time my youngest started school and I was ready to focus back on my own development, I seemed to be locked out of my old technical career.

cartony picture of two women high fiving
If New Zealand companies want parents to work for them, they need to support people who return after parental leave (Image: Tina Tiller)

Humbled and willing to take anything I could to get back on the ladder, I took a low salary desk job. I eventually became a PBX engineer, happy to be back engineering, but painfully aware I was no longer at the level of seniority I had previously achieved. It wasn’t until I found my role at Kordia and was promoted into their SDS team that I felt I was back-on-track. To be honest, there were points during this time where I pondered giving up totally, but now I’m with an organisation that plays to my strengths.

Comparatively, I’m lucky. There are thousands of women who have similar experiences, many of whom may not have had the continuous support I had from my husband, who was there to carry the domestic load as I worked long hours to regain my foothold.

Here’s the thing: the skills I learnt as a full-time mother and a trained early childhood teacher transferred seamlessly to my return to tech and management once I had the opportunity to apply them. Time management, sensitivity in communication and achieving under immense pressure are all skills I’m certain every stay-at-home mother possesses. It is frustrating that we place little to no value on these skills in a professional environment.

It is important to acknowledge the inherent shortfalls of the tech industry in allowing time, space and discussions around the re-integration of women back into their line of work after having children. The professional complex has somehow not worked out a way to meld these two things together. While we have come a long way regarding gender and diversity in tech, women still only make up roughly a quarter of the sector worldwide. The higher you go up that food chain, the more those numbers dwindle.

If tech and engineering companies are sincere about seeing more women progress in the workforce, they need to appreciate the importance of the skills women can bring and create environments that utilise these strengths, not just feel as though they are filling a quota. We need more clever business leaders with lived experience who comprehend the importance of parental leave and can help implement plans to support their female talent re-enter the workforce. With the pandemic, we proved that businesses canadapt to flexible working – we need to extend that same problem-solving approach to this issue.

Seventeen years since having kids, I’m hopeful that sharing my story might galvanise change for the next generation of working mothers – because being parent shouldn’t have to be at odds with having a career.