My name is Ms. Thompson. I teach 10th grade English on the South Side of Chicago. I’ve been a public school educator for 12 years. I’ve taught students who have gone on to Ivy League universities, and students who struggled to make it through each day. I’ve written thousands of lesson plans. I’ve broken up fights. I’ve bought notebooks with my own paycheck. I’ve laughed and cried in this classroom. And now, I’m writing to you—not as a teacher, but as a human being who feels like she’s vanishing in front of a nation that isn’t watching.
Here’s what I wish you knew.
Teaching Isn’t What It Used to Be. It’s not just grading papers and assigning homework anymore. We’re social workers, trauma specialists, de-escalation experts, mediators, and in too many cases, first responders to violence. I’ve had to lock my classroom door while a student screamed in the hallway. I’ve had chairs thrown across the room. I’ve been cussed at. I’ve cried in my car more times than I can count.
And yet, when I share these experiences, I hear, “That’s just part of the job.” It shouldn’t be.
We Are Not the Enemy. When a student struggles, we are often the first to be blamed. When school systems collapse, teachers are scapegoated. I’ve sat through meetings where data was used to measure my “value” without anyone asking how many kids I helped keep in school when they wanted to drop out. Or how many went home hungry. Or how many confided in me about abuse.
We do more than teach. We carry burdens that don’t show up on standardized tests.
Violence Against Teachers Is Real. The stories you hear are not rare exceptions. They’re happening in big cities and small towns. They’re happening to experienced teachers and brand-new hires. I’ve had coworkers who left mid-year after being assaulted. I’ve had students threaten me. And when we report it, we’re told to “de-escalate” or “try a new strategy.”
There is no strategy that protects us from silence.
We Love What We Do—But We’re Tired. I became a teacher because I believe in education as liberation. I still do. But I also believe in survival. I believe in mental health. And I believe in the right to feel safe at work. Many of us are barely hanging on—not because we don’t care, but because we’ve been left to care alone.
So What Can You Do? If you’re reading this, you care. And that matters more than you know. Here’s what I ask:
- Don’t dismiss our stories as “isolated.” They’re not.
- Support legislation that protects educators.
- Attend school board meetings. Ask what’s being done for teacher safety.
- Talk to the teachers in your life. Really talk.
- When you see us in the store or at a coffee shop, thank us. Not with a mug. With your voice.
Conclusion We show up every day. We fight for our students. We love them even when they make it hard. All we ask is that someone fights for us, too.
With hope and exhaustion,
Ms. Thompson
Chicago Public Schools
#TeacherVoices
#ListenToEducators
#StandWithTeachers
