Teachers Are Vital — But Many Are Leaving the Profession
The way I heard it discussed back then, women worked only if they 'had' to. Nan's daughter, my Nana, had raised my mom and her four siblings while working full-time at one of the local dry cleaners. By my mom's eighteenth birthday, she had already been working for several years. Her after-school job in the hospital credit bureau was to help recovering patients in our rural community sort out their bills and put them on payment plans when they were struggling. This was arguably a less-carefree experience than that of her friends, who were cheerleading and cruising the fast-food places on the boulevard.
But my school years became my exposure to a world in which women showed up to the careers they'd chosen, not only the jobs they needed. And so many of them were devoted to their work in education. When I started kindergarten, Miss Caracciolo was newly out of college and had spent the summer beforehand creating stuffed animals in the shape of each letter, to teach us the alphabet. In first grade, Mrs. Stephens led us in a project making homemade butter which we spread smoothly onto Saltines, a flavor I still savor. She praised my storytelling, my imagination further cultivated by the rich, sensory experiences she was introducing us to.
Other teachers took us on outdoor excursions identifying types of trees, on adventures to the library where cellophane dust jackets crinkled beneath our fingers, down the hill to the church hall (where we took turns climbing inside the silver, igloo-shaped Star Dome to learn about astronomy), and once a year, near the holidays, through the neighborhood near the school at night, where we sang Christmas carols. I observed that my teachers were as enthralled to engage in life, in our community, as we children were. These women had moved beyond making ends meet. The more time, attention, and investment they poured into us, the more fulfilled they seemed.
For the figures who dedicate their lives to preparing young people to enter a complicated world, the job is getting tougher. As I researched my new memoir, Show, Don't Tell: A Writer, Her Teacher, and the Power of Sharing Our Stories, I spoke with two dozen U.S. elementary and secondary educators. Working across every student population and major metropolitan areas, rural areas like my hometown, and many types of communities in between, they shared their reflections about today's teaching profession.
One theme that emerged is that many are putting on bright faces despite their exhaustion. That's especially true this time of year — and especially this year. 'We're all exhausted by the Education Department politics and ready for summer,' one elementary teacher told me last week. When health, public assistance, and education services are cut, it's usually educators who absorb the brunt of a fast-changing, and often harsh, society.
Data in 2022 from the National Education Association noted there's been a 50% decline in Americans entering the field of education, compared to 50 years ago. Some states have developed an expedited track to teaching licensure, and several major cities have established incentive programs to encourage professionals to enter what, throughout modern history, has been regarded as a vocation of the heart. Think of your favorite teacher: Can you imagine them in any other role?
To be schooled by my teachers was to witness professional women who found joy in their jobs and purpose in the world, a world that they showed me was a safe place for females to thrive. Especially in communities that are still led by men — my hometown being proof that these certainly still exist — a teacher is often the first example a child sees of a woman making a living and feeling good about herself. I'd go on to learn for myself that to have a career is to know one's contributions have worth.
Many teachers don't just point a child in that direction — they're often the first living example of what's possible beyond the bounds of what a child observes at home. We need to care for them — those whose unique turns of phrase our little ones come to parrot with fondness, those who preside over a classroom where children learn to work alongside others. And those whose own lives are made meaningful by serving young people who will, in most cases, never be able to thank them for all they've invested. A life dedicated to teaching is the humblest, but most-profound greatness any of us could aspire to.
Kristine Gasbarre is a #1 New York Times bestselling writer and the author of SHOW, DON'T TELL: A Writer, Her Teacher, and the Power of Sharing Our Stories (Hachette/Worthy Books, 2025), and HOW TO LOVE AN AMERICAN MAN: A True Story (HarperCollins, 2011), as well as the lead editor for an internationally recognized magazine and website.
The post Teachers Are Vital — But Many Are Leaving the Profession appeared first on Katie Couric Media.
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San Francisco Chronicle
19 hours ago
- San Francisco Chronicle
US military chaplaincy marks 250 years of providing spiritual support to service members
(RNS) — In 1775, a year before there was a United States and six weeks after the Continental Army was formed, George Washington made a declaration that has shaped the military ever since. 'We need chaplains,' he reportedly remarked, prompting action by the Continental Congress near the start of the Revolutionary War. The U.S. military chaplaincy marked 250 years on July 29 as the national military marked its own 250th anniversary in June. A week of celebrations includes a golf tournament at Fort Jackson in South Carolina, hosted by an organization raising funds for scholarships for family members of chaplains, and a sold-out ball nearby in Columbia. Meanwhile, across the globe, thousands of clergy in uniform continue to provide counsel and care to military members of a range of faiths or no faith. 'In times of peace and war, our chaplains have held fast as beacons of hope and resilience for our troops, whether enduring the brutal winter of Valley Forge, comforting the wounded and dying on the battlefields during the Civil War, braving trench warfare in World War I, storming the beaches of Normandy during World War II, marching the frozen mountains during the Korean War, slogging through the rice paddies and jungle battlefields of Vietnam or traveling the bomb-filled roads of Iraq and Afghanistan,' said retired Chaplain (Major General) Doug Carver, a former Army chief of chaplains in charge of the Southern Baptist Convention's chaplaincy ministries, at the denomination's June annual meeting in Dallas. A month later at the annual session of the Progressive National Baptist Convention in Chicago, Navy Chaplain J.M. Smith, the grandson of a former PNBC president, stood before delegates and described his just-completed tour as a Marine Corps command chaplain in Okinawa, Japan, and his plans to report to a ship in Norfolk, Virginia, to begin a tour of Europe and the Middle East and be promoted to lieutenant commander. 'My team and I have ministered to thousands of Marines, sailors, civilians and Japanese,' he said. 'We increased our chapel's membership from eight to 100. We incorporated spiritual readiness into our base's core curriculum.'' ___ Chaplains serve in hospitals, hospices and manufacturing plants, and while chaplaincy researchers see commonalities among them, there are also key differences in the military. All are involved in gaining the trust of people who are in their particular milieu, enabling them to think and sometimes pray through their times of greatest need and day-to-day struggles. An example of both the danger and the dedication of military service chaplaincy is the 1943 death of four chaplains — two Protestant, one Catholic and one Jewish — who helped save some of those aboard a World War II ship, turning over their life jackets and praying and singing hymns before it sank. All four were trained at Harvard University, then the site of the Army's chaplain training school, during a two-year wartime period. "It was a real defining moment,' said retired Gen. Steve Schaick, who served as Air Force chief of chaplains from 2018 to 2021, and in the same role for the Space Force from 2019 to 2021. 'The stories that came from that really kind of highlighted chaplains at their best.' The Army's chaplaincy corps also includes religious affairs specialists and religious education directors. Some service members provide armed protection to unarmed chaplains and set up worship spaces in on-base chapels or makeshift altars on truck hoods in the field. For example, Berry Gordy, who later founded Motown Records, served as a private in the Korean War and played a portable organ and was known as a chaplain assistant, notes ' Sacred Duty,' a new comic book posted on the Army's website to mark the anniversary. While 218 chaplains served in the Revolutionary War, 9,117 chaplains served in World War II, according to the Army. Currently, the Army has 1,500 chaplains on active duty. The Navy Chaplain Corps, which began on Nov. 18, 1775, had 24 chaplains during the Civil War; 203 by the end of World War I; 1,158 at its height in 1990; and currently has 898 on active duty, according to the Navy. 'Today's Chaplain Corps includes Chaplains representing a multitude of faith groups, and the Chaplain Corps recruiting team is actively working to increase the Corps' diversity, with a special focus on increasing the number of women Chaplains in the Corps and the number of Chaplains representing low-density faith groups,' reads an Army historical booklet marking the Chaplain Corps' 250 years. Initially, U.S. military chaplains were Protestants. The first Catholic chaplains served in the Mexican-American War in 1846, and the first rabbi was commissioned in 1862 and served in the Civil War. The first Muslim chaplains were commissioned in the Army in 1993. The first Buddhist Army chaplain was named in 2008, followed by the first Hindu chaplain in 2011. Chaplain Margaret Kibben, acting chaplain of the House of Representatives and former chief of chaplains of the Navy — the first woman in that role — said the isolation and the immediacy of ethical decisions faced by military members, as well as a high level of confidentially, can make the work of military chaplaincy teams different from other settings where chaplains work. 'It's the one place that people can go where there's essentially a sanctuary around them, wherever they find themselves, a safe place to have somebody to talk to about a whole host of issues,' she said, adding that topics can include anything from supporting their families to handling combat responsibilities. 'How do you deal with those issues in a place where you're not going to look stupid, you're not going to look weak or unreliable because you have these doubts and you have these concerns — to have a place that you can go to ensure that you can get that off your chest?' Those private conversations often are not faith-filled, added Kibben, reflecting on her military career that began in 1986. 'What I realized later, 20, 30 years later, was that many service members have never learned the language of faith,' she said, citing terms like confession and forgiveness. 'So as a chaplain, we had to figure out our way around the lack of a lexicon of faith. How do you speak about grace to someone who doesn't have a clue how powerful grace is?' Another change, sparked by the efforts of Julie Moore, the wife of a military officer who served in the Vietnam War, was the Army's method for notifying the next of kin when a soldier died. Soon after a 1960s battle in that war, a chaplain and a uniformed officer began teaming up to knock on families' doors; prior to that time, the news arrived in a telegram delivered by a cab driver. The work of chaplains has sometimes been the source of church-state debates. For example, Michael 'Mikey' Weinstein of the Military Religious Freedom Foundation, a nonprofit that advocates for separation of church and state in the U.S. military, has questioned what he viewed as proselytism in the chaplains' ranks. Meanwhile, conservative Christian organizations have voiced concerns about an antipathy against some Christians in military ranks. Karen Diefendorf, a two-time Army chaplain and a board member of the U.S. Army Chaplain Corps Regimental Association, which supports chaplains and their families, said the primary goal for chaplains is 'to provide for the free exercise rights of every soldier, sailor, airman, Marine, Coast Guardsman.' She currently is an interim minister of an independent Methodist church in South Carolina, after serving as a chaplain at Tysons Foods and in hospice care. 'I had soldiers who were practitioners of Wiccan faith, and my job is not to say to them, 'Hey, wouldn't you like to love Jesus?'' she said, recalling how she assisted a Wiccan Army member serving in Korea. 'My job was to help that young soldier find where his particular group of folks met and where he could practice his faith.' Also during her service in Korea in the late 1990s and early 2000s, Diefendorf said she provided cassette tapes of sermons to soldiers and entrusted one with Communion elements because she knew she wouldn't be able to reach their location often. 'So far, the courts have upheld that you certainly have two competing clauses within the First Amendment, establishment and free exercise,' she said. 'And at this point, certainly chaplains have to walk that fine line not to create establishment in the midst of trying to also enable people to practice their beliefs.' Schaick recalled being deployed overseas in the Air Force when a new rabbi joined his staff. On arrival, the rabbi described himself as 'first and foremost a chaplain and secondarily a rabbi' — an order of priorities that Schaick said applies to chaplains to this day, regardless of their faith perspective. 'The longer you serve in the chaplaincy, I think the closer you get to really believing that — and therefore, religious affiliation becomes secondary,' he said. 'It's 'How're you doing today?' and 'I'd love to hear what's on your heart' and 'How can I be able to help you today?' Those kind of questions, quite frankly, are impervious to religious distinctions.'
Hamilton Spectator
19 hours ago
- Hamilton Spectator
US military chaplaincy marks 250 years of providing spiritual support to service members
(RNS) — In 1775, a year before there was a United States and six weeks after the Continental Army was formed, George Washington made a declaration that has shaped the military ever since. 'We need chaplains,' he reportedly remarked, prompting action by the Continental Congress near the start of the Revolutionary War. The U.S. military chaplaincy marked 250 years on July 29 as the national military marked its own 250th anniversary in June. A week of celebrations includes a golf tournament at Fort Jackson in South Carolina, hosted by an organization raising funds for scholarships for family members of chaplains, and a sold-out ball nearby in Columbia. Meanwhile, across the globe, thousands of clergy in uniform continue to provide counsel and care to military members of a range of faiths or no faith. 'In times of peace and war, our chaplains have held fast as beacons of hope and resilience for our troops, whether enduring the brutal winter of Valley Forge, comforting the wounded and dying on the battlefields during the Civil War, braving trench warfare in World War I, storming the beaches of Normandy during World War II, marching the frozen mountains during the Korean War, slogging through the rice paddies and jungle battlefields of Vietnam or traveling the bomb-filled roads of Iraq and Afghanistan,' said retired Chaplain (Major General) Doug Carver, a former Army chief of chaplains in charge of the Southern Baptist Convention's chaplaincy ministries, at the denomination's June annual meeting in Dallas. A month later at the annual session of the Progressive National Baptist Convention in Chicago, Navy Chaplain J.M. Smith, the grandson of a former PNBC president, stood before delegates and described his just-completed tour as a Marine Corps command chaplain in Okinawa, Japan, and his plans to report to a ship in Norfolk, Virginia, to begin a tour of Europe and the Middle East and be promoted to lieutenant commander. 'My team and I have ministered to thousands of Marines, sailors, civilians and Japanese,' he said. 'We increased our chapel's membership from eight to 100. We incorporated spiritual readiness into our base's core curriculum.'' ___ This content is written and produced by Religion News Service and distributed by The Associated Press. RNS and AP partner on some religion news content. RNS is solely responsible for this story. ___ Chaplains serve in hospitals, hospices and manufacturing plants, and while chaplaincy researchers see commonalities among them, there are also key differences in the military. All are involved in gaining the trust of people who are in their particular milieu, enabling them to think and sometimes pray through their times of greatest need and day-to-day struggles. An example of both the danger and the dedication of military service chaplaincy is the 1943 death of four chaplains — two Protestant, one Catholic and one Jewish — who helped save some of those aboard a World War II ship, turning over their life jackets and praying and singing hymns before it sank. All four were trained at Harvard University , then the site of the Army's chaplain training school, during a two-year wartime period. 'It was a real defining moment,' said retired Gen. Steve Schaick, who served as Air Force chief of chaplains from 2018 to 2021, and in the same role for the Space Force from 2019 to 2021. 'The stories that came from that really kind of highlighted chaplains at their best.' The Army's chaplaincy corps also includes religious affairs specialists and religious education directors. Some service members provide armed protection to unarmed chaplains and set up worship spaces in on-base chapels or makeshift altars on truck hoods in the field. For example, Berry Gordy, who later founded Motown Records, served as a private in the Korean War and played a portable organ and was known as a chaplain assistant, notes ' Sacred Duty ,' a new comic book posted on the Army's website to mark the anniversary. While 218 chaplains served in the Revolutionary War, 9,117 chaplains served in World War II, according to the Army. Currently, the Army has 1,500 chaplains on active duty. The Navy Chaplain Corps, which began on Nov. 18, 1775, had 24 chaplains during the Civil War; 203 by the end of World War I; 1,158 at its height in 1990; and currently has 898 on active duty, according to the Navy. 'Today's Chaplain Corps includes Chaplains representing a multitude of faith groups, and the Chaplain Corps recruiting team is actively working to increase the Corps' diversity, with a special focus on increasing the number of women Chaplains in the Corps and the number of Chaplains representing low-density faith groups,' reads an Army historical booklet marking the Chaplain Corps' 250 years. Initially, U.S. military chaplains were Protestants. The first Catholic chaplains served in the Mexican-American War in 1846, and the first rabbi was commissioned in 1862 and served in the Civil War. The first Muslim chaplains were commissioned in the Army in 1993. The first Buddhist Army chaplain was named in 2008, followed by the first Hindu chaplain in 2011. Chaplain Margaret Kibben, acting chaplain of the House of Representatives and former chief of chaplains of the Navy — the first woman in that role — said the isolation and the immediacy of ethical decisions faced by military members, as well as a high level of confidentially, can make the work of military chaplaincy teams different from other settings where chaplains work. 'It's the one place that people can go where there's essentially a sanctuary around them, wherever they find themselves, a safe place to have somebody to talk to about a whole host of issues,' she said, adding that topics can include anything from supporting their families to handling combat responsibilities. 'How do you deal with those issues in a place where you're not going to look stupid, you're not going to look weak or unreliable because you have these doubts and you have these concerns — to have a place that you can go to ensure that you can get that off your chest?' Those private conversations often are not faith-filled, added Kibben, reflecting on her military career that began in 1986. 'What I realized later, 20, 30 years later, was that many service members have never learned the language of faith,' she said, citing terms like confession and forgiveness. 'So as a chaplain, we had to figure out our way around the lack of a lexicon of faith. How do you speak about grace to someone who doesn't have a clue how powerful grace is?' Another change, sparked by the efforts of Julie Moore, the wife of a military officer who served in the Vietnam War, was the Army's method for notifying the next of kin when a soldier died. Soon after a 1960s battle in that war, a chaplain and a uniformed officer began teaming up to knock on families' doors; prior to that time, the news arrived in a telegram delivered by a cab driver. The work of chaplains has sometimes been the source of church-state debates. For example, Michael 'Mikey' Weinstein of the Military Religious Freedom Foundation, a nonprofit that advocates for separation of church and state in the U.S. military, has questioned what he viewed as proselytism in the chaplains' ranks. Meanwhile, conservative Christian organizations have voiced concerns about an antipathy against some Christians in military ranks. Karen Diefendorf, a two-time Army chaplain and a board member of the U.S. Army Chaplain Corps Regimental Association, which supports chaplains and their families, said the primary goal for chaplains is 'to provide for the free exercise rights of every soldier, sailor, airman, Marine, Coast Guardsman.' She currently is an interim minister of an independent Methodist church in South Carolina, after serving as a chaplain at Tysons Foods and in hospice care. 'I had soldiers who were practitioners of Wiccan faith, and my job is not to say to them, 'Hey, wouldn't you like to love Jesus?'' she said, recalling how she assisted a Wiccan Army member serving in Korea. 'My job was to help that young soldier find where his particular group of folks met and where he could practice his faith.' Also during her service in Korea in the late 1990s and early 2000s, Diefendorf said she provided cassette tapes of sermons to soldiers and entrusted one with Communion elements because she knew she wouldn't be able to reach their location often. 'So far, the courts have upheld that you certainly have two competing clauses within the First Amendment, establishment and free exercise,' she said. 'And at this point, certainly chaplains have to walk that fine line not to create establishment in the midst of trying to also enable people to practice their beliefs.' Schaick recalled being deployed overseas in the Air Force when a new rabbi joined his staff. On arrival, the rabbi described himself as 'first and foremost a chaplain and secondarily a rabbi' — an order of priorities that Schaick said applies to chaplains to this day, regardless of their faith perspective. 'The longer you serve in the chaplaincy, I think the closer you get to really believing that — and therefore, religious affiliation becomes secondary,' he said. 'It's 'How're you doing today?' and 'I'd love to hear what's on your heart' and 'How can I be able to help you today?' Those kind of questions, quite frankly, are impervious to religious distinctions.' Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content. Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . 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Cosmopolitan
a day ago
- Cosmopolitan
7 Years Into my Marriage, I Finally Stopped Expecting the Worst
Sometimes, I try to remember when I became afraid of believing it would all be okay. I assume it was when I was a small child and things rarely seemed to work in my favor. I've had therapists suggest this is rooted in early mistrust of my caretakers (feasible) or lingering trauma from a marching-band–related incident (not impossible but much less feasible). My single mother worked hard, but as the eldest sibling of four kids, holidays were typically disappointing for me, and worse, my birthday landed two weeks after Christmas... and two days after my much cuter baby sister's. It felt like a cosmic setup. The chronic disappointment was torturous, so I opted out. I wouldn't need to stop crying over another heartbreaking near-miss if I just chose to never again expect to get what I want. As an adult, I started dating my now-husband, Kelly, in college during our last year of living on campus in Muncie, Indiana, but I refused to call him my boyfriend. Our first date had been wonderful, but within weeks of four-wheeling, skeet shooting, talking, kissing, and revealing our amorous intentions toward each other, he found out he'd been accepted into an arts internship in New York City. In a matter of months, he'd be sharing a room in a brownstone turned dormitory, working with poets and other writers, professionals in the industry we both hoped to be employed in someday. I was happy for him—I even helped him celebrate the news—but I also assumed it meant that whatever flame flickered between us would soon die out. Typical, I thought, just as I was realizing how much I wanted him. But it didn't make sense to me that two people in their early 20s would make a risky commitment right as one of them prepared to start building a life in the most exciting city in the world. It wasn't low self-esteem; I just knew I wasn't that lucky. I told Kelly we should break it off. He said, 'But I really want to keep spending time together.' And even though I was certain it was a bad idea, I agreed. We spent the rest of the semester sharing meals, throwing parties, attending literary readings, throwing literary readings that were also parties, sleeping together, laughing together, and, in doing so, falling in love in a way I refused to accept. Our time felt limited, so I tried to cherish it, knowing it might never be this way again. Knowing I might not ever be this happy with anyone else. But at least I hadn't fooled myself into thinking this would be forever, a consolation as disappointing as it was unsatisfying. When the time came for him to leave our little college town, we parted on great terms. Still, I sobbed for days, convinced I would never see him again. It was almost two years after the first lap around one another's hearts that Kelly came back for me. He'd left New York once his internship ended and moved with a friend to Seattle. I'd left our college town and moved to Indianapolis. He called and asked if he could come to my apartment and say hello. I was excited to see him but also determined not to get my hopes up about rekindling our romance. I'd worked to convince myself to move him firmly into the Friend Category, no matter what my heart told me. I didn't want to want him. No, that's not true. I didn't want to lose him because of how much I wanted him. When I answered his knock, a controlled smile donned like armor, he took my face in his hands and bent down to kiss me. When the kiss ended, he looked me in the eyes and asked, 'Are you seeing anybody?' I shook my head before taking his hand and bringing him inside. Getting what I wanted felt unfamiliar, especially when what or who I wanted wanted me back. I didn't expect him to stay with me that night. I didn't think he meant it when he said he wanted to try again with intention. But he did. We went on like this, me expecting this time to be the last time and him continuing to show up anyway. I'm ashamed to say I tested him. Before I'd agree to be in a real relationship, I laid myself bare. I told him what I wanted from my life and what I wanted from a partner. Love, support, encouragement, accountability, loyalty—all of it. I thought the details would scare him off. He responded, 'I'm not everything you want or need—yet. But I believe I can be.' When I then told him I had gotten a job offer in New York and would be moving there, I expected him to remind me that he never wanted to live in New York again and that our relationship couldn't sustain an even longer distance from each other. I prepared my heart to break. But he said, 'I'll meet you in New York.' When my dear grandmother passed away three weeks after Kelly moved from Seattle into my Brooklyn apartment, he told me everything was going to be okay and held me when I woke up from grief-induced nightmares. He sat at the far end of my desk while I wrote about hard things so I didn't have to be alone. He nursed me back to health, physically and emotionally, on numerous occasions and insisted I seek and receive help for my mental health. And while neither of us ever had grand designs on marriage, three years after moving across the country so I could live my dreams, he proposed. I said yes, and I meant it, but I still waited for that hovering other shoe to drop. In the darkest corners of my mind, I left room for my old friend Disappointment. I waited to feel stuck or unsure or abandoned. I waited for what felt familiar. Those feelings never bloomed. And trust me, I looked for them: Most days since we got married, seven years ago this September, I've wondered if I'm walking headfirst into the biggest letdown of my existence. Is that seven year itch going to show up now? How easy is it to know if you're falling out of love? Does the fact that I'm still having so much fun with my husband even mean anything? What I've ultimately decided is that those are moot questions. If I'm honest with myself, the worrying and avoidance have never saved me from disappointment, not even once. They've only been tools I used to rob myself of the excitement and joy I've always been entitled to. At some point, I have to decide that the pleasure of my marriage is sweeter than the anticipation of bitterness. In fact, I'll make that decision now. Because that's what I truly want.
