Abstract
Teacher attrition costs school districts in the United States an estimated $2.2 billion annually. Further, nearly one in five new teachers leave the profession within 5 years of starting their career. Although several factors are cited for this high rate of exodus, issues associated with burn-out are among the chief causes. Christian teachers are not immune from the stressors such as classroom management or the administrative demands of assessment. Yet, because many believe they have been called by God, Christian teachers often feel the need to love more, do more, or be more as an extension of their faith. In her book, The Cry of the Teacher’s Soul, Laurie Matthias addresses factors of burn-out which, although not unique to Christian educators, may be more profoundly felt as a result of faith.
Empathetic in tone, Matthias’s book is theologically grounded while acknowledging that simply knowing one’s theology better is insufficient to deal with the demoralizing effects of burn-out. Here Matthias notes the need to embrace many paradoxes in the Christian faith, requiring teachers “to think and to live in a both/and rather than either/or” manner (p. xv). Subsequently, each chapter targets a peculiar “cry” while focusing on a particular paradox. Matthias starts with the tension between idealism and realism (chap. 2). Ensuing chapters address the theological reality of dying to live, the call to be sacrificial while caring for self, the need to perform while remaining authentic, acknowledging being a sinner who is also loved by God, and, appropriately, balancing theological knowing with feeling.
Reflecting the paradoxes it encourages the reader to embrace, the book is a tenuous blend of theology and psychology. Key to the work is the biblical meta-narrative of creation, fall, redemption, and consummation—reflected in the paradox of shalom but not yet—that all is reconciled through Christ and, although accomplished, is not complete. Subsequently, we struggle to experience the peace that, theologically, we know we have. As teachers, our response should be to “recognize our work as part of God’s design for us” while still noting the ugliness in the world and working to restore justice within it (p. 26). To embrace shalom is to be transformed by its reality—to see our work as a gift that “shapes us, often changing the way we think, feel, and act” (p. 27). It is this junction of knowing and feeling where the book takes on an experiential, therapeutic, almost mystical quality. The entitled cry of the soul is not simply one of the head but requires an appropriate change of heart. Proper theology forms the foundation for the heart changes necessary to avoid disillusionment and demoralization. Yet, reason is insufficient to resolve the paradoxes that must be embraced.
The paradoxes of teaching will be familiar to anyone having read Parker Palmer’s The Courage to Teach (Jossey-Bass, 1998)—a work frequently cited by Matthias. For Palmer, good teaching is not simply technique, but requires integrity and involvement of the self in the role of teacher. Good teachers, for Palmer, are not made, but are. This idea seems consistent with the teacher vignettes Matthias uses to begin each chapter. Matthias’s book, however, is more distinctively Christian, where identity with Christ is foundational and where the healthy Christian teacher is one who is growing in that identification.
The profundity of paradox, however, does not easily lead to procedures, and here is where I struggled with the book. Matthias acknowledges that teaching, unlike many professions, is highly personal. As a result, “we cannot separate our inner lives from our professional lives. It is absolutely essential that every teacher engage in this important inner work” (p. 10). This engagement necessitates personal and professional reflection—“the kind that digs deep, is risky … [requiring] a vulnerability that is often uncomfortable” (p. 11). Yet, throughout the book, insights into the struggles endemic to teaching do not translate into practices that easily address disillusionment. Here, admittedly, the problem may lie more with me than in Matthias’s presentation. For those more stoic, like myself, the paradoxes Matthias presents are more puzzles to be resolved than enigmas to be embraced. For Teresa of Avila, “we can only learn to know ourselves and do what we can—namely, to surrender our will and fulfill God’s will in us.” Those who can more easily approach this state will find Matthias’s book a great encouragement.