"V" is for Venting

I came to the startling realization today that my career, my profession, has been demoted, at least socially and economically, to a job. What's the difference? Well, a career requires careful preparation and schooling. It demands respect and is hard to obtain, even more difficult to keep, and with those merits comes great reward (well, that's the theory). The pride of choosing a career that is not obtainable to just anyone. The power of knowing that you chose this job just as surely as it chose you. I use to think that teaching felt like a lock to my key. I was made for it. I worked hard to get there. I have left much student debt in my wake to become a teacher. And for what? To watch it become just a job in people's eyes.
I have been in a pay freeze for three years with no end in sight. No, I didn't think I would get rich by teaching, but I should as hell didn't think I would stay just above the poverty line. I earn every dollar I make and every dollar I should be making. In the past six years, I have gone from having 94 students to having over 120. The list of requirements on my job description increase three fold yearly. I am no longer in charge of the 14 Standards of Learning for life science. I am in charge of the other 37 Standards of Learning that don't get taught in elementary school science because there was an assembly to attend or a social studies project that went on longer than expected.
Do the math. I have 120 students x 5 assignments each per week = 600 pieces of paper to grade each week. When? The hour I am given as planning each day? Well, here is more math for you. I am required to spend 10 of those minutes doing hall duty. Take away another 15 minutes to track down absent students and get them their missing work. Another 20 minutes to play phone tag with the parent avoiding my calls about her son who can't sit still and won't shut up. 15 minutes to copy the 120 papers I hand out with every assignment, just to collect and grade those same 120 assignments, and I am left with 5 minutes for a potty break and 1 minute to catch my breath.
I may leave that building at 3 PM every day, but the job never leaves me. I am on "duty" when a student comes to me before class to tell me someone is bullying her; I am out another lunch period to catch up the student who didn't come to school for two weeks because her father thought it was a great time to vacation in Florida. I spend the three minutes between every class reminding students to sit down, get out your notes, get started on the bell ringer, for the last time, get in your seat, no you can't use the bathroom, no I don't take late homework, get in your seat and get started, the bell has rung, no you don't need water right now, just get started on the work.
Every day I remind myself more and more of a babysitter. The trickle down effect means that parents do not respect the job I do and as a result, their children do not respect the job I do for them. I am expected to dish out smiles and compliments when I receive eye rolls, sighs, excuses, complaints, and objections. No, it's not every day nor is it every student. But it's often enough to wear down the highest of morales, and at the end of the day, I don't have much left for my family at home. Except for a mountain of papers to grade.