Abbott Elementary Is Keeping Me, A Black Teacher, In Education
perserverance. ingenuity. and effort
Hey y’all,
**THE EVENT HAS BEEN POSTPONED DUE TO SCHEDULING. STAY TUNED FOR UPDATES ON THE NEW DATE SOON!**
This Week’s Story
If you’re a fan of Quinta Brunson and her prodigious debut show, Abbott Elementary, this week’s story by writer Alicia Simba is going to make you feel all warm inside (and also upset at the continued lack of funding for public schools—both fictional and real).
Take care,
Anayo Awuzie
EIC of Carefree Media
Why Abbott Elementary Is Keeping Me In Education
By Alicia Simba
When the ABC sitcom Abbott Elementary first debuted in the winter of 2021, my friends would not stop texting me.
Have you heard about Abbott Elementary?!
Yes.
Have you watched Abbott Elementary?!
Yes.
Do you like Abbott Elementary?!
I love it.
The television program about the adventures of a young Black woman who, in her second year of teaching at a predominantly Black, public elementary school, aired exactly as I, a young Black woman, was starting my second year of teaching at a predominantly Black, public elementary school.
I love Abbott first and foremost because it is a genuinely hilarious show. The writing keeps me hooked to find out what will happen in the next episode, and the actors’ performances fill me with joy as soon as their respective characters appear on screen. I see myself in its protagonist, Janine, and all of her adventures that were strangely similar to my own life.
In the first season, we see the staff of Philly teachers travail through just a few of the realities of teaching in an underfunded and underresourced school district. There is no money to buy new rugs for the classroom, broken light fixtures disilluminated the hallways, and a donated printer required hours of fixing.
In my real life, things were going similarly. On the other side of the country in Oakland, California, I had to scavenge for chairs for my kindergarteners, unclog the toilet in my classroom, and I try and fail to revive the 30-year-old VCR player in my classroom where I had planned for us to watch The Lion King during a rainy day. It was exhausting.
Abbott depicts the lack of investment in public schools, particularly in schools serving predominantly students of color like mine and Janine’s. It also, importantly, depicts the toll of disinvestment on educators. As a new teacher, the constant uphill battles were wearing me out, but a new episode of Abbott each week would lift my spirits. I found humor in my struggles. I felt less alone. And when a veteran teacher told Janine, “We care so much, we refuse to burn out,” it gave me permission to let go of and work to make it to another year. Which I did.
In season 2, Abbott reflected on the more existential crises facing public education. Episodes depicted a student in a wheelchair requiring accommodations, teacher shortages leading to combining classes, and a nearby charter school threatening the closure of Abbott’s campus.
I faithfully tuned in and again saw Abbott storylines take place in my own life. A student enrolled in my class had cerebral palsy. I had to teach a combination class with four-, five-, and six-year-olds all in the same room as co-workers left midway through the school year. My school district was embroiled in a school closure battle that culminated in protests and a hunger strike.
These were problems that could not be solved in a 22-minute run time. Abbott Elementary has been on the air at a time when narratives around public education trumpet all that is wrong with our schools, and Abbott does not shy away from the truth. But it does provide a counternarrative, centering teachers who are often paradoxically excluded from education discourse. On Abbott and in real life, I saw teachers “show up everyday to do their best,” as one character put it, and by honoring our efforts in the face of challenges, the show kept me going.
Then, in the show’s third and most recent season, Janine accepts a fellowship with the district and leaves the classroom to enact wider change. Eerily, I embarked on a fellowship at the same time. I was able to remain in the classroom and still join a cohort of teachers across the state to work on education policy issues, meeting with lawmakers, speaking at hearings, and more.
The opportunity was amazing, but my heart remained stubbornly with my kids. Working towards long-term solutions in education across the state felt powerful, and getting to make an immediate impact in the lives of my students every day felt powerful too. By the end of the season, Janine’s life fell in step with mine. “I love being a teacher,” she says when she decides to return. “It’s who I am.”
According to a study published by the University of Pennsylvania Graduate School, 44% of new teachers leave in the first five years. I have watched peers and colleagues leave due to burnout, but I have watched others leave due to the nagging feeling that they should be doing more. I have felt this way myself, wondering if teaching in my small corner of the world is enough to make a difference. Working for the district, working for the state, working in nonprofits—all of those options could potentially lead to me making more lasting change for more children.
But when Janine left and came back, she validated what I felt all along: that teaching can also be enough. That teaching, in and of itself, is a valiant effort. When I build a relationship with a student and their families, my impact will last for decades and will reverberate in the community and beyond. What I teach my students in my class will stay with them and guide them into the professions and ambitions they will pursue. How my students see themselves will begin in my classroom, and the work I do to affirm their humanity will inform how they treat everyone else they encounter in their lives. Teaching matters.
And even if Janine, myself, or others choose to leave—which we might still do—it feels good to know that I am allowed to stay. If staying in the classroom is right for Janine, then it’s right for me too. And I am using the validation stemming from that representation to fuel me into my upcoming fifth year of teaching.
Abbott Elementary has done what all good television does by leaving a profound impact on me and so many others. A Different World influenced a generation of young people to enroll in Historically Black Colleges and Universities in the 1980s. Living Single’s Maxine Shaw, "attorney-at-law,” inspired Black women in the 1990s to become lawyers. My hope is that decades from now, we will see Abbott Elementary inspire a generation of teachers, Black teachers in particular. It already inspires me.
Alicia Simba is a public school teacher living and working in Oakland, California. Her writing has been published in Teen Vogue, Slate, and Blavity, and more.