Watching Abbott Elementary as a secondary education major is hilarious until Jacob gets humbled and I’m suddenly reminded of my future. Still, I’m rooting for us both.
Abbott Elementary is a mockumentary sitcom created by Quinta Brunson that follows a group of underfunded Philadelphia public school teachers doing their best for their students. Between the chaotic principal, questionable school funding and teachers who genuinely care, there’s something to love for everyone.
After binge-watching five seasons in September, I can confidently say this show has become my newest hyperfixation. If you haven’t watched it yet, I 1000% recommend it. And if that doesn’t convince you, please watch the show’s gorgeous edits on TikTok. That being said, here’s why I love it.
Learning to Laugh at myself
I won’t lie, Jacob is my twin. Maybe it’s because he teaches middle school history and I’m biased since I also want to teach middle school, but can you blame a girl? Jacob really wants his students to connect with what he’s teaching, but it can come out as painfully cringe. I feel for him because there’s something vulnerable about caring in front of people, especially pre-teens. I can easily imagine myself getting excited about a book or planning a discussion only to be humbled by a student, just like Jacob. I taught a lesson on metaphors to an 8th grade class my senior year where only one student engaged, and I later cried to my mentor teacher.
But Jacob’s embarrassment and my own don’t make us bad teachers, and that’s something I need to remember going into this profession. I want students to enjoy my class, but their approval isn’t my only measure of how well I’m doing my job. Watching Jacob keep trying makes those moments feel less intimidating, even if I know I’ll end up “cringy”.
a classroom of my own
Watching Abbott also makes me impatient to have a classroom of my own. I daydream about books we’ll read, conversations that might come out of them and reading my students’ thoughts. For now, I’m still just sitting in the classroom taking notes as a student teacher, but watching these teacher characters makes the future I yearn for feel closer.
There’s so much to explore, and I’m often excited to find out what my students will teach me along the way while watching Abbott. Then Ava walks into a scene, and I’m reminded that having ideas and getting support for them are two very different things. I love Ava as a character, but imagining myself working under an admin with similar ideas is where some of my excitement turns into worry.
I can laugh at Ava’s dismissiveness from the comfort of my bed, but hearing stories from other educators makes the enjoyable fiction a scary reality. What worries me is entering school eager but slowly losing my enthusiasm from that lack of support. Still, I appreciate that the show gives Ava room to become more involved. It makes me hopeful that the admin can learn from teachers. Like Abbott‘s teachers, I’m preparing to take my students’ needs seriously, and I want to work somewhere that takes mine seriously as well, even if that means I have to pull a Schemmenti.
Hopeful for the future
Watching Barbara reassure Janine in “Educator of the Year” makes me hopeful about finding that support, especially because I’ve already had a teacher offer it to me. She tells Janine, “People have thrown dirt on my name. Others have given flowers. But it’s all a garden to me.”
Hearing that brought me back to my high school future educator course. My teacher gave us Jennifer Gonzalez’s article, “Find Your Marigold,” along with a packet of marigold seeds. The article encourages new teachers to find colleagues who support their growth when teaching gets difficult. That’s how I see Barbara in this scene. Even if she can be a little harsh, she’s someone Janine can turn to when she’s struggling to believe in herself.
I still have the packet going into my second year of university, and I’ll probably only plant the seeds when I feel ready. I don’t know exactly when that will be. For now, I like knowing I’ve held onto something a teacher gave me while I was imagining whether this could be my future. Watching Barbara support Janine reminds me that becoming a teacher doesn’t mean I suddenly stop needing teachers myself. I need people I can ask for help without feeling embarrassed that I don’t already know the answer.
I think that’s why Abbott means so much to me at this point of my education. I’m watching with the excitement of someone who chose this profession and the nerves of someone who hasn’t fully stepped into it yet. The show gives me room to feel both. I don’t leave every episode feeling prepared (although that would be nice); I leave wanting to teach. Hopefully, when I finally plant those marigolds, I’ll have found a few people to grow alongside, just like the educators in Abbott.