Last week a hopeful and bouncy teenager from a small town near the Canadian border observed my third period class. This young lady used to attend my high school and wanted to do a job shadow at the school in special education. My juniors were no more or no less their usual selves and they were quite intrigued by her presence especially when she asked them questions at the end of class. She had questions for me, too. Of course, she asked the question I always dread: Why did you become a teacher?
Always with that question. Always.
The truth is, I never set out wanting to be a teacher. It wasn't my ambition. It wasn't what I initially signed up for when I went to college. In fact, like many others I know, I came to education as a second option. A second option that was more my mother's suggestion and pushing than any real dedication or passion on my part. However, I've come to truly love some aspects of my job.
Um, no. That's not it. Not it at all.
I love sharing my fascination with research when it comes to assigning our big projects. Nerding out in front of my classes is fun and shows an enthusiasm for life-long learning that I hope some of them will develop. I frequently complete a research project along with them to model the process, excitement, and frustrations for them. I don't think I've ever used the same research project twice. Part of that is because focus of projects changes sometimes according to the new curriculum guidelines, but also because how I teach different projects changes from one year to the next. You have to adapt and retool all the time, and there's never enough time to get it all done. Besides, I truly just enjoy researching topics that are of interest. I think it's good for my students to see that curiosity and interest develop organically. It also keeps me current on my source material.
Proper research. Got it, Giles.
Another thing I love is seeing the wheels turning in my students' minds until they have that "Ah-ha!" moment. I know it infuriates some that I don't always just give an answer to them. I usually don't give an answer if the answer is readily available if they'd use their own observation skills or prior knowledge of class procedures. If I can ask questions to guide their thinking rather than injecting them with my opinion, that is a far better lesson. I cherish those moments whether big or small when the light of "I get it" goes on and they make a connection to something like Shakespeare or see a challenge they face themselves in a story from a century ago. I firmly believe that the stories of humanity are where we come together.
That's not quite what I meant. At all.
Watching them succeed also makes my day. I had a young lady come up to me Friday who is so excited. She's always wanted to be a game tester and she has a job shadow scheduled soon. This is an opportunity for her to possibly get some vital information about what kind of training she needs as well as a potential for a part-time position. She was so giddy, I could not help but get swept up in her excitement. I truly hope it works out for her.
I really want her to succeed.
Despite these things, I still have an overwhelming sense of dread at times. They never tell you how grossly inadequate you will feel most days. Sometimes I sit back and reflect on the day and just beat myself up for flubbing a lesson or not catching some crisis before it imploded. I know sometimes I can't control nor be held responsible for what has happened, but that feeling of inadequacy is stifling. Some days I feel like there is no way I can get up the next day and go back because I screwed up so much the day before. I know some of this is my anxiety, but I can't quite put to words the crushing awareness I have some times that I have absolutely no business being a teacher. It's one of the most crucial professional career paths in our society. It is to be valued, revered, and respected, yet I know I am not one of those Hollywood teachers that the public idealizes. In order to be a Dangerous Minds or Freedom Writers kind of teacher, you have to give up a part of yourself. If you have a family yourself, there's no way you can achieve that standard of the idealized teacher. If you have a chronic illness(es) as I do, you can never grab that brass ring. Trying to do so will do nothing but make your family resent that you're never around or make your chronic illness unbearable. That idealized version of educators is an unhealthy ideal. I know many educators who look down on those of us who leave at the end of our duty day. I know many who scoff at those of us who don't go in on the weekends to work or who don't bring work home. I make no apologies for my boundaries. I do what I can. I do what I need to. I won't let others shame me for it.
Even the bunny ain't got time for that nonsense.
I have been doing this job for 15 years now. I have 5 more until I can collect my full retirement. I heard a good news report that finally our teacher pension seemed to be turning around and not in danger of being bankrupted the way they've been saying for years. I have to make it 5 more years, and right now I question if I will. Between my fears regarding the changes coming to education under the Electric Cheeto in Chief, my own daily struggle to do the very best I can every day, and the knowledge that my health is declining despite my best efforts to avoid it, 5 years seems like an eternity. Even if I make it 5 more years, what the hell will I do after? I'm young enough to still work, but my health is variable. Will there still be health care coverage, or will the new administration make it impossible for someone like me to obtain affordable coverage? Is there I job in this town that I can do and still get enough sleep without the paralyzing stress? Will I be forced to seek disability because my migraines just won't abate? Will there even be such a thing as disability in a few years? I just don't know and it worries me.
Already there, Aladdin. Already there.
When you're a teacher, people expect you to always say you love your job, and I do. Some days. Some days though the frustration wraps around me like a suffocating piece of plastic intent on robbing me of air. Some days I don't love my job. A few years back, I truly felt like I'd have to be out of education by now. I had a plan, but that got rather thrown aside due to personal life turmoil. Best laid plans never go as planned. Never. So here I am. Still teaching. Still finding those moments to cling to. Still feeling like a fraud because I am not nor have I ever been
that teacher. I still show up every day. I still do my very best to do no harm. I hope the new guy in the White House doesn't fuck things up for our nation's young people. I hope my health lets me keep going. It's not even winter break yet and I am so very tired. But I keep going.
You and me both, big guy.
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