From Agony to Ecstasy
Several longtime teachers at my school are retiring this year, one with over 35 years on the job. It’s hard not to think about them as I go through my daily rituals. This will be the last time they ever give an exam, calculate a grade, participate in a fire drill, take kids to an assembly, listen to morning announcements, sign a yearbook or attend graduation ceremonies. In fact, those of us who went into teaching right out of college have been on the academic calendar since kindergarten! So much of who we are starts in September and ends in June.
My last couple of columns have concentrated on why people are not opting for teaching as a career. It is a sad reality, but it’s hard to argue with the many valid reasons for this situation. Nevertheless, there are those young people who are still choosing education as a profession and many veterans who continue to stick with it. Clearly, we had other career choices, but this is what we wanted. Despite the fraying carpets, dog-eared textbooks and endless paperwork, we’re not leaving.
So what is it about this job that manages to attract a loyal following?
For starters, no two days are ever alike and no two students are ever the same. The job can be frustrating and exhausting, but it’s never boring.
Secondly, teaching is a job that matters. Obviously, many jobs do, but it’s hard to think of too many things as important as teaching someone to read, to add, to write, to know the past, to understand democracy, to speak another language, to see how things work, to draw, or to love music. For me, introducing a young person to “The Grapes of Wrath” or “Hamlet” is as good as it gets. A teacher is given the opportunity to provide this magical bridge between not knowing and knowing.
There is also something indescribably exciting about helping someone “get it,” be it poetry or a geometric proof. When you’re in front of that class on a roll, there’s no feeling like it in the world. The sense that something important is happening feels almost like electricity running through the room. At times like this, it’s hard to imagine doing anything else.
A job is only as good as your fellow workers, and teaching attracts some wonderful souls. To survive in this profession you have to be independent, creative, flexible and a bit crazy. Many of my colleagues have a sense of humor that can cope with almost any absurdity.
One fellow teacher loves to quote Joseph Conrad during faculty meetings: “The horror! The horror!” Teachers can be a lot like war buddies, swapping stories of classroom battles or small victories in the field. My current student teacher is going to fit in beautifully; she frequently bursts into songs from “Gypsy” when she enters the classroom.
But above all, it’s about students. No matter how demanding this job gets, they somehow manage to make it worthwhile. Granted, there are kids who create serious problems for us. And even basically good kids can be difficult and downright infuriating at times. But so much of the time our students are funny, interesting and delightful.
One junior girl wrote the following in my yearbook: “Thanks to you, I am now a much better writter.” In that same class, another young man gave me a card that said, “You’re like Mr. Keating in the ‘Dead Poets Society,’ except you’re a woman.”
On the more serious side, one girl said that she raised her hand in my class for the first time in 12 years of schooling, and a boy admitted he’d never read a novel until his junior year with me. Many of us never tire of those immortal words: “I always hated (fill in the subject) until this year.’ ”
Sometimes the real measure of student success comes after they’ve moved on. The boy who almost didn’t graduate now taking 20 units at Orange Coast College. The quiet student graduating from Boalt Law School. The girl with that unique giggle earning a PhD in mathematics. The former varsity basketball player working for the World Court. The feisty guy in the wheelchair now teaching next door to me.
When things click with students, teaching can be more rewarding than any job out there. And I guess it’s because of such rewards that we want what’s best for kids. Despite all indications to the contrary, we continue to believe that eventually our classes will get smaller, we’ll get the new textbooks, the bond issue will pass, our room will get painted, our raise will go through, and people in power will take notice. What else can we do? The alternative is to quit, and we’re not about to do that. We care too much about kids to abandon them. That doesn’t mean we’re not painfully aware of the very real problems that exist. But it’s because we love and care about this profession that we continue to fight the good fight.
I try to imagine a June day, some years from now, looking at that room of empty desks and locking the door behind me for the last time. It puts a lump in my throat just thinking about it. This job can drive me up the wall at times, but it’s also given me some of the most wonderful moments life can offer. Twenty-seven years ago, my English methods instructor asked each one of us why we wanted to become teachers. I said I wanted to make a difference in kids’ lives. It was a good reason then, and it still is.
