Leadership.
Let's make one thing clear: this is a hard job. It's hard to be a teacher. It's hard to lead one hundred and fifty students every day for a whole school year.
It's hard to be in this position in a community that does not seem to value what we do or education in general. It's hard to host parent-teacher conferences during the third nine weeks of school and only have parents of ELEVEN students show up, even though you were there from 10:30 am to 6:00 pm, and even though you teach one hundred and fifty students. One hundred and fifty. (see left, names and info. blurred for privacy) |
I've encountered several high school classmates in the time that I have been a part of Teacher Corps -- particularly the girls that weren't friends with me -- particularly the girls that didn't like me. I see them at the Mall (it actually still exists in Jackson) or at parties or events. I see them with their adorable babies and their adorable husbands and their adorable jobs and their adorable lives. They seem successful. They wear scrubs and push strollers and drink real wine that doesn't even come out of a box. Their husbands look supportive and functional and helpful. And it all just looks so nice from this side of the fence. And then there is me.
"Mollie?? Is that you???" (Like they don't know)
"Hey, (Stacie)! Good to see you!" (Feigned excitement)
"So, what are you doing now??" (Like they really want to know)
"Oh, I'm a teacher." (Selling myself short)
"That's really great -- good for you." (???)
"Hey, (Stacie)! Good to see you!" (Feigned excitement)
"So, what are you doing now??" (Like they really want to know)
"Oh, I'm a teacher." (Selling myself short)
"That's really great -- good for you." (???)
What does this even mean? "Good for you"?? I've gotten this response on several occasions and it truly baffles me. Since then, I've decided that I'm really approaching it wrong, and I'm doing myself and my work a disservice: not only am I a teacher during a time when many of my peers have opted for more financially lucrative careers, but I am a public school teacher while I am working on my Master's Degree in order to be come a better public school teacher. When I frame it like this in my mind, I know that I am doing the right thing -- not just for myself, but also for the youth that I teach. But compared to them with the strollers and the scrubs and the wine and the husbands, sometimes I think I've made the wrong choice.
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And cheers to me. I can have wine, too.
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But these aren't "hoodlums", promise.
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People my age, especially the ones making twice as much money as me, seem to look on my career choice with pity. I often wonder what they think I do all day -- they probably envision me sitting on a chair reading Dr. Seuss to wide-eyed children, eager to learn and listen to every word I say. People my parents' age seem to think that I'm doing something rare, maybe even noble, but they don't get it. Why would I want to teach at a public school (D rated, at that) when I could teach at my high school alma mater (Catholic, with mostly well-off kids and finances in the black). People my grandparents' age (my grandparents may be included) are horrified at the idea of me teaching in "the ghetto" with "those hoodlums" and "no gun."
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So how do I respond? "Oh, I'm a teacher." I play into their stereotypes, their misconceptions about our profession. What I should say, what I want to say, is that "I'm a educator to one hundred and fifty-five children of poverty, some of whom are genuinely excited to eat their whole-grain pop-tart at school on Monday morning because it's one of the first things they've eaten in two days. I'm an educator to students who can't read very well, but they would stick up for me no matter what because they know I care. I'm an educator to kids that so many people have given up on, but I know need just one person to believe in them -- and that's me. I'm pursuing my Master's Degree so that I can understand the ways to instruct disadvantaged children better. I'm receiving my Master's Degree while I teach full-time because I can't afford to otherwise because of my low-salary profession. I'm earning my Master's Degree so that I can try to give my State a better chance at success." What I want to say and what I actually say are very different, and what I do and what people think I do are incongruent.
Why, then, do I continue to sell myself and my profession short? I've actually thought about this a lot recently. I think what it boils down to is that I worry too much about what others think about me. I worry that they think my job isn't worthy, isn't a smart choice, isn't lucrative enough, isn't shiny enough. But to me, seeing a student "thumbs up" at me as he hands in a test is everything. To me, (Larry) yelling down the hall "Meh Ree, you gonna marry me one day!!!" is everything. To me, putting a hand on a child's shoulder in the hall while they cry is everything. To me, joining the prom committee and making prom a memorable night for my seniors is everything (see left).
I teach for a reason, no matter if others can see it or not. I'm some kind of weird leader to these kids, no matter if I can see it or not. And I'll keep teaching until I'm out of juice. Those kids, man: they've got me again. |