As one of my three current jobs, I help my dad in his financial planning business. I know. I have zero financial training, so that's kind of humorous. Occasionally, Dad drags me to seminars where I try to follow as people talk about mutual funds and annuities, and believe it or not, I actually get what's going on most of the time.
Today, after one of the presentations, the speaker introduced himself to me and asked how I was related to Michael.
"Oh, he's my dad."
"I thought so. Well, he speaks very highly of you."
"Really? Oh that's nice. I'm just helping him out right now. I'm actually a teacher turned librarian."
"No kidding! I was an elementary ed. major! I have a kindergarten endorsement. You know it's not all that different teaching 6 year olds how to read and teaching 60 year old guys how to sell life insurance."
Wow. This guy my own age in the expensive suit surely makes three times what a kindergarten teacher would make. He's taken a very different path, and it has rewarded him handsomely. How do I feel about that? In one sense, it's a shame because male elementary teachers are worth their weight in gold even if that's not what they're paid. It's rare for young boys to see male role models in their schools, and they desperately need them. On the other hand, can I fault this guy for providing well for his family? It's not like he's selling drugs, or even used cars. He's legitimately helping people take good care of their families' well-being. I mean life insurance is boring, and I would stick a fork in my brain if I had to think about it day in and day out, but it is important to people, and more power to this guy if he really enjoys it and makes a nice living doing it. And to be fair, maybe this guy's choice had nothing to do with money. Maybe he's just really passionate about life insurance. Is that possible?
Of course teachers aren't paid enough, and if you disagree, then I challenge you to spend a single day in any American classroom and see if you don't change your mind. But here's the thing. Even if teachers were among the most highly paid professionals, people wouldn't do it for the money - at least not for long. As reality T.V. demonstrates, people will do some crazy things for money, but any person teaching for money alone would be certifiably insane.
No, there's a much stronger force that calls these heroes to action. It's Love. I'm not talking about a sappy, "Oh, aren't these little ones adorable" kind of love. I mean a fierce, truth-must-be-told, fire in the soul, "I will kick you in the face if you mess with my students" capital L Love. If you don't Love what you teach and who you're teaching and believe in what you're doing with that kind of jacked-up mama bear on steroids kind of Love, no amount of money will make any difference.
For the record, my own hiatus from teaching had nothing to do with a shortage of Love. If anything I might have cared too much. I never kicked anyone in the face, but I sure felt like it. (Whole other story.) No, if people went into teaching for something as paltry as money, they'd never make it. They'd burn out faster than a 4th of July sparkler, and start wondering what other careers might be easier.
Answer: almost all of them. But to a real teacher, what does that matter?
Saturday, August 12, 2017
Sunday, May 28, 2017
It was worth it....until it wasn't.
Lately a parade of inspirational posts about teaching have been popping up in my Facebook feed. Each one talks about how in spite of everything teachers have to deal with, it's all worth it. I know that feeling. It's the end of the school year, and on that last day of school, in the anticipatory glow of ten weeks of relative freedom, we can forget all the garbage of the past ten months for just a moment and remember how much we actually accomplished. Well, for the first time since I was a child, there's no last day of school for me. After 16 years, I've left teaching. I never thought that would happen, but here I am.
So, was teaching worth it? Not always. For me, it was for the most part. I taught in the same school for 15 of my 16 years, and most of those years were fantastic. Not perfect. There were days and even weeks that were downright miserable. But as a whole, I loved what I did, and it was absolutely worth it. Worth the hours longer than all reason. Worth coming in to teach while sick because no substitute could do the things I did. Worth spending every weekend grading 180 of the same assignment. Worth the sleepless nights sewing costumes and building scenery for the school play. It was worth it. It really was.
Until it wasn't. My final years of teaching were not worth it. I wasn't treated well. Some of my students weren't treated well. Despite my best attempts, things were unfair, and unjust, and I couldn't fix them. More often than not I was angry. I'm not an angry person. But I became really, really angry. So much so that I spent nights lying awake with my blood boiling because the injustice I saw day after day made it impossible to sleep. Changing schools didn't help because my new school had bigger problems than the one I'd left. I'm not being very specific here, and that's intentional because the important thing is this: Things had changed, and teaching was no longer worth it.
So all of a sudden, I'm not a teacher anymore. I always thought I would be a teacher until I literally dropped dead. Now that's gone, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. What do you do when you lose your calling? I'm working in a public library now and adding another master's degree to my collection. I'll be qualified to be a school librarian in a year or so. It's something I think I could really thrive at, but honestly, I'm not sure I have the courage to walk back into a school again, knowing how badly you can get burned there.
Maybe what they say is true that those who burn bright also burn fast. Maybe for someone who threw herself head first into teaching the way I did, fifteen or sixteen years is all you can sustain. I don't know if I buy that, though. Because every time I step into a school, I get both energized and homesick. I can't help it. School is my home. It's the place I was born for. I hope someday soon I can find my way to that kind of home once again.
Until then, I'll take advantage of the new and strange freedom I'm experiencing. I can go to the bathroom when I want to. I can make a dentist's appointment on a weekday. I can take a vacation in the middle of February. But when I'm ready, and I find the right situation, and some lucky school is looking for just the right kind of librarian, then I'll know it's time to go back. And I'm sure then, it will be worth it.
So, was teaching worth it? Not always. For me, it was for the most part. I taught in the same school for 15 of my 16 years, and most of those years were fantastic. Not perfect. There were days and even weeks that were downright miserable. But as a whole, I loved what I did, and it was absolutely worth it. Worth the hours longer than all reason. Worth coming in to teach while sick because no substitute could do the things I did. Worth spending every weekend grading 180 of the same assignment. Worth the sleepless nights sewing costumes and building scenery for the school play. It was worth it. It really was.
Until it wasn't. My final years of teaching were not worth it. I wasn't treated well. Some of my students weren't treated well. Despite my best attempts, things were unfair, and unjust, and I couldn't fix them. More often than not I was angry. I'm not an angry person. But I became really, really angry. So much so that I spent nights lying awake with my blood boiling because the injustice I saw day after day made it impossible to sleep. Changing schools didn't help because my new school had bigger problems than the one I'd left. I'm not being very specific here, and that's intentional because the important thing is this: Things had changed, and teaching was no longer worth it.
So all of a sudden, I'm not a teacher anymore. I always thought I would be a teacher until I literally dropped dead. Now that's gone, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. What do you do when you lose your calling? I'm working in a public library now and adding another master's degree to my collection. I'll be qualified to be a school librarian in a year or so. It's something I think I could really thrive at, but honestly, I'm not sure I have the courage to walk back into a school again, knowing how badly you can get burned there.
Maybe what they say is true that those who burn bright also burn fast. Maybe for someone who threw herself head first into teaching the way I did, fifteen or sixteen years is all you can sustain. I don't know if I buy that, though. Because every time I step into a school, I get both energized and homesick. I can't help it. School is my home. It's the place I was born for. I hope someday soon I can find my way to that kind of home once again.
Until then, I'll take advantage of the new and strange freedom I'm experiencing. I can go to the bathroom when I want to. I can make a dentist's appointment on a weekday. I can take a vacation in the middle of February. But when I'm ready, and I find the right situation, and some lucky school is looking for just the right kind of librarian, then I'll know it's time to go back. And I'm sure then, it will be worth it.
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