No, I've been rather quiet because my thoughts have turned both radically introspective and fiercely abstract. I have thought and rethought and dug my way through the wild maze of values that somehow snuck into my head as I bounced all over campus. I wanted to teach because, quite simply, teaching suits my personality: I like to be the most important person in a room, I can't sit still for very long, and nothing makes me happier than talking about Keats, Kerouac, and Coleridge (also, I'll always have an excuse to have a fun summer job as a waitress). These are all very selfish concepts, but they are all things that, in a way, can make an effective teacher.
I'm not saying all of this to brag. Rather, my entire perspective of what it means to be a teacher has been challenged, and my reasons for wanting to teach (enthusiasm for people, communication, and literature) have been met with disapproving stares and skeptical laughter. No, teachers, I am told, are altruistic; they believe they can change the world by inspiring poor kids to go to college. We can save them.
I've never done anything for charity; I have never walked into a life-long commitment thinking, man, I'm going to be miserable, but at least I'll help a poor kid go to college.
I was a poor kid. I went to college. So did a fair amount of my high school class. One just got a job at Hopkins, doing stem cell research. A few are in grad school for engineering, or are already working in the field. My friends from high school amaze me every day in their achievements. But not just the ones in college. No, I have one friend who, painfully self-conscious in high school, has established a successful modeling career that has led her all over the world in just a few years. Several girls from my hockey team have fallen in love, married men who treat them well, and have already started families; to me, this is unthinkable--I cannot consider myself responsible enough, at my age, to be the head of a household that contains more than me and a small green plant (even poor Lars is wilty).
I can guarantee that, successful as we are, we never had one teacher (not one that made an impact, anyway), who thought they were doing us a favor by saving us. I'm not sure they thought any of us needed to be saved. No, the teachers I remember best were ones who stepped up when they had to (i.e., became our coach so we didn't have to lose our team) but knew when to back off. More importantly, the teachers that made me want to teach just loved what they were talking about. My History teacher rattled off narratives about the Civil War like most women would talk about the day they met their husband. My English teacher thought that pathetic fallacy was the most beautiful concept ever created by a human mind. We cared because they cared, not about us, but what they were teaching us. If I ever learned that a teacher was teaching because they wanted to save me from a future of giving manicures at Crystal Nails, I'd lose respect for them, and feel a little bit worse about myself: "You gave up your future, because mine looked so bad that it had to be changed, and you didn't think I would do it myself?"
I realized how important it is to get an education; I realize that without one, life is blocked up with so many obstacles. Maybe there are a lot of teachers out there, teaching altruistically, that will make a difference and change someone's life. I wouldn't tell them not to--I wouldn't want to shoot down anyone else's motivation. I just can't do it. I can't believe that I can make the world better, just by showing somone how to read Moby Dick without hating whales for the rest of his life. But I don't have to believe that to keep my head up and be a good teacher; I kind of think I'll just be happy talking about books.
worth the $.99 on itunes: "speed of sound" by chris bell. like everything else from the 70's, it's heartbreaking, yet still kind of makes you want to make out with someone.
