Usually when you tell someone you are a teacher or, as in my case, that you used to teach, people have one of two reactions. Some will be enthusiastic and ask about your experiences. They will show interest because they value teachers and because they see their own time spent in school as integral to their success and development. Others will gloss over the information and switch to another topic. Sadly, for this second group school continues to conjure up more trauma than magic. Its members hold little regard for teachers and formal education.
To those who look from the outside, teaching is indeed a puzzling career choice. Why on earth would you do it? The pay is adequate in wealthy countries but it is close to volunteer work in developing nations. The hours are reasonable with considerable vacation time but there is the “small matter” of having to handle surly children every day, all day long. To boot, society at large looks upon you as a freeloader who “teaches because he can no longer do.” Does masochism run in your family?
Indeed I can testify that teaching turned out to be more difficult than I expected. To be honest, when I contemplated it as a career choice I saw only what I could gain from such work. The hours and the holiday time were factors but I was especially impressed with the opportunity to have a captive audience at my disposal for lengthy periods of time. Egotistical, much? Afraid so.
I had spent time (and a lot of my parents’ money) to distill the truth from volumes of tripe found in dusty university libraries, and I had endured monotonous classes and seminars —all to receive the mantle of authority and legitimacy to now wax poetic about life. I could wow my students with wit, knowledge and charm. How fortunate for them that I had arrived to set their lives straight!
But how to describe my disappointment to find that my students had little interest in my passion, philosophy or knowledge? Some were mildly amused; most appeared indifferent to my perspectives and positions. Add an expletive deleted here.
Truth be told, a veritable chill goes down your spine when you see teaching for what it really is. Forget the idealism and the vocation fairy tale. The job is really part babysitting and part sales. At best, the audience is reluctant and easily distracted. Most young people know they could stand to learn some more but they are pretty sure that you will not be the one to teach them. Like the young soldier who joins the military to see the world only to realize that the battlefield is real and that some soldiers do not survive, I felt trapped and afraid. Did anybody, could anybody honestly enjoy this thankless job? Had I been scammed?
Fortunately, as I began to work at it , some valid reasons for teaching gradually emerged. Once in a while, my students’ eyes would light up with understanding. They would rejoice at a new discovery or at a concept that would confirm a personal experience. In other moments the texts we studied unlocked universal truths that they could relate to. In time I began to see that I was not just responsible for crowd control. I was actually helping people become a better version of themselves.
I also gained personally from teaching in the classroom. The adulation I first craved gave way to a sincere appreciation for the opportunity to study and think on things at length. As a young man I was inexplicably curious and here was a job that allowed me to follow my curiosity to wherever it led. What a wonderful opportunity to satisfy my craving for knowledge!
By teaching concepts to others I grew in understanding and I became more confident in my learning. Listening to the students’ ideas and perspectives caused me to grow as a person and separate the proverbial wheat from the chaff. As an added bonus, some of my students become life-long friends.
Bottom line, would I do it again? Not sure. The daily grind of mustering up enthusiasm so as to motivate apathetic kids was really tough. Several times during my career, I panicked at the possibility that I was burning out or worse yet, that I had missed my true calling. My delusion of grandeur, naiveté and excessive idealism all vanished under the cold light of the classroom.
I remember driving into the school parking lot one morning, wondering how on earth I could present a novel I had taught over 30 times before to a new group of students. I survived that day but only to face a similar challenge the next day and the next day after that.
Is there a special place in heaven for dedicated teachers? Perhaps there should be.