I look around to a classroom filled with unique individuals looking up to me for advice on life and literature. They ask me what the weather will be one day, and I try to always know! They ask me what I've done the weekend before on a Monday, and usually I have some story to tell--and they want to listen. They ask me advice for college and the future, and I try to guide them wisely.
Then they do other things.
They tell me my shoes don't match my shirt, and I look like dorothy, and I'm okay with that. They say I look like Pam from the office--okay, I can see that. They tell me I'm crazy if I think I can beat them in Super Mario or Ping Pong (both topics in which I claim to be talented). They tell me when I look really tired or if my hair is messy. They also tell me if I'm acting ADD or if I'm crazy. I accept all of these assumptions.
Teaching is hard. Teachers are in a fish bowl being surrounded and criticized by everyone around. Teachers are blamed for everything, and they are thanked for far less. People do not always see what teachers do behind the scenes; therefore, they do not appreciate it. Some teachers are "bad" while others are "good," but there is a strange line separating the two, all based on personal opinion. In other words, teachers will never please everyone.
Somehow, it all works, though, and I like it. Teaching is a crazy fast-paced learning experience, and I'm always adding to my knowledge. I know that some of my students are smarter than me, or maybe understand something more, but I love working with them to find out more. There are days where I feel like I've been hit and I just don't want to be on stage anymore, but that's usually right before something silly happens and the whole class bursts into laughter--which just brightens my day, my mood, and my heart.
There's something to be said for this low-paying job, and it's a huge something.
I have students that have lost family members early on in life, and they have lived without a father, a mother, or a sibling for years. I have others whose parents have been in jail. Some go home to no electricity because the bills are too high. Others are struggling to pay off their textbook debts of fifty-five dollars, and all I want to do is sit down and write the check.
But what I want to do and what I can do are sometimes two different things.
I can't write checks, and I can't delve into personal lives. I can't call parents and tell them how to treat their child, and I can't go bowling with a kid who may otherwise be lonely because it would look bad. I can't really e-mail them or talk to them too in-depth because then it turns into a friendship not a teacher-student relationship. I can't make up for the sadness of losing a loved one.
What I can do is smile at them in the morning and show them I'm happy to see them. I can play Michael Jackson Pandora while their doing work, just so they can hear the ABC song and sing it out. I can laugh at their jokes and watch their youtube videos they made. I can be a support, a confidant, and an advisor. I can go to their sports games and their choir concerts. I can act like a kid in class--because, well, that's what makes me feel good, and that's when I laugh. I can be their crazy English teacher. I can try my best to make English fun.
I write all of these things, and I know that I haven't always done them. Some days I fail to show them I care, and I fail to be excited about the next piece of literature in the textbook. I annoy them by not grading their papers soon enough, or by forgetting something previously said. I struggle to have the outgoing, joyful personality some days, even if I feel it on the inside.
Even with the trials of teaching, I have been so lucky with the students I have had this semester. They have been a joy to have everyday. Most of them are seniors, and I can't wait to see what they choose to do with their lives. I absolutely love seeing them decide on a dream, or a college, or even a part-time job. They have been so helpful to me in learning how to be a better teacher, and they have given me a reason to be that better person. The appreciation I have for them is sometimes silent; when I don't feel well or when I'm having a bad day, I notice how hard they try to get me to laugh. When I forget my lunch, they offer their mozzerella sticks, buy-one-get-one-free apple pies, peanut-butter crackers, and frozen smoothies (even if I don't accept them). The joy in them brings out the joy in me; they're probably the happiest group of students I have ever worked with--it's hard to catch them in a bad mood.
We're all celebrating our lives in different ways soon. Most of them will be graduating and moving to their college of choice, and I will be celebrating my marriage, changing my name, and moving to a location I've been waiting for for a while. It's an exciting time. I will never forget my first half-year teaching--it's been a happy time.
Sure, teaching has it's downfalls--including the salary. But you know what? I get to laugh and smile more each day than most people--and to me, that's one hell of a high-paying job.
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