Back to School...

     January is always one of the strangest times of year in the field of education. Like I've said before, it's a chance to turn the page and revamp your style or relationships with students. On the other hand, you know that you still have 18+ weeks and that your clientele is just going to get more feisty as we get closer to the end of May. But this is a great time for me to reflect on why I chose the profession.

     Yesterday, we had a work day where there were no students in the building and we just have the opportunity to organize, clean, and adjust for the coming semester. It's one of my favorite days as an educator because I get the opportunity to fellowship with some of my colleagues and do some reflection on what I'd like to do moving forward. It's also an easy day for me because I normally get my grades finalized from first semester before we break for the holiday, so I get to take a break and just work on the little things I normally forget in the hustle of day-to-day education work. Of course, I wanted to take advantage of some of this free time, so I was less than efficient...and as I'm walking out of my classroom at the end of the afternoon, I realized how much I had forgotten to do...oof. The work is never done, and fleeting motivation is no help--I did this to myself.

     Education has been one of the most beautiful challenges I have taken in my life. It's exhilarating to work with a variety of students at different points in their lives. I've had the privilege to work with students who have or are destined to do great things with their lives, and it's been one of the finest honors of my professional life.

     I have also had the opportunity to work with students who have been hurt, broken, and sometimes left behind. It's an incredible opportunity to really make an impact on some of these young people. Some of their issues/problems/pains are the result of their own actions, so they may not be completely blameless; but you come to find that so many of them have not had the same opportunities as others. Their basic needs aren't being met. I have bought groceries for homeless students, I've worked with colleagues to gather 'professional' clothes for job interviews, and I've worked with others to provide warm clothes during the winter months. I don't say this because I need a pat on the back, but because it is important to understand that most of these kids are not 'bad'; instead, they're working to shoulder an impossible load.

     For better or for worse, I have earned a reputation for being "easy", "laid-back", and have even been accused of not having my students do work. I imagine that from the outside looking in, it looks just like this. I even had a close friend come and observe my classroom during my first year and she was floored with how my students acted, because they would have been identified as "bad". Maybe they were, but when they had needs that needed met, they knew where they could come for food or a sympathetic ear, which is what they needed most in the moment. Many of my students and many of my friends ask or tell me that I am being taken advantage of, and maybe I am by some, but if I am able to positively support one student out of my 150, then I'll take it. I was provided that support as a young student, and I know that I took advantage of those teachers, but I'm better because of them.

     What drives me on the days I don't want to wake up is one of my teachers from high school. She was really the one who encouraged me to pursue this career, whether she meant to or not. What amazes me to this day, almost ten years after I graduated from high school, was a piece of paper she gave me after my first year of teaching.

     Our high school, like many others, offered college level courses at our high school so that we could earn college credit while taking classes at the high school. If you wanted to get into the program for free, all you had to do was pass a three part test that covered social studies, English, and math. I knew from the start that math was going to be a problem, but I went and took the test (twice) and was not surprised to learn that I had not passed the math portion. I was disappointed because there was no way that my family or I could afford the cost of the English class I wanted to take. At this time, my family was in shambles, my dad had lost his job, and many days he and I had to split less than $5.00 dollars so that we could both buy lunch.

     One day, about a month into the school year, this teacher pulled me aside and told me that the work I was doing deserved the college credit and that they were able to find the money. I assumed that our low-budget school district was able to find more grant money and that I was going to be covered. I was excited and grateful, but like any 17 year old, I quickly forgot this as it was school-related and thus not critical to my day-to-day thinking. Fast forward six years.

     This teacher invites my fiance and myself over to her house; she's getting ready to move and she has classroom items and things of the like that she wants me to take to work after my first year of working in a school. We sat and talked about my students, my classes, and other related items. I had told her before of my homeless students; the ones that I fought for and who turned on me or refused to see their potential. I was disappointed but not burned out...yet. In the middle of this conversation, she hands me a piece of paper.

     It was simple, one sheet, and turned out to be a receipt. A receipt for a college level class from a local university. At first I was confused; I knew that she had been taking college courses working on an advanced degree, so why exactly was she handing me this. Upon closer examination, I look at the date; it was the fall of my senior year. This teacher, who I had routinely abused in class and copped an attitude with on almost a daily basis had used her own money to pay for my education. Over $500 this teacher spent, on a student who I feel was less than deserving, in order to encourage and advance my education. Why? Because she believed in me, even when I didn't believe in myself.

     Now I'm not afraid to cry, but it's certainly not something I do out in the open around others. I am not ashamed, however, to admit that I cried that day in front of this former teacher and my future wife. I was overwhelmed. I'm overwhelmed now just thinking about it.

     Why do I teach? Because there is a kid out there who needs a champion. There's a kid who needs someone to care about them even when they are being the biggest jerk in the room; because I was that kid, and I needed that person more than anything. I was blessed enough to have it; several students are not. That's not to say that each and every teacher doesn't try to be that person, but we can't be that person for every student, and some students and teachers miss each other in flight and it's on of the most heartbreaking parts of the profession.

     Today we got back together with our students. I got frustrated with behaviors, I laughed a lot, and I got to spend time with my Academic Quiz Team. It was equal parts awesome and aggravating. I love what I do--this is my retirement job. I couldn't be happier.

Best,