Something I Wrote Last Year
28 October 2008
On Life and Death and The In Between
I'll admit: I love my students. I know it's a sort of taboo with all of the attention being given to inappropriate relationships between teachers and students in these past years, but I can't help it; it's who I am. As a teacher, I am responsible for the direction of young minds, many of which are busy trying to figure out, in these formative years, who they are and who they are not. It's a tricky thing, being a teacher. My contract says I'm supposed to teach content: literature, grammar--the basic elements of English. But as any teacher can tell you, there's much more to my job than just teaching English. I'm part psychologist, part parent, part counselor, part friendly face--there are a lot of masks I'm required to wear throughout the course of even one day, and sometimes, I can even blur those lines. I can get lost in what I'm supposed to be doing in the classroom. And even what I'm supposed to be doing outside of it. So today, I'm not concerned so much with Poe's rhetorical argument of the function of s a short story; I'm not as concerned with what you're learning. Instead, I'm concerned with how you're all feeling, what you are all going through, and how I can help fix the tears we all feel in our hearts today as a result of Tiffany's passing. I'm more concerned with the discussion that will transpire at your lunch tables today, and how you will feel on the ride home. I'm concerned; I'm worried. It's what kind of teacher I am.
I remember junior high and high school. I remember my relationships with my teachers. Some were good, some were bad. But the teachers I miss are the ones that genuinely cared about me; the ones that truly believed in me and gave me a reason (or many) to come to class. There was Mr. Hovey, who told me that he loved me like s aon. There was Mrs. Cathers, who helped pay for me to go on the 8th Grade East Coast Field Trip. There was Mr. Hauck, who made me love English. I even made sure I had his classes three times in high school: 10th grade, Creative Writing, and Honors Senior English. There was Mrs. Bradley, who helpd cultivate my musical abilities. There was Mr. Burton, who said I was a leader. I remember all of their faces, all of their words. I can even still hear their voices speaking to me, with their stern, believing eyes penetrating into my spirit. I remember them. And I always will. Sure, they taught me a lot when it came to English, History, or Music, but they taught me so much more. They taught me conviction and purpose, and gave me lessons I carry into my own classrooms as a teacher. It's funny how life becomes circular; how we come back to something we love. For me, I never planned on teaching, but the opportunity I have to share lessons with all of you is something I look forward to every day. My life would be incomplete without you. And today, as we are forced to look at an ugly part of life, I want you to know that I'm right there with you. I'm here. And for what it's worth, we'l be able to see some sunlight, even through darkness. And maybe that will require of us to just sit and think together, or sit with our thoughts. Either way...
On Life and Death and The In Between
I'll admit: I love my students. I know it's a sort of taboo with all of the attention being given to inappropriate relationships between teachers and students in these past years, but I can't help it; it's who I am. As a teacher, I am responsible for the direction of young minds, many of which are busy trying to figure out, in these formative years, who they are and who they are not. It's a tricky thing, being a teacher. My contract says I'm supposed to teach content: literature, grammar--the basic elements of English. But as any teacher can tell you, there's much more to my job than just teaching English. I'm part psychologist, part parent, part counselor, part friendly face--there are a lot of masks I'm required to wear throughout the course of even one day, and sometimes, I can even blur those lines. I can get lost in what I'm supposed to be doing in the classroom. And even what I'm supposed to be doing outside of it. So today, I'm not concerned so much with Poe's rhetorical argument of the function of s a short story; I'm not as concerned with what you're learning. Instead, I'm concerned with how you're all feeling, what you are all going through, and how I can help fix the tears we all feel in our hearts today as a result of Tiffany's passing. I'm more concerned with the discussion that will transpire at your lunch tables today, and how you will feel on the ride home. I'm concerned; I'm worried. It's what kind of teacher I am.
I remember junior high and high school. I remember my relationships with my teachers. Some were good, some were bad. But the teachers I miss are the ones that genuinely cared about me; the ones that truly believed in me and gave me a reason (or many) to come to class. There was Mr. Hovey, who told me that he loved me like s aon. There was Mrs. Cathers, who helped pay for me to go on the 8th Grade East Coast Field Trip. There was Mr. Hauck, who made me love English. I even made sure I had his classes three times in high school: 10th grade, Creative Writing, and Honors Senior English. There was Mrs. Bradley, who helpd cultivate my musical abilities. There was Mr. Burton, who said I was a leader. I remember all of their faces, all of their words. I can even still hear their voices speaking to me, with their stern, believing eyes penetrating into my spirit. I remember them. And I always will. Sure, they taught me a lot when it came to English, History, or Music, but they taught me so much more. They taught me conviction and purpose, and gave me lessons I carry into my own classrooms as a teacher. It's funny how life becomes circular; how we come back to something we love. For me, I never planned on teaching, but the opportunity I have to share lessons with all of you is something I look forward to every day. My life would be incomplete without you. And today, as we are forced to look at an ugly part of life, I want you to know that I'm right there with you. I'm here. And for what it's worth, we'l be able to see some sunlight, even through darkness. And maybe that will require of us to just sit and think together, or sit with our thoughts. Either way...