I am involved once again in the most fickle of affairs with the angry, vindictive lover, school. As of last week I was no longer an aimlessly wandering barfly, walking from bar to cafe, movie theatre to bookstore ad nauseum; no, now I am a gainfully employed barfly, wandering from cafe to school to bar..etc (the bar tabs will inevitably rise as the children begin filtering back in next week....I am slowly building stil). Last week marked the beginning of another school year, and in the midst of meeting after mind-numbing meeting, I realized two distinct things: I love teaching, and I hate being a teacher.
I was reminded of the former last week when I was privileged to get to lecture for a summer class that had been studying Jane Austen for the summer. They all mutually hated Emma, which I actually loved, and word spread that I might be able to turn their young minds in favor of it, and so the call was made early in June for a class that I was not going to teach until late July (bad idea). I got a call from Brian the day before asking a question about the lecture, and suddenly I was slammed to the floor by a pile of bricks. I had completely forgotten about that commitment. My first several thoughts were clever ways to avoid the engagement, but honesty and integrity won the day, and so I spent until the wee hours of the morning studying up on the book and criticisms, and I went to class the next day and waxed eloquent for 1 1/2 hours....and I loved it! I forget what a rush it is to teach, and it sometimes takes something like that to remind me.
Fresh off my victory with the Janeites, I went to my first day of work at Prince of Peace only to quickly discover how much I hate being a teacher. Allow me to be blunt: I do not really like kids; when they are young, they are sticky, smelly and otherwise gross, and by the time I get to them in high school, they are still smelly, but now there is a much more pungent odor of smart-a** that overrides all other senses. I love education, just not kids, and this apparently makes me a bad teacher....I could only be more of a social outcast at a Christian school if I engaged in dogfighting while hating kids.
Secondly, I do not give two damns how many times my students a) go to the bathroom, b) chew gum c)show up late d) fail to turn in assignments e) like me d) tell their parents how mean I am e) hold hands in the hallway f) curse g) write perverse poetry h) write notes, and the myriad of other pressing concerns that keep us in hours of meetings everyday. I tried; I came in the first day determined to care....but I don't, I just don't.
Teachers are a different breed of human, and I am pretty sure that I am not one of them....although I still lay claims to the "human" part. Regardless, that is what I am, in title, if nothing else. So, let us iron our Winnie the Pooh sweaters, gather our Garfield posters to display proudly on our pristine bulletin boards (to be changed monthly, mind you), brush up on our cliche's (after all, there is no I in TEAM), and get ready for those little "blessings" to come bounding through the door in a week. If nothing else, we have summer to look forward to...and not many professions can say that.
I was reminded of the former last week when I was privileged to get to lecture for a summer class that had been studying Jane Austen for the summer. They all mutually hated Emma, which I actually loved, and word spread that I might be able to turn their young minds in favor of it, and so the call was made early in June for a class that I was not going to teach until late July (bad idea). I got a call from Brian the day before asking a question about the lecture, and suddenly I was slammed to the floor by a pile of bricks. I had completely forgotten about that commitment. My first several thoughts were clever ways to avoid the engagement, but honesty and integrity won the day, and so I spent until the wee hours of the morning studying up on the book and criticisms, and I went to class the next day and waxed eloquent for 1 1/2 hours....and I loved it! I forget what a rush it is to teach, and it sometimes takes something like that to remind me.
Fresh off my victory with the Janeites, I went to my first day of work at Prince of Peace only to quickly discover how much I hate being a teacher. Allow me to be blunt: I do not really like kids; when they are young, they are sticky, smelly and otherwise gross, and by the time I get to them in high school, they are still smelly, but now there is a much more pungent odor of smart-a** that overrides all other senses. I love education, just not kids, and this apparently makes me a bad teacher....I could only be more of a social outcast at a Christian school if I engaged in dogfighting while hating kids.
Secondly, I do not give two damns how many times my students a) go to the bathroom, b) chew gum c)show up late d) fail to turn in assignments e) like me d) tell their parents how mean I am e) hold hands in the hallway f) curse g) write perverse poetry h) write notes, and the myriad of other pressing concerns that keep us in hours of meetings everyday. I tried; I came in the first day determined to care....but I don't, I just don't.
Teachers are a different breed of human, and I am pretty sure that I am not one of them....although I still lay claims to the "human" part. Regardless, that is what I am, in title, if nothing else. So, let us iron our Winnie the Pooh sweaters, gather our Garfield posters to display proudly on our pristine bulletin boards (to be changed monthly, mind you), brush up on our cliche's (after all, there is no I in TEAM), and get ready for those little "blessings" to come bounding through the door in a week. If nothing else, we have summer to look forward to...and not many professions can say that.
Ahhh the cathartic effect of honest cynicism...that was highly entertaining. If parents only knew...and now I know just what to give you for Christmas!
michael, don't feel bad. you're not the only teacher who feels the same way that you do. in fact, if i could just coach basketball, i'd do it. in a friggin' heartbeat. when i finish my master's next december, i plan on beginning to look for college coaching positions.
by the way....when do you get so cerebral? my buddy jim's little bro was never this way when i was around. i must be old or something....