Why Teach?

Today I asked my junior class to do something they haven't done in a long time...write without a prompt. They stared at me, not quite understanding what they were being asked to do. I had few requests: write a full page in ten minutes. Write on any subject. Change subjects if necessary. I grade only for completion. Why ask them to do this?

They don't know how to think creatively or create something all their own. Instead, our system has routinely given them prompts and strict expectations for their writing. It's no wonder I've been frustrated this year, but I think I've now found something we might enjoy.

Challenging my students is a joy. Watching as their faces light up when they discover something makes all the frustrations disappear, at least for a short time. Working with them, showing them different ways of anwering questions or encouraging them to think for themselves is, partly, why I went into teaching.

I've read a number of "I quit" articles recently about teachers who are frustrated with the profession, the national and state requirements, laws that force an incomplete evaluation system on teachers, and accountability through standardized testing and merit pay, all of which are reasons for them to leave. It's that time of year; we're tired, the students are tired. We've come through nearly all of our testing season reasonably intact. We are headed toward the end of the school year.

It's easy to focus on the negatives: rude, entitled students, obnoxious parents, incompetent administrators, inconsiderate colleagues, and the mounds of work left to do. However, what about the positives? My positives for the year include: students who have improved their writing, thinking, and speaking; students who have made me laugh; students who look forward to walking through my classroom door; colleagues who challenge me and provide necessary feedback; a couple supportive administrators; and students who come back to tell me thanks.

When I began teaching, I wanted to save all students, inspire them, motivate them, show them their paths. I was young--24--and I knew I could make a difference in the lives of teenagers. Amazingly, despite all the negatives that have happened over the years, I retain some of those same feelings. My job is to inspire, motivate, correct, and help teens find their life paths. While I know I cannot save all my students from their errors, I try to help as many as I can.

I admire those teachers who leave the profession because they've had it. It's understandable. I, too, am tired of reading negative remarks about how lazy teachers are or how we "have it easy." I am tired of feeling marginalized because I've chosen to teach. Our country's lack of value of education is deeply concerning. But I aso look forward to each day I spend with many of my students. They inspire and motivate me. They help me find a better path to reach more students.

And that is why I continue to teach.

Beautiful soul

My son has a beautiful, kind heart and soul. Of course, he tries to mask it with boy toughness, poor personal hygiene, and the occasional bad attitude. But, deep inside, he has a beautiful soul.

Natually, as his mother I should believe in his kindness, his sweetness, his inner beauty. It's when I see him play with the little kids down the street, work with the little kids at karate, or look around at all the lovingly made art in my room and house, that affirms the beauty of my child. I think, "I've created him!" but really, I haven't, not completely. He has an innate kindness that allowed him, when my mother was in the hospital after surgery and not looking like herself, to crawl on her bed and cuddle her. Next to my bed is the Lego birthday cake he made me years ago. Above my head hangs the wood carving he made me for Christmas this past year.

Our world doesn't accept sweetly sensitive boys, which is a shame. We ridicule them, call them terrible names, and tell them to "man up." What will happen to my son as he grows older? Will he hide his true self behind a mask of toughness? So what if he isn't "athletic" or knows football stats? Why must we identify boys by the sports they play rather than the person they are?

Our boys are so much more than we allow them to be. We tell them not to cry when they're sad, to act like pigs with girls, and define their self-worth by the number of points they can score in a game. We expect them to go into "manly" fields like construction or engineering, and we laugh at them when they want to be teachers or nurses, traditionally "women's work." We expect our boys to be tough, rough and tumble, rather than gentle, and we mock signs of gentleness by ridiculing their sexuality. We make them fear being "gay" and force them to deny their sexuality. Should they accept their sexuality, and it doesn't fit with our idea of "normal," we mock them and shame them for what is biological. We instill a fear of homosexual men into our boys as perverts and child molesters, and our boys grow into men who need to prove their masculinity.

My kind, beautiful son is headed into the hormone-driven confusing era of middle school, where some of his best traits will be mocked. I hope we have given him the internal strength to withstand what is headed his way, but I worry. Teenaged boys kill themselves at greater rates than teenaged girls, and this concerns me as well. Teenaged boys are more likely to commit violent crimes as well, especially in an effort to prove their self-worth.

In the end, I hope he emerges a taller, stronger version of the person he is now.