The Teacher in Me

I wasn't born to be a teacher.  I mean, I didn't grow up with the desire to be a fireman or a policeman or a doctor or nurse the way we sometimes hear people say.  I didn't have any passions, in that regard.  I had talents, of course, but everything I could think that I'd like to do just didn't seem reasonable to me.  The only guidance I got from my mother was that nursing and teaching were "respectable" vocations for women to fall back on, "in case something happens to your husband".  Such was the generation in which I was raised.  Both of my parents were teachers, as was my grandmother, so it just happened for me to go in that direction (as with so many other things in my life).  No plan.  No thought to whether or not I would even be good at it.  In retrospect, I can see that there were several other fields of endeavor that I could have excelled in (and made more money), but the die was cast, and teaching became my career.

Truth be known, I don't think I was a very good teacher in terms of getting students to do their best work.  But I cared about them, and they knew it.  They liked me, mostly.  I've even had a few that have come back to me now to say that I had single-handedly gotten them through some tough times in their lives--something I wasn't aware of back then.  I did have a skill that someone needs to explain to me, though: even though I had been a Goody-Two-Shoes student during my own school years (never breaking rules or skipping assignments or talking out of turn), as a teacher I seemed to be able to get along with the troubled kids.  There were times when the Guidance Department actually assigned them to me, if they could, just to help them get through the year with the least wear-and-tear on everyone.  Go figure!

Forty years of teaching experience changed me.  To this day, I cannot enter a room full of kids--big or little--without feeling that I should somehow take charge, or at least listen carefully to what is going on.  I find myself correcting my grandchildren when their parents are right there.  (Not my job!)  I find myself giving unsolicited advice to my daughter, and former students.  (Not always welcome!)  Sometimes, I become aware that my efforts to be "helpful" to others can be seen as disrespectful to their maturity or ability to handle things themselves, or even their circumstances.  (Not my intention!)  So, in my retired old age, even the teacher is still learning.

All of this comes to mind due to a conversation I was having with a couple of same-age parents at church yesterday during the Homeless Mission's weekly cooking session.  During a break, we were rehashing the respective school experiences of our children, which caused me to remember that I was both a parent and a teacher when my daughter was a student.  (Poor kid!) 

In the next couple of posts, I'll talk about some of my "moments" in teaching.  They are, of course, the ones I remember most.  If you aren't interested, skip the entries that have "The Teacher in Me" as the subject line.  :)