How I Make A Difference
by J.
I was at dinner once with a bunch of people, most of whom I did not know. We were all in college at the time, and so we were talking about school and majors and so forth. The girl across the table asked me what my major was. I replied that it was English Education. I told her I was planning to become an English teacher. Without a trace of sarcasm, she said, “Oh, that’s noble.”
I wanted to punch her in the face.
I did not get into this profession for nobility; I do not have a bleeding heart; I don’t believe that I will completely change the world. I got into it because I love the subject of English; I stayed in it because I love interacting with students every day, because I love the variety, because I get to talk all day about writing and books.
I harbor no grandiose visions of myself as a role model who will one day revolutionize the country. My goal is much smaller in scale: I want to positively affect one person a year for each year that I teach. If I stay in the profession until the golden age (in California sixty-one and a half), then I will have taught for thirty-seven years. That’s a minimum of thirty seven people I hope to positively impact. That’s not too shabby.
Teachers have an immense amount of responsibility, and they’re working with a mostly reluctant clientele and a general lack of support from the public. A big deal has been made of teacher accountability in the past decade. I agree that teachers must be accountable. But so must parents and so must students. I can only do so much with my students for the hour a day that I have them for the one hundred and eighty days of school each year. The canker is not in the heart of most teachers; it’s in the attitude we have as a society: we are entirely focused upon product and not process (more on this in another blog). The most accelerated brain development happens from zero to five, before teachers can even get a crack at those brains. So step up, parents.
It’s a frustrating profession for the reasons above and also because there are times when I feel like I am shouting into the wind. I wonder whether my voice is floating away unheard into oblivion. Teachers do not get to see the products of their endeavors–unless students come back years later. But I know, from personal experience, that teachers do make an impact. I am in this profession thanks to the teachers that I had, both good and bad. Yes, we’ve all had bad teachers, horrible teachers who have made us feel small and stupid and insignificant. And I learned so much about the teacher I want to be by watching these teachers along with the great ones.
I do make a difference. This I know. And when I go to bed at night, I can sleep easy knowing that I have done my small part to make the world a little better, one student at a time.
I only have thirty-one more years to go. I better step it up.
So what response would have been more fitting? “Heroic?” “Futile?” “Tragic” (in the great sense of taking on the gods)? Hey, social situations are often awkward.
The fact is that American society too often gives too little value to what truly should be valued, and too much value to what does little to advance society.
Having a people who can speak and think clearly is essential for the long-term well-being of communities in their economy and politics, yet we see little to encourage or respect that. Indeed, look closely and you’ll see the exact opposite.
As someone who is winding down a four-decade career in newspaper journalism, I share your passion for language and literature and welcome your commitment to continuing the tradition. Both journalists and schoolteachers, of course, earn at the bottom of the college-graduate pay scales. (As I was saying …)
Don’t overlook, either, the difference you make as an adult male presence in a school. I wish you could have been at the charter school graduation I attended last night where all of the graduating seniors had an opportunity to speak — the specific contributions of the faculty were beautifully articulated.
Make a difference, indeed, daily.
Thanks for your comment.
Heroic? Definitely not. Futile? Sometimes it feels that way. Tragic? Some days. My problem with the “noble” comment was that I was sitting at a table with mostly business majors–which I didn’t want to fully delve into in the post–who were committed to making money, which is not inherently bad. What I hated was the condescension in her voice; she may as well have said, “The world needs ditch-diggers too.”
I fully agree with your sentiment regarding clear communication. Didion wrote in “Slouching Towards Bethlehem” that she was committed to the idea that the ability to think relates to one’s control over language. She wrote that the generation coming up in 1967 was “an army of children waiting to be given the words.” That army is not only still here; it’s growing, and it’s up to us to equip them with the weapons we have at our disposal.
Journalist, teacher, or other wordsmith: we all help to keep the kids writing, talking, and interacting with the world of words.
Thank you for this post, and for your attitude, and commitment to your goal. And screw the business major. Um, yeah.