Meandering With Bob

So for the final entry during teacher appreciation week, I have decided to share why it is that I ended up in education. Originally I was going to say why I am a teacher. However, considering that I have been out of the classroom for the last four years, I did not feel that that would be honest. So instead, I will share about going into the educational career field.

There are many great articles, blogs, and videos about why people teach. The one that makes the rounds most often seems to be the story about a person responding to a high earning person’s request about what does a teacher make. The story differs on the setting and person asking the question. However, no matter the story, the response from the teacher is true to the original. It talks about teachers making a difference. The teacher describes how hard the job can be but that the final pay-off is not in monetary gain, but in other means.

I often credit my wife for getting me into my latest career. I must admit that while she did get me back on course, this path was chosen for me many years ago. My father ran a youth group for the kids in our town, and then, eventually, it grew to the entire area. He was not a teacher, and yet he taught so many kids in the area so much. We learned dedication to a task, perseverance, not quitting, and fair competition. Above all of the teaching, he provided a place for young people to grow and learn in a place that was safe. He did exactly what so many teachers do each and every day. There were many who found the youth group to be their escape from bad situations. Just like so many classrooms. I learned from my dad that if you want to make the world a better place, do it by teaching the next generation to be better than the current group of adults.

Once I left high school, I struggled to figure out what I was supposed to do with my life. Many suggested medicine, some suggested law and politics. I tried. I failed. I failed because neither was what I was driven to do. When I finally voiced a want to become a teacher, family and friends questioned my sanity. During the ‘80s, teachers still were struggling for both respect and pay (many will say they still are). I was talked out of going into this field. Yet, I started teaching.

I have been professionally called a teacher for just under a decade, but I have been teaching for over 30 years. Even though I allowed myself to be talked out of the career field, I could not shake what my dad instilled in me. Teach the next generation – make them better. I have worked with theater groups, rec centers, and Scouts. I have taught and learned throughout all of these. Probably, out of all of them, scouting gave me the first real shot at teaching. I taught first aid, swimming, leadership, and so many others. I learned early on that it is not so much what you teach, but making the kids feel as if they are in a place where they can learn and have people care about them. Scouting isn’t just about learning skills for camping and hiking. It is about gaining experiences to learn about different areas so that you start on a path for adulthood.

What is interesting that in all of the above, I not only taught young people, but I taught adults as well. I learned that age doesn’t matter. If you have something to share with people – do it. Teach. I also learned that if you wanted to grow as a teacher you better be willing to learn. I learned by taking more classes, reading, and by listening to those I teach. I unwittingly was preparing myself for what was to come.

Shortly after becoming engaged to an amazing teacher. We took a trip overseas to help with a scout camp in England. She got to see who I was by watching me work with young people for three weeks. Upon our return to the states, she talked me into using a GI Bill that would soon expire and go back to school. We originally talked about my becoming a counselor, but we had been given bad information that  the district would only allow you to be a counselor once you had three years in the classroom. So off to an English degree and credential I went.

Being a teacher is an amazing job. So many have done a better job of describing the real drive behind being a teacher than I can ever do. Almost every job you can think of, in some way, shape, or form, does something for other people. No job is done just for the person doing it. But teaching……teaching offers the receiver something and the giver even more. I worked at both the high school and middle school level. Each offered something different.

At the high school level, I felt that I was preparing some students for college and other students to enter the work world. I loved being able to sit and have discussions about books with these young men and women. Once they realized that they would not be criticized for their opinions, the discussions took off. You started seeing the next generation forming their own opinion. They stopped mimicking the opinions of the adults in their lives and started stating their own. They dove into topics and decided what they thought. I was amazing to watch them leave their comfort zone.

At middle school, we talked books but at a different level. We also worked on writing. While writing happened at the high school level, at the middle school level it was still a learning process. For me, this is where it really took off. Students didn’t just want to hear how to do something, they asked why. They wanted to know the reason behind the rules that we have for our language.  As for the books, learning to work on personal connections brought literature to a whole new level. Reading books that didn’t always have a happy ending, shocked them into understanding that life isn’t always fair – read The Pearl. Instruction, while focusing on standards, really taught them to look at who they are/were and to make decisions on where they are/were going.

No matter the level, it was the non-English teaching that made the job one worth going to each and every day. I will admit. I was not the happy go-lucky, make the room fun all the time teacher. I had rules, I expected students to live up to expectations, and I wanted them to try. I often joked that I was the meanest teacher at the school. My students told me I lied. Even though I tried to be tough, I couldn’t do it. These young people, 160 a day, came into my room with problems. So many of them looked to find an adult who would listen to them, care about them.

My room was full during every lunch. Having been a kid that didn’t do sports or play physical games during lunch, I knew that there were kids looking for a place to go during lunch to read, play chess, hang out with no fear of bullying. They wanted a place to call home. I gave them that. I cannot count the number of times I spent that period listening to kids talk about their troubles. Many times I offered no advice, just an ear. I listened to one student tell me about a sibling who would soon pass, another talked to me to get through the grief of losing a parent, another needed someone to talk to to get reassurance that the divorce had nothing to do with him or his siblings. Teachers are the adults that kids learn will listen. The students learned that once they set foot in that door, they became my kids and we were a family. On more than one occasion I heard of the students sticking together outside the room to stand up for each other.

My favorite time of year was the last few weeks of school – no I was not counting the days until summer. That time of year became Mr. Martin’s Poetry Café. The kids were allowed to write or find a poem to present. Drinks and food were allowed for the week. The trick was that the poem had to have a personal connection. I still remember my university mentor telling me to not expect much when he visited one day. The third student, one who had been quiet in class, got up and read a poem to his brother who had passed from SIDs the August before. That opened the door for all of them. Both at the high school and middle school level, we had poems that made us laugh, made us think, and made us cry. The tears flowed as both boys and girls found ways to express pain that had been locked up deep inside. One student finally stood in front of his peers and told them how the bullying over his choices had hurt him. The anger came out and forgiveness began. They learned that words are more powerful than any weapon. Words can tear down, destroy, repair, build up – words are stronger than anything else.

Four years ago, I left the classroom. A job opened up to bring technology to the classroom district wide. There is not a day goes by that I do not question my choice. I often long to be back working with the students. I wonder if they have someone who will lend them an ear. I know, because I know the teachers of our district so well, that they are many ears out there just waiting to have a story told. I know that my position was filled by a teacher that cares just as much if not more. I know that they are safe. I still question.

This year the first of the last of my students will graduate. I worry if I did enough for them. Did I set the next generation up to succeed? Only time will tell.

So we have gone through a week of teacher appreciation. Make it a point that if you can read this to thank a teacher.

Thank you for meandering with me once again.