Listlessness vs. Purpose

One blessing about being a teacher is that I have a sense of vocational calling every day. I never feel a lack of purpose in my job. One problem that arises from this, however, is that my sense of purpose can become an overwhelming burden: There are too many students who need a quality relationship with an adult; there are too many students who are failing my class; there are too many students whom I am not challenging enough academically; there are too many colleagues that need encouragement; there are too many lesson plans that I need to improve. The problem with this mentality is that I become the center of everyone's world. The reality is that I cannot possibly meet all of the needs I encounter each day, and I need to be ok with that.

Another aspect of the immense purpose I feel through teaching is that while I am on vacations from school I begin to feel listless and purposeless. The summer is especially bad--I actually begin to feel unproductive, guilty, and a little worthless as a result of being away from school. Certainly this is not healthy, but it gives me insight into the lives of people, like the 40+ year-old professional athlete riddled with arthritis, who just cannot give up their careers even when they should have long ago.

Part of me thinks that I need to cultivate a more comprehensive sense of purpose--one that is not situationally dependent. It seems like my purpose shouldn't wax and wane with the school year, that it should be independent of any environment in which I find myself. While that sounds good, I can't help but think that it might be a bit simplistic and it becomes problematic if we take that thinking to extremes: Should I feel purposeful if I work to make handguns for a firearm company? Should I feel a sense of purpose if I work to make money for a company that exploits workers or the environment in the developing world? Should I feel a sense of purpose if I am a CIA assassin?

Perhaps the reality is that there is a feedback loop between purpose and vocation. Each informs the other; each challenges the other; each molds the other.

Provision

I have two close teacher friends who are both looking to leave the teaching profession because they cannot financially provide for their families. One of them wrote the following to me in a recent email:

"I am thinking about leaving the profession...I am not providing for my family and it is increasingly expensive as [my kids] get older...This month has been really hard...I hope that we can figure something out. My debt keeps growing and I am not keeping up with my bills. It sucks that I can't do what I want to [teach] because of money."

This makes me very sad, because this friend is a phenomenal teacher. I also know a single mom with three children who teaches elementary school in my school system. If she were to apply, her children would qualify for federal free/reduced school lunch.

While salaries are low for beginning teachers, it often doesn't seem so bad because most new teachers are young, single and just glad to be drawing a salary after getting out of school. And besides, when you are 22, many of your friends aren't earning much more money than you are. Even so, many new teachers struggle to even pay rent and make car payments. The problem appears to become more severe as teachers enter mid-career: a teacher with a master's degree in North Carolina earns $40,130 after EIGHT years of experience; after TWENTY-FOUR years of experience (16 years later), that same teacher still earns less than $50,000 ($49,970). That's an annual average increase in salary of $615 or 1.4%. Inflation averages 3.0% , which means that these teachers actually have less money each year for those 16 years.

The reality is that good, qualified, passionate teachers leave teaching because these salaries don't provide their families with the financial security they want. As a society, I don't think we can complain about teacher quality when the salary schedules discourge qualified people from staying in (or joining) the profession.

Playing Left-Field

Today we were talking about gold mining for a little while in my classes. The students had just read an article about the environmental and health impact of a mining technique called "heap leaching."

When I asked my 7th period class, "So what is this thing called 'heap leaching?" the first student to respond answered that "heap leaching is when someone covers their entire body with leeches."

What is My Class Really Like?: A Study in Relativism

Student 1, Yesterday:
"Are we just taking notes today? All you do is lecture!"

Student 2, Today:
"Are we doing another lab today. We are always doing labs in here!"

Student 1 and Student 2 are both taking the same class with me.

Wow

As a teacher at an arts-focused school, I get asked all the time by my students if I am going to attend their such-and-such concert. Guitar concert, percussion concert, dance concert, band concert, choir concert, play, musical, etc. Since we also have sports like any other school, I also get asked if I am going to attend their such-and-such game. Basketball game, soccer game, baseball game, volleyball game, swim meet, softball game, etc.

I am usually up for one big event or game per semester. I realize that's not a lot, but it can be difficult to go home after a long day of teaching and then find the energy to return to school an hour or so later to interact again with students and their parents. But tonight was the night.

Tonight I attended the Winter Dance Concert at my school. It was simply amazing. Students who are timid and lack confidence in my class were bold, powerful and graceful on the stage. Students who struggled mightily to pass my class had choreographed and performed entire numbers. The music was pulsing; the movements were fluid; the timing was impeccable; the performers were inspiring--and they were just teenagers.

Tonight is why I love my job.

Confronted With My Own Humanity

There is no doubt that teaching forces me to confront my own humanity almost every day. Yesterday, in fact, I snapped at a student who was annoying me, and then felt terrible about it until the next morning.

What makes these incidents so disappointing for me is that I try very carefully to "manage" my life in order to be in tip-top shape while teaching--so that I don't screw up and snap at students who annoy me. I make sure that I get enough sleep, eat well, and prepare dilligently for each class. I do these things carefully and intentionally so that I will be as well-rested, patient, and refreshed as possible as I face the demands of my 115 students each day. I place great importance on my relationships with students and work hard to cultivate those relationships through genuine and consistent interest in their lives. However, no matter how well I try to arrange my life to optimize myself for the classroom, there are always times when I can't escape the limitations of my own humanity--my pride will prevent me from admitting I'm wrong in front of a class; I'll be short-tempered with a kid; I'll neglect a struggling student; I'll stress out about an obnoxious parent; or I'll let my feelings (and pride) be hurt by criticism of my teaching.

The good news, however, is that it can be a gift to be faced with my own shortcomings on a daily basis. It ensures that I don't live in a dream-world in which I'm the star. It keeps me humble. It causes me to feel deeply--to hurt, to seek help, to pray, and to have hope. These are great things and I'm thankful to be in a profession which prompts me to experience them.

A Sign of Our Times

I was sitting in a parent-teacher conference the other day. This was a conference in which the student, his parents, the guidance counselor, and ALL of the student's academic teachers were present. Here are the common themes with this student: he has done absolutely no work inside or outside of class, never brings paper or pencil or notebook to class, has an excuse for everything, and has been consistently lying to his parents about his performance.

What was his parents' response upon hearing this report from all of his teachers?

"We need to get him tested (for special education placement)!"