I have always believed that teaching is a calling much like a pastor or a priest must feel. It is in one’s blood to teach. Not a choice as much as a destiny. Silly, you may say, but when good teachers engage in good teaching, it really is nothing less than blessed. And like pastoring a church, teaching requires a multitude of skills. Teachers must be counselors, parents, friends, advisers, listeners, encouragers, supporters, and advocates. We must care deeply without getting “too” involved in our students’ lives. We must advocate for them always, remembering that we only are given so much emotional capital, so we must spend it wisely. And so it goes.
When individuals listen to the “call” and become teachers, their lives will forever be changed. Nothing will ever be the same. They will experience the most comprehensive joy, as well as the most comprehensive sorrow. They will be asked to share secrets that no one else will ever hear. They will be asked to share in choir concerts , football game, volleyball games, and drama presentations. They will be allowed to read the most intimate of writings, and they will wipe away the tears late at night because the reality of being impotent to truly change another’s life is overwhelming sad. And they will know joy unlike any other. They will giggle over malapropisms uttered by their students, and they will laugh at the outrageous antics enjoyed at the annual homecoming pep rally. And sometimes, they will have experiences that stop them in their tracks.
I teach senior English is a small rural town in Northern Arizona. Eighty percent of my students are Native American and most of my students come from depressed economic backgrounds. During this particular year, I had a student who had watched as his mother had been shot and killed by his father, and then his father turned the gun on himself. Seth and his brother watched this occur as they shielded their baby sister’s eyes from the tragedy unfolding in their living room. All three children went to live with their grandmother after the incident and things were tough for each of them. It is difficult to focus on school when your world has literally fallen apart.
Seth was a good student and he dreamed of joining the military as soon as he graduated. He always had a sadness about him and I tried to build a relationship with him, but he always proved to be a bit more reticent than my other students. One day we were doing group work and I was working my way through my classroom checking the work of my students. From across the room, Seth raised his hand and called, “Hey, Mom, can you come and help me?” I immediately looked at Seth. As our eyes met, I could see that his were filled with tears. Mine did the same. I paused for a moment as we looked at each other. He managed a weak smile and as I walked over to his desk, he hung his head and shielded his face. I knelt beside him and whispered, “I am here.” After a moment, a simple, “Thanks.” Our relationship began to blossom after that day.
Yes, teaching is a calling because teachers are entrusted with the greatest asset our country has: our children. Along with their parents, we will nurture and love them, and always, hope that life is kind to them. And when life chooses not to be, we will encourage and prod and cajole. Because what this child has to offer you and me is boundless and mysterious and perfect. The time we spend with them is priceless and this thing called “teaching” is indeed a blessing. A blessing of the most profound kind.
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