…nā manaʻo ulu wale…

I’ve been reading TenseTeacher for a while now, well, because misery loves company We have similar thoughts. No, really, but I love reading other people’s experiences and seeing how they handle the whole mess we deal with. I especially love reading her comments that she leaves while grading papers. She reminds me of a teacher I had in high school! I had so many comments like that all over my paper! I don’t get to write things like that on my kids’ papers–I’d be happy if they even knew that a sentence is a complete thought.

Anyway, I was reading a recent post, and she asked a question that I thought would be interesting to explore — why do we continue to teach?

From the prologue of Teacher Man by Frank McCourt:

“In America, doctors, lawyers, generals, actors, television people and politicians are admired and rewarded. Not teachers. Teaching is the downstairs maid of professions. Teachers are told to use the service door or go around the back. They are congratulated on having ATTO (All That Time Off). They are spoken of patronizingly and patted, retroactively, on their silvery locks. Oh, yes, I had an English teacher, Miss Smith, who really inspired me. I’ll never forget dear old Miss Smith. She used to say that if she reached one child in her forty years of teaching it would make it all worthwhile. She’d die happy. The inspiring English teacher then fades into gray shadows to eke out her days on a penny-pinching pension, dreaming of the one child she might have reached. Dream on, teacher. You will not be celebrated.”

So if that’s true…then why do it? Why put ourselves through stress that so many other people don’t want to do and will never understand?

I remember once, during a faculty meeting, our principal told us that all teachers are selfish. She said when asked why most teachers go into teaching, she said listen to their answers. It’s only to make themselves feel good. We were a bunch of selfish, needy people, and that’s why we teach. I remember being angry that she had said that. How dare? But then again…why do we put ourselves through this torture if we do not get something good out of it?

So as a much anticipated spring break has arrived, I sit here and reflect. Why? Why do I do it? Why go back, year after year, after swearing that the current year was going to be my last? What is it that I seek?

I will start off that when I was a little girl, I wanted to be a teacher. I thought it was the perfect “mommy” job, since all I ever wanted to be was a mommy. I thought it would be a good job because I would have my summers off to spend with my kids. We’d have all the same vacations off, we’d have the same hours in the day, and I could spend all the extra time with my kids. Perfect, I thought.

In high school, it changed. I wanted to be a stewardess, even though I didn’t have the height or the looks, because I wanted to travel all over. My aunty was a stewardess, and she got to go all over. I thought that was a neat perk of the job. Then, of course Aloha Flight 243 happened, which pretty much ended my hope there. I then turned my thoughts to maybe being a Polynesian dancer or something. (Yes, my goals were pretty low in high school.)

In college, I became increasingly interested in Hawaiian language and culture, and upon graduation, I was looking for a job in the archives, doing research and translations. I started off first with a research assistant job at the university, hoping that it would be a stepping stone into the archives job. However, at the time, the Hawaiian Immersion program was really taking off, with more schools wanting to start their own immersion programs, like the first one at Waiau. There was a desperate need for teachers and curriculum developers. I was asked to translate books and develop resources to help support the curriculum. I enjoyed doing this, and the professor I was assisting pushed me into signing up with the College of Education to be an immersion teacher. With the bait of “tuition waiver”…I bit. I applied and got in, even though the advisor told me straight out that he thought I wouldn’t make it. But he’d make an exception in letting me in and taking their courses because they really needed immersion teachers.

I went through the program quickly and graduated in December. The following semester, I had calls from principals for “long term subs” positions for teachers out on maternity, but none of them would hire me. I admit, I don’t scream “teacher material” in appearance because I’m on the quiet side. I don’t have that effervescent personality that most teachers have. I began to see what my advisor was saying.

I finally got hired during the summer. The principal didn’t really care that I was quiet–she just needed a body. But the parent who sat in the interview with her really liked me. She said the kindergarten teacher was loud and mean. I would be the perfect counter to her when the kids moved up to first grade. I went in and did my job. I realized how many hours outside the school day was devoted to doing my job. I was there at 6:30 every morning, and didn’t leave until 6pm–and only because I *had* to, because the custodians want to lock up and set the alarms, and we weren’t allowed to have the security codes to our classrooms. There were also a lot of parent meetings to attend, other committee meetings, workshops, etc. I was bewildered at how much you had to do! I found out that year, that this definitely was not the easy mommy job I thought it was when I was younger!

But I guess what TenseTeacher is asking is why do we keep going back? Knowing all the crap we have to deal with…why keep going? And true, a lot of teachers do drop out. Our principal told us that a lot leave by the 3rd year–they hit a wall, and just drop out, find other professions. Are the rest of us idiots? Do we like to punish ourselves? What?

I know I go back because of the kids, and only the kids. I do not care for administration or parents. But the kids–that’s why I’m there. I love my kiddies. As they move on through the grade levels, I love it when they stop by after school to keep me updated on the things that’s happened with them. Sometimes, that’s all they have, you know? They’re not lucky, like I was, to have a mom who stayed at home and picked us up after school and sat with us to do our homework. Both parents are working and the kids go home to empty houses, then the parents come home, stressed and tired, and do not want to spend time with the kids. So I guess I’m sorta the “surrogate parent” which I guess fulfills some sort of need within me. I always wanted to have lots of kids. I have one, whom I love dearly. But sometimes I feel like … I wish I had more. So I guess that’s something these kids do for me. That’s one reward I get.

I would guess another is that I love learning. And you are constantly learning on this job. Not only workshops and stuff–but from the kids themselves. They open your eyes to so many things. I am always learning from them. They teach me how to be a better teacher for the next class, which is very valuable.

I guess another is arrogance. I tell myself I have to keep coming back for the kids. Because if I’m not there, then who will be? Well, of course, there will be another teacher there, if I’m not there. And it could be an even better teacher, so I’m actually taking away from the kids. But I tell myself that I’m there for the kids. Maybe a way to make myself feel important?

So is that it, really? That I boost my own self-esteem by feeling important, learning more, and fulfilling my need to be a parent? Gosh, that does sound … a bit sad. Grrrr. I hate it when my principal is right. >:(