$43,000 in the Crapper

 

 

            After five years, fifty credit hours in the College of Education, $43,000 in student loans, and a year-long slave internship, it turns out that I hate teaching.  This is, perhaps, the most expensive conclusion I’ve ever come to.

            I don’t want to hate teaching.  People always respond so positively when I tell them I’m a teacher.

 

            Driving Instructor:  “Really?  That’s wonderful!  We sure do need good teachers—dedicated teachers.  It takes a special kind of person to be a teacher.  My niece is a kindergarten teacher.  Teacher, teacher, teacher.”

            Me:  “Shut-up!  Stop saying teacher!”

 

            My alma mater, Michigan State University, has one of the top colleges of education in the country, which is a fact they never fail to throw into a conversation.  (“My grandfather immolated himself yesterday, which is a pity because MSU’s college of education is top ranked in the country.”)

            But why are they so good?  What has catapulted MSU’s program above everyone else’s (I should clarify that, although MSU considers itself the Harvard of colleges of education, U.S. News and World Report only ranks their elementary education, secondary education, and “rehabilitation counseling” secondary programs as the best—and they have to share that last one with the University of Wisconsin at Madison because everybody felt bad that Wisconsin sucks so much).

            Anyway, why are MSU’s teachers so great?  Because they are obsessed with teaching.  It dominates every facet of their lives.  When they read books, they find ways to use them in the classroom.  A movie?  Use it as a teaching aid.  Your colonoscopy?  It must have some classroom applications!

            And they got so excited about the most mundane topics.  Quite a few of my classmates started a “Kiddie Lit Club.”  They enthusiastically shared upcoming activities with the rest of the class.  Others couldn’t wait to go to teacher conferences, where, for $40, you can listen to other teachers present their ideas.  In my opinion, the only good thing about conferences is that the little cups of juice offered during the keynote speaker’s address are occasionally fermented.  I might have gone more often if they’d also laced the Danishes with something interesting.

            Overall, there are some qualities that I find very common among teachers.  Many are sensitive, highly educated, hard working, and have no outstanding felony convictions.  Unfortunately, there are other traits I neither appreciate nor feel prepared to emulate.

 

1.      Teachers talk incessantly.  They are so accustomed to dominating a discussion that they would rather suffocate you into unconsciousness than let you get a word in.

2.      Teachers have loud, grating voices—the product of learning to be heard over thirty raucous students who each seems to have the same lung capacity as a Himalayan athlete.

3.      Teachers usually have high standards.  And I don’t.  The teachers I interned under really stressed the importance of preparing as far in advance as possible.  (I should probably note that both cooperating teachers are classic examples of firstborn child, Type A personalities.)  They often had their lessons planned and materials ready two weeks in advance.  I often had no idea what day it was.  And that works for me; I typically thrive under that pressure.

4.      Another skill my mentor teachers emphasized was omniscience.

Teacher:  “You need to know everything that’s going on in the room.”
Me:  “But that isn’t possible.  No human can do that.”
Teacher:  “And you need to start class sooner—get things going before the bell rings.  Also, when the students enter, make sure you pass back papers.  And take attendance.  And give yesterday’s assignments to students who were absent.”
Me:  “At what point in my education was I supposed to receive magical powers?”

 

5.      Teachers are liars.  I know this because my cooperating teachers told me to lie.  They encouraged me to feign exuberance for every topic and lesson, even when I thought it was stupid.  For example, I had to teach the five-paragraph essay, which is one of the most boring, tedious styles of writing to compose and to read (and grade).  I made the mistake of sharing this opinion and was promptly chastised for my foolishness.  Not only did I need to embrace this style of composition, but my students would enjoy it more if I displayed the same sort of excitement about the 5-P as I would for the second coming of Christ.

 

 

 

 

6.      Teachers are nitpicky.  My instructors at MSU often included numerous comments on my papers that asked questions for me to consider.  I once wrote “We also need to make certain that challenges don’t become frustrating (especially with low-level learners).”  Following, in lovely blue letters, my instructor asked, “and what it [sic] a low-level learner?  What does s/he look like?  How does s/he learn?”  Shall I draw a picture?  Eventually, I just started mindlessly writing papers for these teacher teachers.  I kept my views to myself and offered up pedantic garbage.  (Note:  I bet Dave Barry would really like “Pedantic Garbage” as a name for a band.)

 

            What saddens me the most is that I really enjoy interacting with students.  Usually teachers complain that learners are unruly, loud, poorly behaved little monsters.  But students are a lot like puppies; they just need patience, structure, consistency, and the occasional rolled up newspaper.  In the right environment, each learner has his own personality and isn’t afraid to say the first thing that comes to his (fairly) open mind.  I talked with my students about books, television, movies, music, (their) parents, (their) personal conflicts, pets, writing, culture, school policies, video games—things I never broached with my colleagues, who took everything so seriously and wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise.

            So, teaching isn’t for me.  I’ve learned a lot through the process of getting certified and I hope I can put it to use in a satisfying way.  I really hope some highly placed executives show up at my door and say, “Hey, you’re just the person we’re looking for who happens to have a teaching certificate.  Come creatively write for us.  Here’s a big bag of money.  And some ice-cream.  And a ticket to England, which is where we want you to write.

           If this happens, please, nobody wake me up.

Tags: Teaching