Somehow, along the way, my circle of friends has suddenly started boasting a rather high teacher to non-teacher ratio. As a matter of fact, as I do a mental scan of the people currently in my life, teaching is probably the most common profession. And not just with the old Philly crowd either. Seems as though quite a few members of my new Charm City posse spend their days in front of a chalk board, handing out detention slips. May God bless you.
So on this, the day after Labor Day, the day that just reeks of all things “School Year”, the day on which I looked out my bedroom window and noticed that the leaves are already starting to change, I must give a quick shout out to all my teacher friends with this highest of accolades:
Y’all rock.
Our lives are a series of choices of how to spend the various forms of currency we have. All day, every day, we get to choose how we spend not only our money, but our time on this earth and the talents we are given. A person chooses a certain career path, and thus how she will spend the bulk of her time, for a multitude of reasons, both internally and externally driven. I love my line of work, I really do. And while I do firmly believe there is somewhat of a contribution to the “greater good” in what I do, mostly my job just benefits me, mentally and financially. If I made a pie chart out of my professional motivators, or better yet a bar stool, each of those three motivators would have an equal presence. Of course I am well aware that the societal contribution my job makes is not exactly Mother Teresea-esque, per say, but if you’d been privy to some of the conversations I’ve had over the years, you would agree that those in my line of work can and do have a positive impact. And it is this ounce of a contribution that has attracted me to my particular arena as opposed to, say, widgets. However, I’ll be the first to admit it, take the leg of the bar stool out that represents the financial reward, and I’d be flat on my ass in the bar with a spilled beer and a mouth full of curse words. And in about ten minutes I’d be out of that bar, headed home to troll around on Monster.com.
From the outside looking in, it seems to me that the legs of a teacher’s bar stool are largely made of the altruistic motivation to shape the lives of the children they teach. Why else would they do it? After all, last I looked, teaching was not topping Fortune 500’s list of most lucrative careers.
Sure, there are perks. Teachers love to remind the world that they get the summers off, to be spent sleeping in and smugly lounging about all day, while those of us in Corporate America spend our summers toiling away for The Man. All summer long they post status updates on Facebook lamenting sleeping through yet another episode of The Price Is Right and similar. However, in taking a quick mental scan, I notice that at least half of my teacher friends have to take some form of employment during the summer months, thus winding up right next to us in the salt mines and negating the one big non-altruistic lever.
No, no, no, as best I can tell, the thing that keeps a teacher coming to work every day ain’t the dough, and it probably ain’t the summer vacation. It’s the high that comes from living a life of service to others.
It’s not that I’m trying to pass out halos for all my teacher friends to wear around or to blow sunshine up their fabulous rear ends. Or maybe I am. Maybe encouraging my teacher friends with these mad props is my small way of joining in on their high before heading off for another day in a career that largely benefits only me. After all, I’m insanely jealous of the meaning and purpose that is innately infused into their lives as a result of their career choice. Sigh, not jealous enough to join them, but still.
In any case, I don’t think we in this world tell others often enough how highly we regard them. So, without further ado, to all my teacher friends: Thank you. You do important work. Not only is it appreciated by your students and their families, but also by those of us who were most definitely not called to your noble profession.
Readers (all 10 now? boo-ya!), if you feel me on this, drop a line. If you know a teacher in need of a halo, pass this along...
My blood runs corporate,
khop
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I do it strictly for the money, and the joy of parent-teacher conferences
ReplyDeleteI have been doubting my choice of profession almost every day now. I'm doing a job where most of my class doesn't really listen to me. The kids i'm supposed to be teaching just want to treat me like shit (no respect at all), and aren't actually learning what I am trying to teach. I'm at work for 10-11 hours a day, and I have to work more during my evenings and weekend. Tell me again why I do this?
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