Back To School

The Incredible Privilege of Teaching

In our country many elementary age students have already returned to school. This means having to get up early each day and spend seven whole hours with their one (or two) teachers and 20 or so odd classmates–all day, every weekday, except holidays, for a total of 180 days this school year. That is 1260 hours of the year and 75,600 minutes of the year. This is why it makes a difference who that teacher is and why teaching is such an incredible privilege.

I had two teachers when I was in second grade in Thailand at a Catholic international school. My homeroom teacher who taught all the subjects except religion, was Miss Anna, a pretty, kind, young British woman. Sister Elizabeth, my religion teacher, was a heavyset, stern, older woman. Miss Anna made me feel safe and secure while Sister Elizabeth made me feel tense and at times, nauseated. For a whole school year.

It was then that I began to dream about being a “nice” teacher. I wanted to be the one to make a child’s life peaceful and joyful for an entire school year. As I had more diverse classroom experiences, I realized that being “nice” was not going to be enough. A child could spend their year with a kind, fun teacher and be bored out of their wits. Wouldn’t it be great, I thought, to create a classroom environment where students could find a place of community, belonging and joy in learning. But how?

That is the challenge of teaching. Taking those 180 days and making them worth living, worth getting up for each morning. Good teachers spend the year giving students what they really need. On a daily basis they communicate in words and actions—“You matter. You are safe. You belong here. We have a purpose. We are going to learn.”

To be given the opportunity to create an environment where children can grow and where they can learn lessons that will sustain them throughout life is gold. I tried to communicate to my students those things that would make our year a good one.

• Failure is a part of life.

• It’s safe to admit you’ve done wrong.

• We celebrate wins and make room for grief.

• Curiosity and wonder matter.

Teaching is definitely both a science and an art. Like a chef who uses their knowledge of the chemistry of cooking and their creativity to make a savory and beautiful meal, a teacher is always guided by the science of pedagogy, while intuiting the moves necessary to meet the needs of the students. There is no exact formula that works every time. And it often means persisting in finding a way where there may seem to be no way.

I remember one day I was told several district level employees would be stopping into my classroom. We had a new curriculum in place and they wanted to see it in action. That morning a guidance counselor came to get one of my students. When the student returned, they slumped over on their desk. They had just been told their beloved grandparent passed away. Everyone wanted to know what was wrong. As we talked about it, the students felt compassion for their classmate. They cried. They told their own stories of loss to connect and commiserate. Some of the children sat close to the grieving ones and put their arms around them. They didn’t need to be taught how to care, they just needed the freedom to do what felt natural and right.

I kept fearing the observers would walk in on our tears and grief, but I never regretted giving the children space to feel the loss and to care. By the time the observers arrived, I was able to transition to the story I had chosen for the day that happened to be a comedic fable. “Sometimes, kids, a good book can be a great way to cheer yourself up,” I said, in order to move on.

With all my great hopes and aspirations as a teacher, I was not always able to get a home run or get even a single. The strikeouts were many. I’m grateful, however, that I could practice one of the life lessons I tried to teach my students. Keep your good goals in mind and strive for them as best as you can. When you fail, don’t waste the failure. Use it as a learning experience. That is what it means to be human.

To all the teachers out there who are still in the game, I’m rooting for you!