What Teaching Really is: According to a First Year Teacher

I am an advocate, a defender of the weak... and the strong, a muse, an organizer, a rule writer, a lesson planner, a shoulder to cry on, a nose wiper, a bathroom monitor, a sink monitor, a hall monitor, basically any and every kind of monitor you can think of, a listener, a speaker, an artist, a motivator, a judge and jury, an intermediary, a peacemaker, a question answerer, a question giver, a task manager, an instruction maker, a (uncertified) counselor, a maid, a designer, a cheerleader, a mentor, a grader, a researcher, a presenter, a history keeper, an observer, a notetaker... and a million other things I don't even have the time to come up with titles for.

Because I am an educator.

And on any given week (or even day) I might be one or all of these things to nearly 600 students. 600 students who all have different needs, different backgrounds, different problems, different strengths, different weaknesses, different personalities, different learning styles, different everything.

I've read a couple education articles that say the average teacher makes 1,500 decisions per day. In a 7 hour work day (but lets be real it's never only 7 hours) that comes to about 3.5 decisions a minute. But honestly, that sounds low to me. As teachers, we never stop moving around the room, looking from desk to desk, table to table, student to student. We're constantly looking for problems to fix or even problems to avoid before they happen. We watch for confusion we can clear up and misbehaviors we have to address.

And then with each thing we come up against there are a million ways in which to handle it. A million things to take into consideration. How will the student react when I ask them to do that? What's the best way I can ask that question in order to get the best thought-out answer from them? What's the best way to say that thing so that they'll understand? What worked last week when I came up against this same problem with another student? How did that student react and will this one react similarly or should I try a different tactic altogether? Is this behavior happening because of something I did or because of something that has absolutely nothing to do with me? And if that's the case how do I even begin to address it?

I tell you all this not so that you'll pity me and my fellow teachers. I tell you this because everyone thinks they understand what teaching is. I thought I understood what teaching was when I made the decision to become one. But people don't understand. I didn't. I knew lesson planning would be time consuming. I knew I'd have to work some late nights. I even expected it to be hard in the way that any new job is hard. But teaching is not like any other job. At least not any other job that I've had.

I thought working with adults in the graphic design field was difficult at times. And it was, in it's own way. But there has never been anything in my work life harder than trying to get a 5th grade boy who could not care less about school or art to be quiet long enough to hear 3 minutes worth of instruction. There is nothing harder than listening to an 8 year old tell you about her mom who is getting out of prison tomorrow. Or listen to a 5 year old scream his head off at you while you're trying to teach an entire classroom of other 5 year olds until you agree to help him clean his muddy shoes off so that he doesn't get in trouble with dad when he gets home. There is nothing harder than seeing the confusion in a child's eyes who just cannot understand the lesson you're trying to teach them no matter how hard they try, and through no fault of their own, and feeling like you've failed them because you just don't know how their brain works and how to help them understand. There is nothing harder than watching a 10 year old make the decision to walk across the room and punch another student because in his mind there is no other way to solve a problem.

(photo credit paulinerouziou)

I don't teach children. I teach people. People who already have their minds made up about the world around them. People who have already been jaded by things I can't even imagine. Who deal with situations I didn't even know existed when I was their age. When I decided to become a teacher I didn't take into account the diversity of the minds and backgrounds that would walk through my classroom doors and the fact that a lot of my students would have seen more tragedy and difficulty in their very young lives than I ever have and probably ever will. I pictured teaching a bunch of little me's. Well surprise, surprise. Children are just as diverse as the adults who raised them.

My ultimate goal (and the ultimate goal of the majority of educators out there) is not simply to get information into my student's heads so that they can get good grades or pass tests. It's to help them grow as humans. To show them things that will broaden their horizons and show them a world beyond the one that they live in and can't see past. My goal is to make them see that I care. Not just about their grades or their art projects or their behavior. But that I care about them as people. As individuals. And that there is no doubt in my mind that they were made to do great things.

That is what teaching is. That is why we make a million little decisions a week, a day, a minute. Teaching is hard. It is exhausting. It is like nothing else. But I do it in the hopes of making even a small impact in even one of their young lives. I don't mind wiping a kid's nose if it'll make him feel cared for. I don't mind repeating myself 5 times in a 60 second window if it means my students will be successful in completing a project correctly. I don't mind listening to the same story from a child multiple times if it means for just a moment they feel heard. I don't mind spending every Sunday afternoon prepping for a project that some of my students will complain about if it means that in the end they'll learn something that they didn't even know they needed to know. I don't mind crying on my drive home from work because it was such a long and difficult day, if it meant that even in the hardest situations, I did my best and gave those kids my all. I can't mind it. Because I can do it. And not everyone can.

So to all the educators out there, know that you matter. Know that your job is hard and you're still doing it. That alone says a lot. Know that you are seen. Know that you are rightfully exhausted. Both emotionally and physically. Know that at least one (but probably many) of your students' lives are better because they know you. Know that your best is enough. And that at the end of the day, after you've been a million things to a million people and all you can think about is getting into bed before you have to get up tomorrow and do it all over again, that you are making a difference. Just by caring enough to try.

(photo credit to jellyd)