Being a teacher is not a job for those lacking in self-confidence and control. Sometimes things happen, or are said/done by students that can be quite trying. Then, there are the moments when a student or students do or say something entirely unprecedented. It is a mixture of good and bad when occassionally the negative out-weighs the positive and vice versa. It is passion and a will of iron that gets us through each day and makes me continue on the path to my calling, to be a teacher.

As someone only a couple years older than most of the class, I had hoped to connect with many of them because of my age. I had hoped that maybe- just maybe- I could reach a few of them and make them feel some semblance of my passion for learning. At the very least, I had hoped to be seen as someone to be trusted and respected. Part of me knew that the chances of that were fairly slim. Hey, my fellow high-schoolers have not gotten it into their skulls. These are ninth graders, and not atypical to their age group, immaturity ensues. If they do not like someone or something, they tend to find some fairly crude and uncalled for measures to let it be known. I soon found out first-hand in a rather mild fashion.

It is normal for me, on the days that I am in class, to write some insightful tidbit by some well-known or obscure name that I hope will inspire discussion. Occassionally I even write a humorous quote by a friend or some other individual. One day, as I was doing this, in the bottom corner of the board, I took note of an inscription in a handwriting not belonging to either of the teachers or myself. Upon further inspection, comprehension of the scribble etched itself into my brain. It read:

Ac is retarded

Okay, I know that it is impossible to win them all and that this is to be expected from immature students.  This knowledge, however, does not stop such a scrawl from making an impact on someone's ego or pride. In all honesty, it hurt. Deeply. It hurt mostly because my intellect was being insulted by someone who had not known me nearly long enough to make such an assumption. It was unfounded! Despite- or perhaps, in spite of- I returned for the remaining week or two. I never knew who had written it, nor do I want to know. I have my suspicions. I only wish that the student(s) grows up and learns to treat others with dignity and respect whether anonymously or openly.

Not all students acted so contemptuously. There was one student (who shall remain nameless because I am too lazy to go to the junior high and ask his permission to use his name in my paper ^.^) whobrightened my day if only just a little. I will refer to him with this extremely generic you'll-never-guess-who-in-a-million-years-unless-he-tells-you kind of name: Bob. It was the day of my taped lesson for the class. I was relieved to have finished teaching about Shakespeare's sonnets and I just wanted to leave.  The class had been obnoxious, loud, rude, interruptive, with the occassional complaint and over-heard profanity. It was very difficult to keep the class focussed. As a matter of fact, I cannot seem to recall when I had ever had their full attention to keep. The teachers seemed to think it was a success! I was feeling quite worn and much without whole, unsnapped nerve. Class was over- finally! "Bob" approached me. He had actually been the most cooperative and kindred of the boisterous students. It is safe to say that I liked him for the most part. I was wary, but greeted him anyway. Much to my surprise, Bob apologized for the class's behavior and told me I had done a good job. Shocked by this kind gesture, all I could do was thank him. No matter how badly that lesson had gone, I cannot help but feel well about the day for that one, simple well wishing.

As with everything else, everyday is not going to be a picinic with sunshine and no ants.  For the most part, students are going to be those little ants eating away at your grandma's homemade pineapple upside-down cake when you are not looking. I know. I have been one of those pesky creatures. Ants have never stopped me from laying out a blanket on the grass, though. And neither have clouds and rain which are the hurtful and patience-trying occurrences. When it rains, and the ants are eating my food, I find another approach. If I want a picinic, gosh darnit, I am going to have one! I may not be able to stir in every pupil a passion for literature and language and learning. All I can do is hope that my work touches at least one student every year or two.

I cannot say that my experience in the classroom was pleasant, nor can I say that it was wholly terrible and that I want nothing to do with it. I will say this: No matter what experience I may have had these passing few weeks in Mrs. Stoltz's classroom, I am a teacher. I did not choose this. It is what I am supposed to do and who I am. Frequently, I think and ask, "Who am I, that I should go into the world and teach these minds?" Then I am reminded of a time when Moses asked God a similar question.

This is not a question of "Who am I...?" It is simply what I must do- what I have been called to do and will do.  I have a passion and a will and a faith that will keep my spirits high and strong. I want to do this. I wake up every morning with a fire burning to do it. Mrs.Kraus, do you wake up in the morning and wonder at what you will learn- wonder at what new lesson you will teach to your students and yourself? Life is a classroom, and we are all students and teachers. I am going to be one professionally.