You know how every little kid gets asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Yep, happened to me too, and here is a chronological list of my responses:
1. Mommy (I’ve wanted to be a mom since age 3!)
2. Cowgirl. When I was about 7, my dad was offered a free horse (to which he replied “There’s no such thing as a free horse.”) Needless to say, we didn’t get a horse and I wouldn’t look at him for a few days.
3. International spy. Complete with binoculars and fingerprinting kits, this Spy Kids-induced phase lasted through age 12.
4. Wildlife biologist. Age 17.
5. Aerospace engineer. Work for NASA? Legit. This was my plan most of the way through college.
Notice how teaching was never part of the plan. So, what happened? Free grad school is what happened.
My university had paid graduate assistantships like most universities. Unlike most programs, though, the math department had their GA’s plan, teach, and create almost all materials needed for 2 sections of college algebra.
So, when I was approached by a professor suggesting I look into the program, I hesitated.
Pros: A free master’s degree plus stipend, real teaching experience, continue working with some of the coolest people ever.
Cons: I had never taught a single thing IN MY LIFE, trying to explain a universally despised subject to my peers, stepping WAY WAY WAY out of my comfort zone.
The free education thing won me over and I figured even if I was terrible I could probably hack it for a couple years.
Flash forward to my first day. We had two days of “training” which was basically a PR seminar on how to avoid getting the university sued. Nothing like trial by fire, right?!
Anyway, I give my 21-year-old self a pep talk, say a quick prayer, and step into my very first classroom. 35 faces stared back at me like “you’ve got to be joking.” I hold my head high (they can sense fear!) and take role. We cover the syllabus and some start to put their things away. Then, I drop the inconceivable bomb that we were going to start taking notes today. Cue the glares.
But I knew if I didn’t prove myself that very first day they wouldn’t take me seriously. And so, using a graph and the Pythagorean Theorem, I showed them where the distance formula came from. Some wrote furious notes. Some just stared in disbelief. I wondered if I should even come back the next day.
At the end of class, I put down my chalk, smiled, and told them I hoped they had a great day. Some smiled back, some just high-tailed it out of there. But once everyone else had gone, a football player (who started the hour smirking and glaring) came up to me and said something I’ll never forget.
“You know,” said the linebacker who TOWERED over me, “I learned more from you today than I learned in 4 years of math in high school.”
And he left. Probably forgot he even said it by the next day.
But it changed my life.
Hearing that you make a difference is a high that you just can’t stop chasing. I wanted more. More students who hated math learn to love it. More “I can’s.” More “I learned so much from you!”
And so, I became a teacher.
When my daughter was born, I left the field to stay home with her, but I’m still a teacher.
And through my writing, I hope that I never stop chasing that feeling of making a difference in a young person’s life.
So, I will always be a teacher. No matter what form that takes.
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