teacher mcteacherpants

A response to why I want to be a teacher could go on for pages and pages. It is constantly growing and morphing with all of the new things I learn and experiences I have. Yet, I can generally put my reasons for wanting to go into education in a few categories:

I want to go into education because…

1.     of the teachers and mentors I have had

2.     of the inequities in our educational system I want to try and address as an agent for social change and justice

3.     of the students I have met who have changed my life

4.     it requires me to constantly grow, reflect, change and look critically at myself and the world around me

5.     I can’t imagine doing anything else

Almost every story or reason would fit under one of those main groupings, but in an attempt to shed a little more detailed light, I’ll tell one quick story.

About two years ago I began to work at Bellingham Cooperative School in Bellingham, Washington. When I first started there I worked with the before-and-after-school kids. Two kids who came nearly every morning were G and A. G was A’s older brother, and needed to be walked to the nearby public elementary school every morning. A had never been away from her older brother (she was a few years younger and stayed at BCS during the day), and to make matters more complicated, G and A’s parents had just gotten a divorce and the two kids were being shuffled from house to house on a frequent basis.

Perhaps against my better judgment, I allowed A to walk to the public school with G and I every weekday morning and then I would walk back to BCS with her. This started in September, and nearly every morning until December, A would be fine on the walk to school, when we were dropping off G and as we were leaving the school. A few steps off of the school grounds and A would collapse in a heap, crying and screaming. Knowing that I needed to get back to BCS so I could drive to my classes, and that A needed to join in morning circle for her class, I would hold her in my arms every morning as she kicked me, cried and pulled at my hair for the 8 block walk back that felt like miles. Sometimes I would set her down for a minute and she would instantly start running back towards the public school – setting us back a few blocks, and we would start again. 

Every morning we went through the same routine. Most mornings when we got to BCS, A would run into the woods and hide. I would sit outside at a nearby tree –sometimes talking to her and sometimes just sitting – as she cried and eventually would come in. While our interactions sometimes looked bizarre to those passing by – parents in cars passing by looked mortified as she kicked me, or would slow down and ask if I needed any help getting my child out of a tree – it wasn’t strange to me. In her own way, A was testing and learning to trust me, and I wasn’t going to go anywhere.

It was one of the first days of December when A was curled up under a tree that I came near her and sat down. Some mornings she would run when I came close, but this morning she stayed. I was having a hard time of my own – there had been a death in the family and while I was trying hard to concentrate on my job when I was there, feelings of sadness, missing and loss kept creeping up. When I came over to A it was obvious that she had been crying; her eyes were red and watery, her body was so little and huddled together, and her chin was shaking. We didn’t say anything at first, but after a few minutes I blurted out something about how I was really sad and missed my family. I told her about how I was sad that I didn’t get to see my mom and dad every day, and that it was hard to be at school when I just wanted to be with them. A put her head into her arms and started to cry again as she told me how she missed her parents and didn’t like all of the changes going on.

While that wasn’t that last morning A and I ever had any breakdowns on the way to or from school, it was the last time that she ever ran away, kicked or screamed. It was also the day that I realized I absolutely, positively work with kids for the rest of my life.