Why Karma Should Dictate That My Old Dentist Develop A Latex Allergy

In answer to Cheryl’s post, I am taking TWO courses this summer: Instructional Media and Technology; and Introduction to Educational Research. I have just begun a master’s in Instructional Technology that will in all likelihood take about four years to complete. The result of my superhuman efforts to manage my children, husband, home, self, work, and class work is that I will be certified to work as a Technology, Research, Assessment, and Media Specialist in secondary education. (This is a fancy way of saying I will be qualified to be a librarian. I know, I know…you are sooooooooooo impressed.)

This admission means that I may as well just fess up and admit to my profession. (Though I suspect a fair number of you have already guessed.) I have sort of dodged this issue on numerous occasions because my job is one that invokes strong feelings from others. When people find out what I do for a living they have one of two reactions, and I don’t like either of them.

Okay, here goes: I am a high school teacher. That’s right, I teach the youth of America. I don’t know a thing about what to do with my own children, but I’m paid to educate hundreds of others on a yearly basis. For some strange reason teachers are not well thought of in America. Most other countries LOVE their teachers, but Americans put teachers in much the same category as the French. (By the way, I apologize to all of you French out there. My husband is a quarter French, so I know of your plight.) That is to say, Americans barely tolerate them. Sure, Americans love some of the things teachers/the French do, but after simple phonetics and rudimentary math are covered or the français frites are enjoyed, they question our worth. It’s sad, really, because I never walk around questioning the value of, say, financial advisors or office managers. I believe all professions are important in their own right. Perhaps most people assume that because they have BEEN TAUGHT and BEEN A STUDENT that teaching is a no-brainer involving very little skill? The jury is still out on that, but I can tell you that when people bug me to the point that I finally must reveal my chosen career, they often force me to:

1. Listen to long personal narratives about how twenty years ago XYZ teacher made a bad call and ruined his/her life forever (i.e.: The teacher didn’t believe the dog ate said person’s homework when everyone in town knew the dog was a ruthless paper-vore, dropped the speaker one letter grade in class for not putting his/her name on a paper, graded all of his/her work harder than everyone else’s work because the teacher “didn’t like me,”etc.). This narrative comes in many forms. Sometimes a teacher embarrassed said person at a pivotal time in his/her life and he/she has never been the same. Lots of people kvetch that Mr. or Mrs. X “didn’t give me an ‘A’ when I had an 89.96% in the class! I was only 5 points away!” (Dude, you didn’t earn it. Period. Other kids did. That’s life. Er, rather that is how numbers crunch. Let it go already.) There’s always the “that teacher picked on me” story in which the speaker was a hapless, completely innocent victim of some teacher’s rage on a daily basis. (Oh yeah? What were you doing to get the attention of said teacher? Constantly talking to a friend and distracting the rest of the class perhaps?) Don’t get me wrong, in any profession there are a few bad apples. But there are also two sides to every story. Yes, there are some teachers who don’t deserve the title of educator, but they are comparatively few. Ultimately, these drama queens who whine about their past teachers need to get over it already and start rebuilding their sad, mopey lives. They had a problem with one teacher out of many, many, many teachers. Ever had a bad boss? I have. It happens. Move on. Want an apology? Okay. On behalf of all teachers everywhere, my sincere condolences. My advice to these people: Stop wasting your energy on an isolated experience long, long ago and go make your life something fabulous.

2. Answer pop quiz questions or point out every little mistake I make related to my field of study. For some reason there are a surprising number of people who hear the title of “teacher” and it sets their competitive little mouse running around the competitive little wheel in their competitive little heads. They long to catch me up (or some other teacher) to prove they are smarter. I don’t know why this is. I often wonder whether astrophysicists are cornered at dinner parties and quizzed about the theory of general relativity’s impact on space-time or mocked because they distractedly messed up in balancing their check books. In any case, these competitive freaks are often the same people who find it perfectly acceptable to tell me that teachers make too much money and/or get too much time off…often shortly after they brag to me about the amazing financial haul they pulled in with their new stock options and fabulous yearly bonus. The really strange thing is that these people who think teachers are a.) dumb, b.) overpaid, and c.) have fabulous schedules are the same ones who shudder and protest when I suggest that they become teachers themselves, so they can revel in their perceived teacher glory.

True story. I once had a root canal done by a dentist who asked me what I did for a living and then spent the entire TWO HOURS of root reaming hell telling me about teachers he hated as a young person and how teachers are overpaid. What kind of sick bag of pathetic hubris produces behavior like that? I have news for you, buddy: those teachers who “wronged you” were doing the world a favor. Clearly, this guy is—and has always been—an uncouth boor. May you (and you know who you are!) develop a sudden allergy to your latex gloves and they burn you like fire. Like fire!

By now it may have crossed your mind that it is odd for a teacher to struggle with childrearing. After minutes upon minutes of soul searching, I have come up with an answer: I teach teens, not babies and children. Clearly, there is a huge difference. If an adolescent comes up to me with an issue involving curriculum, bullying, eating disorders, suicidal thoughts, friendship dilemmas, parental pressure, college/career concerns, family troubles, or predicaments with a significant other, I know exactly what to do. I am in my element. But when it comes to potty training, I have no relevant experience. Worse, none of the research I apply to my parenting problems seems to work. What the books say to do and what actually ends up happening are often miles apart.

Oooooooo-ooooooooh.... I see I have rambled. Forgive me. Um...how do I get off this soap box?

In short, Cheryl, I am studying to be a librarian. (A librarian with excellent shoe wear!)