Why I Teach

My teacher's saved me. I say that often. If it wasn't for education, learning, and the amazing men and women who showed me that I do matter, I would not be where I am today. Growing up I did not want to be a teacher. I had never thought it was anything to consider. I never thought longer in advance than getting through the day. I wouldn't be a teacher today if it weren't for those few who believed in me, because I for sure did not believe in myself. I had FOUR teachers in high school who had an impact on me. Three of those four teachers saved me and helped me choose the right path in my life and one of them fought me every step of the way, which just made me stronger and more determined to do better today. This is my story of their influence. Because of them, I work as hard as I can to provide a safe, loving place for all of my children in my classroom. Because of them, I teach.

I was the kid everyone worried about at school because I was the one with the sad story. I was the one that didn't fit the middle-class life present in the rest of the school. I was the one who was "different" and had emotional needs they didn't know how to handle. Don't get me wrong-I worked HARD-and I strived for excellence. But, I started that late. My sophomore year in high school my creative writing teacher invited me to apply for an AP English & AP History class for my Junior year. I laughed at first.I was NOT "Advanced Placement" material. The fact that I was in advanced math was something I considered a "fluke." I was the only student invited for grade 11 that was not already in AP English & History classes. This teacher gave me my very first opportunity to prove myself. He ended up not returning my Junior year, and I tried to show every teacher that year that he wasn't wrong to include me because so many doubted me. I could see it in their faces and the way they responded to me when I tried to hide in the back-nervous to be called on. Nervous that I would prove them right and that I didn't belong in the classes with the "smart" kids.

I spent that year fighting to prove I was "smart enough" and "good enough" to be included in these classrooms. Even as I watched my mother get sicker and sicker and eventually pass away in December of my Junior year due to diabetes complications.What I remember most of this time period is my AP History teacher who fought for me to stay in AP classes and gave me time and chances to prove myself. He believed in me and made sure I knew it. He showed compassion when my mother passed away and he even attended her funeral one day after Christmas in the worst ice storm we had that winter. He was also the hardest teacher I ever had-he pushed us all to the highest limits of thinking. I loved his classroom. It was my favorite time of the day. I strive to create an open environment of learning and acceptance as he did. I strive to be the teacher that will push kids past their own learning ability beliefs and yet be compassionate and caring at the same time.

On the other hand, that same year, my AP English teacher couldn't stand me. I know this for a fact. She had a reputation for "grading for favoritism" and she was angry when I would do well. She rolled her eyes any time I contributed in the classroom. I hated being in there, but I kept going and trying. At the end of the year, she looked at me and told me, "You cannot continue with AP English. I do not believe you should have been placed here to begin with. Your grades were up and down all year-especially in December. I will not sign the permission for you to continue next year with AP English." I will never forget looking at her with tear-filled eyes and responding with hatred in my voice that "Maybe my grades dipped in December because my mother died." Her face said it all. She had cared so little she never reached out to my counselors or other teachers, who all knew about my mom, to find out what happened to create a drastic change.She signed my form and never said another word to me for the remaining two weeks in class until the last day of school when she told me to "come visit her any time." I made sure I didn't. I didn't want her "pity" care. I vow to myself every day to NEVER be a teacher who has such a negative impact on a student. This story is important because if it wasn't for her signing that form, I wouldn't have met the one teacher who made me a teacher. The one teacher who inspired me in ways no one else ever did.

As a senior, I was in full rebellion outside of school hours. In school, I was a model student, who worked hard to meet teacher expectations and I wanted to learn. School and reading was my escape from an ugly reality at home. My AP English teacher that year was the best teacher I have ever had. She was fun and caring and strived to reach all of her students. She saw that I was floundering. She saw that I had a desire to do well, but didn't always have the time or ability to do what I knew I should. I stayed late many days with her helping her organize her classroom, or just working on projects when no one else was there. She talked to me. She treated me like a person. She made me feel like I mattered. She allowed me to grieve for my mother. I will never forget crying in her office one day after school when she looked at me and said "It's okay to cry. I am here." She was the first who allowed me to show it. The first person who gave me permission to grieve.Something I never really did at home even. While I will never forget the books I read in her classroom and the units of study on Greek mythology, the thing I remember most is a warm acceptance and love that flowed from her. She is my inspiration every day when I enter a classroom.When I went to visit her at 20 years old, I still had no idea what I was going to do with my life. I was just starting to look into going to college. When I told her this her words reverberated deep in my heart and never let go-"We need more good teachers. Go to school and make a difference like I know you can." And that is exactly what I did. Before she made this declaration I had never thought to be a teacher. She put the thought in my head. And I thank her every day for it.

She was right. I can make a difference. I am making a difference. I choose to teach in urban school districts and Title 1 schools because the children in front of me have trauma at home that leads their lives and the path they are on. I desire to teach them that they CAN be anything they want with hard work and dedication. One thing I constantly tell my students is: "There are many things in the world that you cannot control, but the one thing you can control is education. NO ONE can take what you know away from you. So, fight for it. Learn. Grow. Embrace your education so you can one day make a difference." 

My "Why" isn't typical by any means. But, it belongs to me. It is my story. And this is just the beginning of it. I teach to make a difference. To create an inner belief in every student that they are capable of so much more than they think. To help them see that they can make a difference themselves. The students in my classroom are my future and it is going to be a bright future with them in charge...what is your why?