I began teaching in August of 2000. This year marks my 19th year in the classroom. When 24-year-old me stumbled into room 206 at Sacred Heart Cathedral Preparatory in downtown San Francisco, hired to teach chemistry and biology, with no credential, formal training, and only 3 flunked MCATs under my belt, I did not think I would be writing this blog today.
I would be, accordingly to my 24-year-old self, be a practicing physician as my time spent that year in the classroom was only meant to embody the space between my first fourth MCAT (the one I would finally do well on) and my journey to medical school. I didn't know, at the time, that I would absolutely fall in love with the craft of teaching. Head over hells in love.
Today I find myself, for some unknown reason, reflecting deeply on that journey. Why did I fall in love with teaching? Why did I want to be a doctor? Why did I give up on that dream, for another? Why do I still feel like an imposter after 19 years? What if I stuck with it? Did I give up to early? Could I have saved lives? Have I done my students over the years...especially the ones in the first few years, more harm that good? I dunno.
Around 2006, a subtle tipping point occurred. A transition was felt. I became, in my eyes, and the eyes of my colleagues, and my students, a teacher. A teacher! The vocation became who I was...not some strange space between dreams my parents had for me, and those which I struggled to have for myself. I went to graduate school, did research, obtained an EdD, because a teacher of teachers, traveling around the globe, sharing my passion. It just happened.
I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't try to speak on TED, or deliver Keynotes about my teaching journey, or write books, or the myriad of other things I have been blessed to do. So, as I sit here, 19 years later, absolutely in love with the teaching profession, I find myself reflecting on this journey. How did I stumble on such opportunities, and why, to this day, do I adamantly resist, and reject, opportunities to leave the classroom.
I think I have it figured out. It's not the kids, as much as I love them. It's not the colleagues, as much as they inspire me. It's not the assessments, or scores, or summers off. It's not the feeling I get when I tell somebody "I'm a teacher..." and their face lights up with respect. It's one thing, and one thing only: URGENCY.
It's the feeling I get when I create a lesson, that must be delivered the next day. The urgency of pedagogy. The urgency that comes along with deadlines, and the art of crappy lessons, great lessons, and all things in between that emerge when the bell rings, my mind opens, and I create. Not for some day off in the future when I will deliver a keynote, or share a story about a lesson I plan to deliver.
The urgency associated with the next day. 12 hours later when they will walk in the room, and look at me with a stare that embodies the term "Go ahead dude...try and teach me.". I love that urgency...that creativity...that feeling. I think, for what its worth, this sense of urgency is why I have been blessed with the ability to share my story with others...Teacher can relate to this. We gravitate toward ideas. We feel the urgency. We are artists every freaking day. We empathize with one another.
What a blessing.