I was recently talking to a new friend, and I got the impression he didn’t fully understand the love I have for my students. To me, teaching is a calling, much like to the priesthood or convent. I don’t make a lot of money; I don’t get much respect. It is my fault if your child is unsuccessful in school. But there is NO other job I can think of that makes me prouder to claim as my profession. I adore my students – good and bad, smart and simple. They are just as snarky as I am. Many of them overcome huge disadvantages just to come to my classroom every day. I love my students. When I am at school, I think of your child as being my child. I want only the best for them. I want success in whatever form they can achieve it. I have had students go on to be successful in a huge variety of ways, professionally and personally. I love seeing former students. I have cried for them, laughed with them, been angry with them, been proud of them, but above all I have loved them. I may be unhappy with the interactions I have with their parents. I may be disappointed in their performance in my class or other classes.
I want there to be no doubts about how I feel about my job and my children. I may complain about certain aspects of my job, but who doesn’t? When one of my students asked me what I would do if i won a big lottery amount, and my answer is the same. Start my own school. My standards would be high, but my students would reach, and surpass my ideals for them.
