Why Teach (for America and Bulgaria)?

I'm writing this post for selfish reasons. More than anything, I want something I can look back on when I'm frustrated at a lesson that didn't go as planned, or when I'm mad at the copy machine or some other similarly life-ending tragedy.

If you had told me three years ago at Georgetown that I'd be a teacher (in Las Vegas and Bulgaria, of all places), I would have laughed you out of my Lau cubicle and thrown an overly-highlighted politics textbook at you. The thought of willingly re-entering a school simply would not have crossed my mind. School was something I survived. Got through. Finished.

So where did Teach for America (more on my love-hate relationship with TFA below) come into play? I was a college senior searching for any and every job that both paid an actual salary and did not require 3-5 years experience for an entry-level position. I looked at paralegal jobs in the DC area and interviewed at several firms, knowing that my position would consist primarily of fetching coffee, making copies, and earning a wage that would barely pay for a decent toilet in DC's real estate market. More than anything, I knew that a paralegal position would hardly be making a difference.

TFA came into my field of vision because my sister was a corps member in Texas, and I'd had a positive experience visiting her classroom, aside from inadvertently slamming a child's fingers in the door. I saw that her kids respected her, that she loved her job, and that her work there was having a direct and tangible effect for the better.

Now, a bit on TFA and my problems with the organization. I had no business or experience being a teacher. Who was I to think that I could come in, undergo 5 weeks of training, and jump into a classroom? Fortunately, it worked, but I think that I was lucky. I saw too many other corps members struggle in the classroom, some of whom left the profession before the first semester ended. I do think that TFA is taking a step in the right direction by considering a three-year program that involves starting training in the senior year of college.

While I'm on the subject, I also think that Teach for America overextends itself with good intentions but ultimately to the detriment of students. TFA's Institute jumps straight into telling you how to be "transformational" without explaining how to get students to actually show up in your classroom on time or not sharpen their pencils while you're speaking. In the same vein, TFA along with the Common Core standards, want students to learn XYZ when they haven't learned ABC.

To use a track-and-field analogy, it would be like having a kid run high hurdles on the first day of practice. That athlete, save a prodigy or two, would slam herself into the hurdles and say "Screw it. I'll run distance." Instead, the coach should first instruct her on hurdling form, then move her up to the low hurdles before finally approaching the high ones. (I don't know if this is how hurdle training actually works. Appropriately, I ran distance.)

Problems with Teach for America aside, I teach because it allows me to step out of my comfort zone and be selfless. My career track before was selfish; how can I make the most money by putting in the least amount of work? How can I set myself up for success (as measured by money)? I wanted to be comfortable and rich.

Teaching affords you neither of those.

Stepping into the classroom and teaching blew the walls out of my comfort zone. I hate public speaking. Hearing the bell ring and facing a classroom of 35 twelve-year olds was something out of a nightmare for me, but I survived and ultimately found myself completely at ease in the classroom. So at ease that I wore a banana costume and used a scooter for transportation for an entire day because my kids scored high enough on their unit test.

More importantly than the selfish reason of personal growth, teaching allows me to be selfless. It forces me to be selfless, in fact. Show me a selfish teacher, and I'll show you someone who's both an ineffective and miserable teacher. The essence of the profession is helping others. While you do have to learn to strike a balance and take care of yourself (regularly showering and everything!), the job really forces me to think outside the confines of my own perspective. Who am I to think that I'm having a bad day when a student is crying to me that his dad has been deported? Who am I to half-ass a lesson plan when a kid's English education depends on me committing myself to it? The job requires that you push aside selfishness and focus on the perspective of others which is, selfishly, to the betterment of any person.

Now my ramblings may seem to come to a screeching halt when I admit that I won't be a teacher forever; I do have other career goals. My time as a teacher has, thus far, radically altered those career goals, however. I will never be happy in a career that does not further some sort of good in society (I'll be sure to re-read the above sentence several times when deciding what to do in the future). Teaching has implanted within me a sort-of barometer that allows me to gauge whether what I'm doing (or want to do) is right. While I could spend the rest of my life trying to find a job that is as rewarding and beneficial to myself and others, I now know that I won't be satisfied in a career that involves, say, helping this and that company make more money. I won't be happy in a career that doesn't both push me out of my selfish comfort zone and allow me to feel good about what I do on a daily basis.

I teach because I get to have that phone conversation with A.H.'s mom where she says "I can't get her to talk at dinner because she's reading another book."

I teach because I get to see students start planning and writing their own books, sharing their new chapters with me.

I teach because I get to see a student move from the level of "I correctly bubbled in my name, and that's all I'll do thank you very much" to meeting state standards within one year.

But more than anything, I teach because it allows me to wear a banana suit and ride a miniature scooter all day.