This video popped up on my Newsfeed today. Give it a watch. It’s pretty powerful.
What would you write on the board?
Everything I’d write has to do with my career. It’s hard to call them regrets, because I wouldn’t change any of the decisions I’ve made. I don’t regret what I did in supporting my husband. I love where we are now, and so much of that is because of the sacrifices we’ve both made over the years. But I do wish that I’d been able to do some things that just haven’t worked out for me yet.
I have a lot of teacher friends. Not colleagues or coworkers – friends. I hang out with them on weekends and watch Packers games with them. Some are related to me, some by blood and others by marriage, so we share in family gatherings. And, yeah, we’re Facebook friends. Like anyone, they post about the joys and frustrations of their jobs occasionally (within reason – no name dropping or boss bashing). And some of these friends teach at the college level.
This post is directed at my younger readers – the teens who are not yet in college and the young adults making their way through higher education now. Kids, when I say I know what you need to do to get ready for college, it’s not just because I’ve been there before. I may also be friends with your future professors. They tell me things – things that probably should be common sense, but apparently isn’t since they’re dealing with this stuff on a daily basis. So consider me your inside source on college professors and take this well-meaning advice, both for your sake and theirs. Keep reading!
I got a call from a teacher friend yesterday. She calls a lot, actually. She likes to use me as a sounding board as she plans out her curriculum and lesson plans. Yesterday she was formulating a plan for an independent reading project, but over the years and countless phone hours we’ve hashed through job applications, challenging students, and administration difficulties as well as mountains of curriculum ideas. Truthfully, she’s very good at her job, so my end of the conversation usually ends up sounding like various forms of the phrase, “yeah, that sounds good.” Occasionally I offer ideas or raise a concern or two, but mostly, I think she just needs to talk through whatever it is that she’s planning, and I’m an understanding ear willing to listen.
I like it. I feel like it keeps me fresh, keeps my brain engaged in a field that could have easily passed me by time after time. It’s funny when I compare our career trajectories, though. We like to say we’ve had some very similar experiences. We met in college and went through our first year teaching at the same time. A few years later we found ourselves job hunting again at the same time. We’ve both worked in an urban demographic for a year, and both left knowing that it wasn’t the right place for us. We have a similar way of relating to teenagers, both enjoy teaching literature more than writing, and share many pedagogical perspectives.
I went into “application mode” yesterday. It’s a weird mental zone teachers must enter to fill out their pages and pages of job applications. Adults in other professions, give me some perspective. Do job applications in other fields come with an average of 12 essay questions attached? (That’s a literal number, not an exaggeration.) In addition to the standard questions about training, work history, and individual strengths and weaknesses, do you have to elaborate on things like educational philosophies, disciplinary and instructional strategies, and hypothetical interpersonal situations for pages at a time? Or are teachers alone in this? And of course, the questions are just different enough that I can’t simply copy and paste answers between one application and another. I shudder to think of the number of hours of my life I’ve spent simply on job application essay questions.
I should write something.
That thought has passed through my head multiple times over the past few *ahem* months since my last update. I’ve tried a few times. I came close to a complete post once, but nothing ever came to fruition. And yet, I still keep getting new followers and new comments on old posts, constant reminders that my blog isn’t dead yet, and I really should do something to make sure it stays that way. So here I am.
While I haven’t been writing about it, my career has been on my mind a lot lately. Gwen is over three months old. If I’d had a job this year, I’d be done with maternity leave by now. I’d be back in the classroom instead of home with her, watching her grow and change with each new day. I’m so glad I have this time with her.
And, if I’m honest, I’m glad I’ve had this time, period. I think back to my mental state this time last year. I was feeling the culmination of six years of sacrifice, heartache, and uncertainty – and I was a mess. I kept that mess pretty well hidden most of the time. I projected the happy, confident teacher persona that carried me so well through so many other jobs and schools. I clung to the “just keep moving forward” focus that had been my defense mechanism for so many years.
I had a chance to catch up with a high school friend yesterday. What started as a few random texts and an accidental butt-dial turned into an hour-long conversation catching up on major life events and commiserating about the challenges of adult life. At one point she commented on how nice it was that, even though we haven’t talked in years, we could still be on the same page and vent about similar topics. The mark of a true friendship, right?
(For instance, here’s one complaint we had in common: Unless she brings up the topic first, please don’t ever ask a married-but-childless woman if/when she’s planning on having kids. While the question seems innocent enough, the answer is often far too private and intimate for casual conversation. It opens the door to personal, financial, and medical issues – all of which are emotionally charged topics. After fielding that question for seven years myself, I more than understand my friend’s frustrations. Dear world, unless we broach the topic first, please stop putting us through those awkward conversations! OK, sidebar rant complete.)
After we finished comparing stories of uncomfortable conversations about family plans, the topic shifted to the working world. Keep reading!
A friend recently sent me a book recommendation with the comment that she thought of me when she read it because she knew I had “a passion for intentional adulthood.” I don’t think I’ve ever used that exact term before, but it is a good description. Growing up doesn’t just happen. Careers, education, and success don’t accidentally appear in someone’s life – at some point people need to act, choose, and pursue the kind of lives they want. Those words all imply intentionality. Yes, opportunities come unexpectedly, and new interests surprise us sometimes, but only if we’re out living life instead of sitting back waiting for it to happen.
Passive education doesn’t even look realistic. (Image credit: Wikipedia)
For students, this means engaging in active learning and taking personal responsibility in their education and maturation. For adults, this means pursuing a goal with purpose. We can and should be intentional in our careers, communities, and families. Make the decision to achieve something, and then take the steps necessary to make it happen.
However, the problem with intentional living is that we can’t do it in a vacuum. We live among other people, and what they do impacts our lives, too. What happens when life isn’t all smooth sailing? Keep reading!
It’s taken me a while to figure out that “back-to-school” time does bring changes for me this year, despite my lack of employment. Initially, I watched the hype unfold with a sense of detachment. I walked past sale racks of notebooks and pens without feeling the urge to walk through and pick out fun new stuff. My friends went to their meetings, posted pictures of classrooms on Facebook, and even asked my advice on curriculum, but none of it seemed to really apply to me. It wasn’t until I drove past a school building and saw kids and parents streaming in and out of it that I was jolted into reality.
My plan is to sub this year. It’s my fallback when I don’t have other consistent employment, and all-in-all, I don’t hate it. It gets me into the classroom, spending time with teenagers, using the skills that make me good at what I do. Sometimes it leads to connections and more long-term work, too. And of course, subbing leads to stories that make good blog posts. 🙂
Life is full of change, completions and beginnings, starting over and moving on. I attended a college graduation party this weekend. We had senior awards chapel this morning in school, and in a little over a week, those seniors will graduate high school. This is the time of year that we celebrate all that. This is the time of year that we acknowledge achievements and impart advice for the next step.
So here’s what I’ve learned:
Life comes in seasons. There will always be change. There will always be goodbyes, transitions, and new starts. I’ll admit that my life is an extreme example of this, but even without constantly relocating, life will never stay exactly as it is now. And that’s OK.
It’s teacher appreciation week, when excess (and excellent) food appears in the teacher’s lounge and Chipotle offers a free burrito to anyone with a valid teaching ID. It’s a good week. Some of the parents at my school are ordering Chinese for the whole staff tomorrow, and yesterday a stack of papers covered in notes from my students appeared in my school mailbox. It’s nice to be appreciated.
In the spirit of teacher appreciation week, I want to take a moment to reflect on the individuals who constantly inspire me to be a better teacher. I am surrounded by amazing, quality teachers. Yes, I have seen my share of less-than-inspiring teachers, too, but I am honestly awed by the caliber of individuals that are also in this field with me.