The other day I was invited to the 20 year reunion of the 1997 class of St John’s College. It was fascinating to hear what they remembered and what I remembered. This started me thinking once again about the incredible privilege and responsibility it is to be a teacher.
My subject was mainly Biology. As I have spoken to past pupils from the decades, there are a few who remember and who were inspired by the academic work done. Largely however, what is remembered are the words of encouragement, acts of compassion, and the time spent without expectation of reward. Think of the teachers you remember fondly and you will agree, I am sure.
Would you encourage your daughter to become a teacher?
The life of a teacher can be incredibly demanding, especially today. This is evident (world-wide) in the extent to which teachers move from the profession before five years is up. Despite relatively low salaries compared to the private sector, money in itself is not the critical issue for most. The reason we choose teaching (or more accurately are called to teaching) is to make a difference to young people’s lives and to contribute to society. With a minimum of four years professional training, and some with many years of experience, the lack of respect for teachers by society in general and many parents in particular is astonishing.
In the past, I am talking perhaps 40 years ago, family structures were relatively intact, and belonging to community structures such as churches was normal. Today the school plays the role of parent, family, church and community, struggling to give individuals that critical sense of belonging that makes one feel whole and alive. In the world of fractured family, it is the school which provides normality, constancy and a place of hope. These factors make the profession even more important than ever.
Would you encourage your daughter to become a teacher?
You must master your subject, and the pedagogy around it. You must cope with the increasing demands of assessment of every sort, and know how to set tests and assignments which challenge the clever, and encourage the weak. Your evenings and weekends, half terms and even holidays have been in training and learning, accompanying, and preparation, marking and more marking. You must be a consummate public relations expert as you deal with the entitlement, aspirations and ignorance of difficult parents (they are few, but always present.) You must offer more than just your subject, be an IT expert, never have a bad day, and hold yourself responsible for any set back, because today it is rarely the pupil’s fault.
Would you encourage your daughter to become a teacher?
You must watch as year by year matrics leave after being in your class for five years, without so much as a thank you, despite the tears you have shed for and with them, and the joy you have celebrated with them. You have encouraged them to be adults, while many have not been taught to respect adults. You have encouraged them to overcome obstacles when many parents have spent their life making sure their child does not encounter any opposition at all. You have reprimanded and praised, punished and rewarded, and then they simply walk away at the end of the year without even a “thank you.”
Would you encourage your daughter to become a teacher?
You have coached sports you had to learn and have been abused by parents who try to live their failed sport lives out in their children. You have spent late cold nights at plays and performances and then waited while parents finish their dinner before picking their child up. You have held lessons after school and on weekends and half terms without payment. You have had to deal with gossip and innuendo from the car park brigade, and shrugged it off. You have raised your voice once in class and reprimanded an offender only to be accused within minutes by a mother of shouting at and belittling her child.
Would you encourage our daughter to become a teacher?
Please do.
For nothing can beat the exhilaration of knowing twenty years later that the hour spent with a recalcitrant adolescent was a turning point in his life; that the bird watching field trip inspired a man to become chairman of Bird Life South Africa, that a biology lesson sparked a love of conservation in a lecturer at St Andrew’s in Edinburgh. Nothing can replace seeing a successful man or woman emerge, and knowing you played a part.
Please do.
For nothing can beat the feeling of the “aha” moment as a concept falls into place, or a student moves from one level to another, as shining eyes replace troubled faces. We are in it to make a difference. And we do.
Even if our beloved pupils only realise it 20 years later……that is reward enough.
There is no better job than being a teacher.
Belonging, purpose and hope 