Change of course…

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. I’ve worked hard in my life.  I’ve overcome sickness. I have worked hard at every job I’ve ever had. I have spent countless hours and many sleepless nights studying to be a teacher and all I see is a wall. I don’t see opportunity and I don’t see happiness. I have lost all motivation to be a teacher. The politics involved are a strenuous, infinite cesspool of hate and backstabbing to keep a mediocre job. Not that teachers don’t work hard. Not that being a teacher isn’t rewarding in its own sense. Not that teachers should be looked down upon as if they are an untouchable in a disgusting social caste system. Teachers do great things, and they have the chance to inspire lives that they may not have had the opportunity to touch otherwise. However, I do have a brain and I do have thoughts…

Why should I be working so hard in my youth to feel as if I am going nowhere in my life? Why should I work so hard to feel the sting of unemployment when my students do not score high enough on their state mandated assessments? Why should I work so hard to feel the painful blow of students who just do not care about the countless hours of thought I put into each lesson plan? Into each activity? Into each assignment? The value of education is diminishing just as quickly as the American dollar.  Dropout rates continue to soar as students are continually forced into taking paper and pencil tests that they have no chance to perform well on and in which case they will never have the chance to redeem themselves for their mistakes. People learn through mistakes and students are no different. Yet students are held to impossibly high standards in a failing economy where resources are limited. Consciously, I feel I cannot support the unfair playing field and disadvantages students are thrown into at such a young age. It breaks my heart to know that such expectations placed on students are so infinitely high that first graders have anxiety that puts them at the edge of sanity.

I have the love and support of my family to go on and do bigger and better things with my life.  I want the hard work and countless hours of studying to pay off for me in the end. Not just financially but also for my mind and my soul.  I want to do something I am truly interested in.  Instead, I sit on my couch in the silence of my apartment staring at a binder full of more work and reading.  I stare at the binder in anticipation of the unhappiness I might feel when I start student teaching. The binder is a reminder of the hard work I’ve put in, not because I love what I do, but more as a sickening sense of duty.  My free time is spent reading medical terminology and looking at pictures of the human body instead of thinking about teaching. I feel as if being a teacher will be a pit of never-ending work with little to no payoff in my life. I am seriously considering continuing my education to be a doctor instead. It has been something I’ve worked towards since high school and, in a blind moment of what I thought was love, changed my direction in college to a teacher.  All of this because someone told me they wanted me to be around. I want to know that I can relocate in my life and not have to worry about finding a job anywhere in the country.  I want to know that if I meet someone who I fall in love with, and he has opportunities elsewhere that I can go with him and not think twice. I want to be able to leave and end up wherever without any sense of worry. I’d rather do what I’ve always wanted to do then live the rest of my life wondering, “What if?”

Someone once told me that people become teachers because they feel like they can’t be anything else. Someone once told me that people are teachers because they aren’t smart enough to be the doctors, lawyers, and scientists of the future. I believe that teachers are smart. I believe that people do not go into teaching because they think they aren’t smart enough for anything else. However, in the last two years of school I have come to know numerous people that are in the teaching field simply because it was something easy to get through in college. They believe that being a teacher is easy work and I don’t want to be part of that. I don’t want to constantly have to defend my profession against ignorant people that know nothing of teaching. I don’t want to fight with parents constantly because I am not simply giving their students A’s when the student in question is not putting in the effort. I feel as if my heart lies elsewhere and my intelligence can be put to better use.

I want to be a doctor…even if it takes me forever to get there.

Heather

In nothing do men more nearly approach the gods than in giving health to men. ~Cicero

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~ by huskiepawz07 on January 9, 2011.

One Response to “Change of course…”

  1. Heather, you have my avid support on this! I want to toil away at college, also, in a field I adore, but also requires intensive schooling! I have this dream one day we might be doing this together somewhere, like in N. England. I also have one more reason I think you should not pursue teaching, and that is, because your heart is not in it, children will sense that, and your teaching will not be as impacting, I just don’t feel it is fair to the children in this sense…but that is just my feeling…I have talked to some very intelligent, but resentful teachers, that admitted to me they wanted to be something else. One that is vivid in my mind is a teacher that wanted to be a doctor…and his acrid pain was worsened all the more by the fact his twin brother actually did it. The resentment, the regret…it was excessively obvious in his teaching. I really believe it would be a very dreadful mistake if you continue on with teaching. I realize it is a sacrifice in many senses, especially immediately, but ultimately, becoming a doctor will be the art of your life, an incredible accomplishment that makes your heart sing, and you are made for. I think as a teacher you would be thoroughly miserable…I am praying for you. I love you Heather. Hope to talk more about this soon,

    Sincerely,

    babs

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