BE Photography: November 2012

I have to confess something...I am starting to fall in love with my students.

PLEASE DO NOT CALL THE POLICE OR THE NEWS THIS IS NOTHING TO PANIC OVER.

This is not gross; it's the normal kind of teacher-love. It's really important for this to happen, at least for me. Did you know (whoever "you" are, dearest reader of this blog) that I have one hundred twenty-eight students to interact with every day? One HUNDRED twenty-eight. And please replace the word "students" with whichever of the following options gives you the shivers the most: humans, teenagers, sinners, children. It is vitally important that I fall in love with them, or I will slowly shrivel into a little ball of tears, fears, and paranoia. These folks are absolutely terrifying.

Last night, I was talking with a coworker who just so happens to also be a very close friend, and I made a comment about how some moments, I just almost don't like my students. He said he was glad he wasn't the only one who felt that way.

People of the world, you have championed teachers. Something like this comes up and you all rally around us. You forward emails with passion begging the world to give us a little more credit. Matt Damon even gets sassy on our behalf. Thanks Matty. Thanks to all of you, seriously. I have never (in my super-long three and a half year career) felt devalued in my profession (Well, that's not true. I did once, but I got so fired up that I really just ended up boosting my own confidence, so, doesn't count.), and that's not something that very many people can say.

But guys, that's so much pressure. Do you know what these teenagers are like?! They're just like you and me! Isn't that disgusting? They're lazy sometimes, mean often, they lie, they sneak around, they work really hard to avoid doing work, and, AND, they have crazy home lives that definitely overflow into their educational careers. They expect me to be happy every day, but not too happy (because that's annoying, obviously), fair, consistent, full of grace, entertaining, and, if they're really being honest, gone a lot. Subs are totally their style. As a human, it is impossible for me to live up to their standards. So they get mad at me and say snarky things...which makes me mad at them. Super awesome. How in the world am I supposed to live up to your expectations of heroism when sometimes I cannot stand the children I'm trying to educate?

Note: I know it's not popular for teachers to say they don't like their kids. But it's totally true sometimes. Parents, you know you don't always like your kids either. Spouses, you don't always like the person you married. Bosses, sometimes your employees drive you nuts. But you still love them, so it's all okay. Bear with me here.

Pull up Google, and type "teachers are." For me, these four options pop up:

teachers are overpaid
teachers are stupid
teachers are heroes
teachers are underpaid

THAT IS EXACTLY HOW I FEEL. I am overpaid when I think about the extreme privilege I have to get to know one hundred twenty-eight of your children, each of whose names were carefully selected by nervous and anxious parents whose lives would never be the same. I am also so stupid to sign up for a job that requires me to be a salesperson, accountant, secretary, manager, counselor, disciplinarian, and who knows what all else that I'm not qualified to do. I am a hero, or so you say, but I definitely don't feel like one ninty-nine percent of the time. I am underpaid when I compare myself to a few other careers that seem, from the outside, to not have quite as much pressure or responsibility.

Sidenote: now type in any single letter after "teachers are," and observe the polarized options that come up. We're loved or hated, y'all. Wazzup.

But, this school year is starting to fall into place. I'm beginning to fall in love with my students. We're past the honeymoon, for sure, and we've gotten through the awkward months of figuring out each other's senses of humor and pet peeves. We've gotten in a few arguments, and I've caught them lying to me. I may or may not have thrown a glue stick one day (Contrary to the rumors, however, I did not throw the glue at a child. That's a really important detail to include. I threw it at a cabinet, to make a loud noise, and it worked. Boom. Like that).

Now we are starting to arrive at kind of love that expects imperfection and celebrates accomplishment, rather than the other way around. I am starting to feel protective over my hard-to-reach kids, and don't want to hear any ill words spoken of them. And, funny, when I see a kid make a basket or score a touchdown, there's a little part of me that says (hopefully not outloud), You're welcome, everyone. He's mine, and I'm sharing him with you. Which is weird...because they're not mine...duh. But hey, I'm a lady. I can't explain why I feel what I feel. I'm from Venus. Or is it Mars? I digress.

We'll keep disagreeing and they'll never quit trying to lie to me, but the good news is, the ups and downs are going to quit hitting extremes soon, and we'll live more in the middle ground, which is a really nice place to be. I have to love them, or they'll never trust me. They have to trust me, or they'll never learn about English or love or the human condition or how to be a good friend. And if they're not learning, I'm not either, and if we're all just stagnant, then all I'm teaching them is that it's okay to be fake, waste time, and pretend that things are important when really they're not. And that is the OPPOSITE of abundant life. So I am very excited about this stage of the year. It's an encouraging time for me. Here's to love.

xoxo Bec