Many people change their minds on what their future career choice may be. When you’re younger the options are usually superhero, princess, etc. As you get a little older you move onto somewhat more realistic choices: doctor, astronaut, movie star and the list goes on. However, I’ve known for a very long time that teaching was the way to go. The earliest I can recall considering becoming a teacher was about 8 years old. In terms of pursuing this seriously I remember my eighth grade English teacher which is what sealed the deal on my future major.
I’ve loved English for as long as I can remember. I know many people don’t and I’ll be the first to admit that in elementary school it wasn’t my favorite; however, middle school is when it really begins to become so much more than just the parts of speech and rules of grammar. In eighth grade, my school had just hired a new English teacher. She was young, fresh out of college and it was her first time teaching. I remember thinking nothing more of her, and nothing less as this was just another English class. Read a book, take the test, move on. That’s how English had been the last two years of middle school, so I assumed that that’s just what English was as you got older. Evidently it’s not just read the book, take the test, and move on. At least for me since eighth grade it hasn’t been.
My teacher had such an obvious passion for what she was talking about and I could almost feel it every time I went into her classroom. The books we read we would actually discuss and we would read not only at home, but together in class. Any questions we had, she would always be willing to take time out of the lesson to talk about, even if it meant we’d be behind a day on the schedule, and she would assign essays that didn’t involve just summarizing the story. This was a first as the last two English teachers I had always made us write an essay summarizing the whole thing. My classmates would always complain in the years prior about how boring and repetitive English was, and dreaded going to class. However, our new teacher made us analyze the story, and describe what we got out of it in each essay. As tedious and annoying as this seemed to everyone, I was enlightened, and so were they. English was no longer a dread. Sure, those who disliked the subject didn’t fall in love with it like I did, but they finally understood what they were learning, and why. It made it that much more bearable for them. The essays were challenging at first, but it helped me to discover that not only was there much more to the book, than the written text, but more to life as a whole.
I knew in that year that I wanted to do something involving English in the future, and I knew exactly what. I had my fair share of bad teachers, and it seemed clear that when a good one came along, even those who detest the subject, could learn to tolerate the class and get something out of it. I want to be that person to inspire those who already love English, and help those who struggle with it and find it boring, to at the very least learn something new and interesting. A good teacher can make all the difference in a student’s learning experience. I knew that with my love of English and passion, maybe I could do what my eighth grade English teacher did for me and many others.
Today, at 19 years old, I was accepted into my college’s five-year dual degree program for education, with a concentration in English. I knew it then, and I know it now, and I have never been happier. I hope five years from now to be the one in the classroom, making English just a little bit more enjoyable for students to learn.
