As much as kids complain about going to school, they spend more than a decade of their lives in some type of classroom. And every classroom— filled with chaos, laughter, and lessons— is watched over by a person with special gifts, motivation, and dedication: a teacher.
I had two very different grade school and high school experiences. My small, parochial grade school had roughly a 10-to-1 student-teacher ratio, while my large, public high school’s classes had about 25 students each. Obviously with such personal, intimate classroom settings, I grew close to many of my grade school teachers. They watched me grow from a timid and terrified preschooler to a still reserved yet confident teenager. They knew my family, they understood my life story. They identified all of my strengths, and even recognized my weaknesses. They cared so deeply for each of their students and really made a huge impact on our childhoods. When I lost my great-grandmothers during middle school, my teachers always took time to ask if I was okay and were understanding if sometimes my emotions overwhelmed me. The end of each school year came with watery eyes as the teachers said their goodbyes, and graduation brought back many bittersweet memories of all the wonderful teachers that had impacted us over the years.
As I transitioned into that public high school with nearly 3,000 students, I was warned that my experience would not be the same. My teachers wouldn’t be as accessible or caring, especially since they had so many other students to take care of. So I went in to my first week of classes with that mentality. I have always been a quiet kid, so part of me expected that the teachers wouldn’t even learn my name. But I have to say, this was not my experience whatsoever. I was blessed with so many wonderful teachers throughout high school. They took time out of their days to make sure we understood the material, whether that meant extra help outside of class or answering questions over email in the middle of the night. When tragedy struck my family during my junior year, I’ll never forget how surprised I was when one of my teachers—who, by the way, had 50 other students in her classroom— approached me to offer her condolences and a chocolate bar. Senior year, as another transition to college arose, my teachers put so much time and effort into writing letters of recommendation for all of their students. I was amazed at how much they could write about just one out of the hundreds of students they have taught over the years.
I have since realized that a teacher’s effectiveness and care do not depend on the size of his classroom. Whether they teach 100 kids each year or 10 kids each year, teachers have a way of connecting to their students. I hear so many students say “Man, Mrs. ____, just doesn’t get it. She hands out assignment after assignment and her exams are a joke. She doesn’t care about us at all.” I have to admit, I am guilty of saying something along those lines occasionally. But I guess I am now a little bit wiser and more understanding, because I realize I was completely wrong. Teachers do understand. They do care. Probably more than their students could ever imagine.
Part of being a teacher is having to play the bad guy. Teachers have to push their students beyond their comfort zones despite the resistance and complaints. They fight for their students constantly, advocating in their best interests. And most of the time, they do not get thanked. They are only seen as the people who hand out grades, who determine a student’s future, who have to judge a student’s capabilities and performance. This cannot be an easy job. No teacher wants his student to struggle. But there is an important difference between struggle and suffer. If student’s aren’t challenged, they will never progress, and teachers are responsible for providing these challenges and the tools to overcome them.
In reality, a teacher’s job is to help others succeed. They selflessly give their time, concern, and efforts to help their students grow in whatever way they can, not just academically. They spend countless hours preparing for lessons that are typically met with groans and complaints. They try to teach material in a variety of ways, yet often they take the blame when a student struggles to understand. They must have the patience and enthusiasm necessary to teach individuals that don’t want to learn, to listen, or to apply themselves. Without teachers, no one would know how to perform their job, whatever it may be. Our society would be illiterate, unproductive, and uncivilized, yet teaching is one of the most unappreciated occupations in society. When our government’s finances struggle, our schools and teachers are the first to take hits. Yet teachers continue on, because they know their own importance in the grand scheme of things.
The influence my teachers impressed onto me, both academically, morally, and emotionally, is the reason that one day I want to teach. Rather than having the summers off, the best part of teaching must be to watch where students end up. A teacher never wishes anything but the best for their students, and hopefully they know that even if it goes unspoken, the impact that they have on their students lasts forever. I know that I remember each of my teachers for a variety of reasons, and beyond gaining intelligence, they taught me lessons in resilience, empathy, and honesty. Teachers don’t just set examples of material in the classroom, but examples of virtuous, meaningful lives.
