Are you a “corps member” or “teacher?”
(Photo credit: Stephen Dagnall)
The other day, upon the onset of winter break (thank god), as I was boarding my plane home someone in line at security asked me what I do. I told him I was a first year Teach For America corps member—not that I was a teacher.
Why did I say this? I don’t know. I wasn’t ashamed or anything, and I wasn’t particularly proud to be representing Teach For America, touting the prestige. I was just being honest. I’m not a teacher because I have no idea what I am. All I know is that I’m 23 years old, and I harbor ambitions that extend further than the classroom.
Should I feel bad about that? Afterall, my inability to truly own my role as a teacher, I think, is one factor in why I’m still not a very good one. I’ll explain.I’ve pretty much always been a hard worker. But teaching is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I work harder at it than I ever did in the batting cages or in economics class. But for those pursuits I genuinely identified myself as a ballplayer, or as a student, accordingly. I think that’s why I was good, too. And see, those in the field of education who I’ve worked with that are excellent at their craft—excellent in that almost existential, Aristotle sort of way—all identify themselves as teachers. I do not, and, no surprise, I pale in comparison to those capital T Teachers. I was a much better baseball player.
But still, there is something different for those teachers, the ones changing lives every day.These excellent-educators are, well, excellent, I think, because they embrace their role, their responsibility. Deep down, I know I won’t realize this sort of “master-status”—or even, really, reach the level of ability I know I need to reach in order to be an effective teacher—until I embrace teaching as an integral part of who and what I am. I think. No, I know. I know.
I know.
I’m not entirely sure leaving the classroom after your commitment should be a source of guilt for corps members. A recent Wall Street Journal article just chronicled the admirable nature of corps members who were up front about their desire to leave the corps after their commitment. So that seems fine—not giving your all for the two years you’re in the corps, isn’t. The problem is, I can’t help but worry that giving my all demands, at least temporarily, the adoption of an identity that doesn’t exactly fit, an acceptance of a reality I didn’t exactly plan for. Committing to teach, or so I told my mother before flying back to New Orleans (love you, mom), is different than committing to work as an analyst or a consultant, like most of my friends did after college.
How can you give 100% of yourself now, here, when a percentage of your attention is focused on something further away?
Education has not yet revealed itself as my calling or anything like that. I like my job and I love the kids I work with and I’m proud of what I do and I want to work hard. But no light-bulb flash of realization that in teaching, I’ve found my purpose. Does that sort of thing simply take more time? Should I feel bad about it? Will I wake up one day and realize that this is actually who I am? That this is what I want to do?
And if I don’t, does that invalidate the work I’m doing now?
Dan this is such a great post and an important question. I have had this conversation with my friends (both in and outside of) the Memphis Corps.
Thanks, Ryan, and sorry for the tardiness of my reply!
I would add that most young analysts and consultants have absolutely no idea if their current title is also their “calling,” let alone their true desired/impassioned career path. Some analysts (myself included) would say that joining some big firm in the meat grinder that is Corporate America is the first step of selling out. A creativity-killing move fueled by the necessity to pay off student loan debt and have health insurance. The author above seems to have gone the opposite route—he took the plunge, unknowing what the experience would hold. It also seems that Mr. Moore’s personal inquisition and struggle only further evidences his quest towards personal enlightenment. The idea of giving yourself 100% to something sounds great in theory, but is it actually possible in real life? Each day people are pulled in a multitude of directions; who is to say which direction is correct? Who is to say being pulled in a different direction is wrong? Teach for America is dominated by young adults from different backgrounds, the majority of whom probably did not think they would become teachers. I would even go so far as to say that the majority of these young educators move on from teaching after their commitment is fulfilled. I guess my point here is: having the inner struggle, feeling guilty at times, and even having thoughts of regret is at the very least normal, if not entirely necessary. These feelings are had by those who critically think, and those who critically think are those that I want teaching or nation’s youth, even if it is just for two years.
Even if you are ‘just an analyst’ I sincerely appreciate your response. Interesting and provoking. Thanks analyst.
As a 1st year Teach for Malaysia fellow, all I can say is that I FEEL YOU. You have put into words exactly what I feel every single day! :S
Good luck!
However, I would like to say that in answer to your question: no, it does not invalidate the work you are currently doing because there is a purpose for everything we do and everything that happens in life…even though it might not be entirely clear at that point in time.
Sarah, I’m glad I could articulate this, then! I definitely appreciate your affirmation – it invigorates my faith. I hope teaching life is good in Malaysia (really cool that you’re out there). Thanks for the comment.