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News at 5-till-11: The Big Realization
Jun. 3rd, 2007 10:55 pmI have made a decision. As decisions go, it's life course-changing. Although it's been brewing subconsciously for a while, I had that moment today when it slowly clicked fully into place, resolving in a total realignment of my mental and emotional landscape. It's left me feeling both exhilarated and scared, in that sort of just-got-on-a-good-rollercoaster way.
I am no longer planning on pursuing my PhD in Anthropology, garnering a tenured position at some prestigious university, and engaging various and sundry graduate students in a variety of cultural discussions while I personally investigate fairy tales, pop culture, and write best-selling books of brain-searing prose and life-altering vision. No. While I still hope to accomplish some of those things in my life (mainly the latter ones), I am now pursuing my PhD in English with a focus on secondary education.
As far back as I can remember, I've always felt a desire to help others. I've just been seeking a way in which to do that, never sure of how to go about the best social outreach. I lost some faith in myself in college: no longer sure of what I could accomplish, or how prepared I really was to do things in the real world. Everything I wanted to do seemed so hard and I came out of college feeling like the work in front of me was insurmountable. I felt defeated, but I tried to cover it up: I was just burned out, I'd been through too much in too short of a time. All I needed was a short break. I didn't believe in myself. I lost my way because I didn't have the faith in myself to keep it.
But then I bore up. I focused on myself for a bit: getting myself more together, teaching myself that I can DO things. I went to another country with next to no preparation: all I had was the support of my best friends and a desire to be alone with myself. A desire to prove to myself that I was capable of realizing my dreams. Not only did I discover that I was capable of making my dreams come true, but I found that I could live in them and beyond them.
And, curiously enough, this whole crazy path has put me right back onto my own path. Wandering, unsure, just taking a break, then going to Japan to do something that seemed easy enough-- teaching conversational English-- has been exactly what I needed. These experiences led to strength and confidence and then to my decision to come back here at a point in time that put me in an American high school, teaching English.
I may have only taught for one year. Consider also that I've taught in an incredibly small private school, which proved a bit schizophrenic in the types of students it gave me. But doing this and talking with other more experienced teachers has opened me up to something I never thought of before.
Teaching anthropology in university... it's easy. I mean, it's hard, but it's easy. It's easy because I'd likely end up mostly with students who want to be there. Of course I wouldn't start out in a prestigious university teaching graduate students; no, I'd be teaching undergraduates and freshmen, I'm sure. Still, most of my students would want to learn (which is fantastic and wonderful). Those who didn't would be gone in a relatively short amount of time.
Those kids who would disappear fall into a variety of categories: maybe they realize that the subject isn't for them and they drop it. Maybe the subject is just an elective and they decide they want to take an easier course. Maybe they decide to take some time off from school. Or maybe they find themselves in college, completely unable to cope with what is demanded of them academically.
It's the students in that last category, as well as the students who are never even able to make it to college that concern me now. What about those students who want to learn but never get the opportunity to do so because their education is inconsistent or their teachers don't care? Who's fighting at the high school level, trying to provide that quality education and make sure that the kids get as far as college? That they get into college and get to find out whether they even want to study anthropology? That they get into college and have the tools to survive there?
The American educational system needs changing. I don't know how yet and I don't know into what, but one of the first step in that change is having revolutionaries in place to help it happen. The only people who will care enough about the kids and what they're being taught are those people like me, committed to a quality education and giving the kids the tools they need to survive life in college and beyond. I have not often been thanked for what I am by the kids themselves, but I've put myself out there as their second family. Education isn't just a job: it isn't something I can just do and then walk away from, untouched and not caring if I've improved my children. Education is a vocation. Education is my vocation.
So that's where I plan to be: one among (hopefully) many teachers, trying to change both lives and the system for the better. It's both an exciting and scary prospect, but I know I'm up to the task.
I am no longer planning on pursuing my PhD in Anthropology, garnering a tenured position at some prestigious university, and engaging various and sundry graduate students in a variety of cultural discussions while I personally investigate fairy tales, pop culture, and write best-selling books of brain-searing prose and life-altering vision. No. While I still hope to accomplish some of those things in my life (mainly the latter ones), I am now pursuing my PhD in English with a focus on secondary education.
As far back as I can remember, I've always felt a desire to help others. I've just been seeking a way in which to do that, never sure of how to go about the best social outreach. I lost some faith in myself in college: no longer sure of what I could accomplish, or how prepared I really was to do things in the real world. Everything I wanted to do seemed so hard and I came out of college feeling like the work in front of me was insurmountable. I felt defeated, but I tried to cover it up: I was just burned out, I'd been through too much in too short of a time. All I needed was a short break. I didn't believe in myself. I lost my way because I didn't have the faith in myself to keep it.
But then I bore up. I focused on myself for a bit: getting myself more together, teaching myself that I can DO things. I went to another country with next to no preparation: all I had was the support of my best friends and a desire to be alone with myself. A desire to prove to myself that I was capable of realizing my dreams. Not only did I discover that I was capable of making my dreams come true, but I found that I could live in them and beyond them.
And, curiously enough, this whole crazy path has put me right back onto my own path. Wandering, unsure, just taking a break, then going to Japan to do something that seemed easy enough-- teaching conversational English-- has been exactly what I needed. These experiences led to strength and confidence and then to my decision to come back here at a point in time that put me in an American high school, teaching English.
I may have only taught for one year. Consider also that I've taught in an incredibly small private school, which proved a bit schizophrenic in the types of students it gave me. But doing this and talking with other more experienced teachers has opened me up to something I never thought of before.
Teaching anthropology in university... it's easy. I mean, it's hard, but it's easy. It's easy because I'd likely end up mostly with students who want to be there. Of course I wouldn't start out in a prestigious university teaching graduate students; no, I'd be teaching undergraduates and freshmen, I'm sure. Still, most of my students would want to learn (which is fantastic and wonderful). Those who didn't would be gone in a relatively short amount of time.
Those kids who would disappear fall into a variety of categories: maybe they realize that the subject isn't for them and they drop it. Maybe the subject is just an elective and they decide they want to take an easier course. Maybe they decide to take some time off from school. Or maybe they find themselves in college, completely unable to cope with what is demanded of them academically.
It's the students in that last category, as well as the students who are never even able to make it to college that concern me now. What about those students who want to learn but never get the opportunity to do so because their education is inconsistent or their teachers don't care? Who's fighting at the high school level, trying to provide that quality education and make sure that the kids get as far as college? That they get into college and get to find out whether they even want to study anthropology? That they get into college and have the tools to survive there?
The American educational system needs changing. I don't know how yet and I don't know into what, but one of the first step in that change is having revolutionaries in place to help it happen. The only people who will care enough about the kids and what they're being taught are those people like me, committed to a quality education and giving the kids the tools they need to survive life in college and beyond. I have not often been thanked for what I am by the kids themselves, but I've put myself out there as their second family. Education isn't just a job: it isn't something I can just do and then walk away from, untouched and not caring if I've improved my children. Education is a vocation. Education is my vocation.
So that's where I plan to be: one among (hopefully) many teachers, trying to change both lives and the system for the better. It's both an exciting and scary prospect, but I know I'm up to the task.