Forward
Thanks for your patience. It's been a while, eh? And I know this is similar to something I wrote before, but what I wrote before was why I'm not teaching right now. This is about the future. As I look ahead, I'm trying to work out why I'm not going back.
I started writing this blog a week ago Friday, and since then, I've just been coming back to it and back to it. I'd even been planning it for weeks before, letting my thoughts simmer. A simmering that overpowered the other dishes that I could have been preparing, as it were. Parts of it have been sitting as a draft since then. I've been trying to figure out how to say what I wanted to say. Not to be dramatic (too late!), but at this point, I'm not sure I'm going to be able. But I'll try. Otherwise, I'm not going to be able to get over it and write about other things.
Chapter 1
Jill's been job hunting lately. Looking through classified ads and Craigslist and calling in favors from friends working at places with openings. She gotten some calls from a couple shady places, a couple of solid places, but she's still looking for something that feels right.
It's a tough gig because just now she's finally looking for her first real job after college, what with feeling loyal to the law office she's been secretarying at for so long, and that she doesn't have a passion for any vocation really, and tied up with all that, she especially feels like her degree didn't prepare her for the job market. Or anything, I guess; she's got this fancy purple and gold Avila-stamped piece of paper that indicates she learned how to survive underneath an oppressively political leadership clique, but not much else. Jill wishes she'd gone through with her language degree, never gone with theater, something she thought she loved, but never did. And now she feels trapped by it. She thrives with deadlines and teachers to please, but has a hard time at self study. Kind of how I have a hard time thinking things through without someone to bounce ideas off of.
Chapter 2
A week ago Thursday (originally, this said, "Last night") we had a night off because we needed one. Normally, we'd be over at the Freak Show praying, but time together is one of those things, for whatever reason, that helps maintain a relationship. Go figure. (Ha ha.) I suppose, alternately, we could be over at the Vicarage watching Lost, but Jill's off the TV for lent, and I don't think I can, in good conscience, go watch TV on a prayer night. Besides, I'm seriously in love with the widescreen HD version of Lost I can grab off the internets later Thursday night and then cuddle up with on fancy family-supplied laptop in an vacant cubicle at the end of a deserted aisle. And since I'm certainly not looking to own a TV that can play the widescreen fanciness any time in the distant future, the download-then-watch-the-next-day model will have to do for now. But I think, Lent or no, we may end up just taking off Thursdays for ourselves. Not like anyone's going to be planning anything out of the ordinary that night. And we need time to be us, says I.
So, anyway, we finally beat X-Men Legends a week ago Thursday, having spent several shots at it over the previous week, what with the last boss being annoying and shielded and all. We used Wolverine alone at the end, with the rest of the X-Men dead, and his X Factor regeneration being the old thing that would allow us to survive long enough. We were both kind of disappointed at the lack of further playability upon beating the game, though. I mean, you level Wolverine up to 35 or whatever, you want to use him at level 35 to replay the game. But, no suck reward. A couple of retro costumes just ain't gonna cut it as a reward for beating your game, Marvel. Get with the program.
Afterwards, we were talking about the job hunt, and Jill asked me what degree I would get if I could go back in time and be who I am now, post-teaching, and choose again. Now, I was pretty non-communicative having just consumed far too much gluten by way of the runzas we had just made (mmm, runzas . . .), so it was hard to come up with something at the time, but I ended up telling her I'd get the same degree. And she said, no, she didn't mean what degree would I get if I could go back in time and do it over; she meant, if I knew everything I knew now, having quit teaching and it being so much of a drain on life, what degree would I get? Funny thing is, I think my answer would be the same, still.
I don't know what else I'd like to get a degree in. Even with all the Bible and Jesus and ministry stuff I'd be interested in studying, to get a degree in that area, I'd have had to go to a Christian college with arbitrary rules for living that I don't think I could have submitted myself to. Don't watch movies! (Unless you do it in the lounge with other folks. Who knows, you might be fiddling with yourself back there in your room. Can't have that, nossir!) No dancing! I mean, like, even over summer break, ya heathens. (Unless it's in the school musical). No holding hands on campus, even if you're married. Can't be tempting the singles, now.
Instead of English, I had thought about teaching Chemistry. Part of the problem is that I'm not nearly precise enough. I know it sometimes seems to people like I have this massive fount of trivial knowledge stored up that I can just dole out at a moment's notice. And while I can draw on that sometimes, half the time I'm just working it out as I go.
Story to illustrate: I got a 32/36 on the ACT. Ten years later, and it obviously doesn't matter, but at the time I was trying to get into colleges. I know that a lot of people would be pretty freakin' delighted with the 32, but I wasn't. Main reason? Here are my scores: 36 in Reading, 35 in applied English, 33 in science. Then we go down the math section and all the little bars are stuck over to the far right side, high percentiles and a' that. Except one. Pre-freakin'-algebra. That's right. I kicked the crap out of algebra and geometry and trig and pre-calc and everything. But pre-algebra tripped me up. That means the basics. The simple stuff. The rote. And that's what I mess up on in general. Things like remembering the negative sign, and how to spell simple words, and the like. Yes, if I'm concentrating and thinking, I can do it usually, but not always. For most things, like I've said, I've got to actually make a conscious decision to engage my brain, otherwise, I don't think very thoroughly. And then, sometimes, I'm just thinking past it. So, yeah, I likely could have taught chemistry, and would have enjoyed it, but grading papers would have been a nightmare. And besides, when it comes down to it, I most like teaching about life, and English is the best place to do that. I would have been a good Chemistry teacher. I could have been a great English teacher.
And what else could I be besides academic Jesus follower or pedegogical chemist? I even enrolled at a school that I couldn't afford with a double major in secondary ed Chem/Bible. Which I couldn't afford. Only after long contemplation did I realize that I'm much much more suited for teaching English.
Chapter 3
So why am I not teaching English? Why not go back to it? Besides, of course, the fact that I am not currently certified, which I could easily remedy by this fall just by taking summer classes at Baker I mean, I have a degree. I love language. I love teaching kids reading, and about life, and about literature, and about writing. I was good at it. I still have students who IM or email me for advice or just to say hi from time to time. Deep down, I wish I was teaching. I'd even not change my degree if I could go back. Why not?
I think I am afraid.
Afraid of what my life would go back to if I taught again, my brain's rpms running in the red seven days a week for nine months, never really resting, never coming down, always tired. Afraid of the early mornings and the late nights I'd lose, needing to be alert and ready to go at 7 in the morning every day, attentive and focused, and yet needing social interaction. Afraid of consistent classroom management, loving the kids, trying to show grace, and also be firm so I can teach them how grow up. Afraid of dealing with parents who care more about their reputation as a parent than actually parenting their kids.
But maybe fear isn't the right word. This post was originally titled "why I'm afraid of teaching." but I had to change it because that's not quite the right word. And as I thought about it, I didn't have nearly enough reasons to justify a whole post of them.
I've been mulling this for a month now, trying to reason out why I don't just get the 8 hours of masters work so I can get re-certified, or heck, just go teach in KCMO without certification. Am I really so afraid of all that stuff up in that paragraph? So afraid of failing? I don't know. that's stuff I'm concerned about, and afraid of, but I don't think any of it's enough to keep me form doing something I'm so good at.
Chapter 4
Ok, ok. I wrong. I think when it comes down to it, everything else aside, I am afraid. Sorry to get all wishy-washy on you. What I'm afraid of is teaching eating my life again. The very best teachers I ever had let it be their life. They were teachers first, and other people second. They graded papers at football games. Let relationships stay secret so as not to hurt their position. gave up their evening and weekends to go on trips or coach or direct. They lived teaching school. And I'm too selfish with the rest of my life to let it go.
Epilogue
Now what? What are my 'action points?' Can I overcome the fear? Should I stay where I am? Should I go looking for a third way? It's all something I need to keep thinking about because while this job is nice, and I just had an interview today to try to get bumped up to the next level, it's not a place I see myself working in ten years. There's no meat to it, if you will. No real substance. And if I'm not here, I've got to be working somewhere.
Or not.
But that's another post for another day.
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5 comments:
I, for one, think you would do exceedingly well in a collegiate classroom. It would seem to me a sort of compromise. It would still be rather consuming (more of substance and being than of time), but it does allow for a significant amount more free time than teaching middle/high school, from what I've heard from my teachers and professors.
there is that.
pros: college freshmen are just as immature and needing of a good guide as high schoolers. plus they're going wild with new freedom; they would not have an insulting comp class; it's more likely to be able to teach creative writing or specific literature; you can be more laid back; you wouldn't have to deal with parents.
cons: you are good with high schoolers specifically, when so many people are not; college politics is worse than high school politics; you may have to waste some time teaching basics b/c they didn't have you as a teacher in high school; you would already need your masters.
teach.
uh, fear is not necessarily a bad thing, i.e. fear of God (respecting His opinion enough you change what you are or aren't doing, etc.), fear of hurting a loved one by doing or saying dumb things, fear of burning your hand enough you don't lay your hand on an open flame for several minutes . . . and so forth.
It seems to me you MIGHT be saying with the use of 'fear', that you fear investing in something with all of your eternal soul that doesn't last for all eternity.
There are at least two ways to go with that: 1) use a vocational investment to provide a platform for eternal things. This requires fighting for margin and family priority, and fighting to do ministry not only when you are exhausted. (by ministry I mean engaging people so they can see Jesus in you and therefore conclude, "Gee, if Jesus can use him, he surely can use/love me!")
It can be done, and in several ways you need to view what you are doing now as that . . . even to the point of viewing the relationships at work as eternal opportunities over time . . . and the fact is that your job gives you more freedom and flexibility to invest in eternal issues than anyone I know other than my own :o).
The down side to #1? Only that you must be vigilant to view all areas of your life from an eternal perspective and not slip into tunnel vision or terminal thinking. II Cor 4 (personal) and 5 (ministry/vocation) as well as Matt 6 are good for this stuff.
So, having mentioned that: The second direction instead of viewing (guarding) vocational immersion as a platform to invest in eternal things is to double dip . . . 2) find an adequate ministry platform that allows you income and doing 80% stuff that impacts eternity.
The down side to #2? People and finances. The ministry is great, but the people are (I love the ministry, it's the people I can't stand) . . . well, people.
Financially you either have to raise your own finances (still better than retail sales or selling insurance . . . WAY better) or you have to have 500 bosses half of whom think you get paid too much (less than a teacher) and half of whom think you don't work enough (basically 'people' again.).
If you can keep from playing mind games with raising money (fear of men, vain imaginations, and telephone constipation) raising support can be much a positive Jesus following thing. It definitely needs a paradigm shift for most Christians, particularly MK's.
Now if you are simply afraid of failure, welcome to the club, although I think more often than not I find my self afraid of succeeding. Things come easily to you, so much so that life's road blocks may result sometimes in you seeing an obstacle more as dead end, when many with less talent and native ability, would simply work harder. I like Edison on being asked about over 2000 failures in finding a suitable filament for his electric light: "I now know over 2000 things that won't work!"
Want to know how to follow Jesus when you are wrestling with Fear of Failure? I'm not sure, but the parable of the talents in Matt 25 has had me chewing for a couple years already on the issue.
Sometimes I think we confuse our emotions with other ones, so we enter situations like this one, recognize that we can not do everything that is required. Then, we consider this a failure and accuse ourselves of being fearful. I think, however, the truth is closer to lament. Something in this world is broken to the point that we cannot be who we are meant to be and we mourn that. As we should. Grieving the losses can only spur us onward.
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