For my comrade-in-arms

It is the end of the academic year, and the corridors of the schools have fallen quiet.  The loud and familiar noise I am used to have faded.  While I seem to be more busy than usual the past two weeks, the silence is a reprieve.

It is a time to take stock of what has been done in 09...both the good and the bad.
It is also the moments when I ponder on the direction to take.
We learn from our mistakes and move on.

I know I have made a promise to stay.  And I will hold on to that promise.
Once I have fulfuilled my obligations, I will go, as quietly as I can.

But the promises I made are not the only things that is keeping me sane.
I think, my sentiments are best expressed to the prose below.

WHAT TEACHERS MAKE

by: Taylor Mali


The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life.
One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education.

He says the problem with teachers is, "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"

He reminds the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about teachers:
"Those who can, do; those who can't, teach."

I decided to bite my tongue instead of his and resisted the temptation to remind the other dinner guests
that it's also true what they say about lawyers. Because we're eating, after all, and this is polite company.

"I mean, you¹re a teacher, Taylor," he says.  "Be honest. What do you make?"
And I wish he hadn't done that ( to be honest) because, you see, I have a policy about honesty and ass-kicking:
If you ask for it, I have to let you have it.

"You want to know what I make?"

"I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional medal of honor and an A- feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time with anything less than your very best."

"I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall in absolute silence.
No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won't I let you get a drink of water?
Because you're not thirsty, you're bored, that's why."

"I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:  I hope I haven't called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today.
Billy said, "Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don't you?"
And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen."

"I make parents see their children for who they are and what they can be."

"You want to know what I make?"


I make kids wonder,


I make them question.


I make them criticize.


I make them apologize and mean it.


I make them write, write, write.


And then I make them read.


I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely


beautiful over and over and over again until they will never misspell


either one of those words again.


I make them show all their work in math.


And hide it on their final drafts in English.



I make them understand that if you got the brains
then you follow your heart
and if someone ever tries to judge you by what you make,
you pay them no attention

Let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:

I make a goddamn difference!
What about you?


Well put, Taylor Mali.

There will always times when my friends and I question ourselves why we stay in the profession. For sure, it is not about the money. 
So perhaps the answers lie in what instrinsically motivates us...and that is...the kids.