Maybe it's silly to be inspired by a movie. Maybe not. But ever since I saw The Dead Poet's Society, I never looked at teaching in the same way. I first saw the film in 9th grade. At that point, I still had no desire at all to be a teacher. The closest I ever came to wanting to be a teacher was to be a college professor, a job where research and writing are almost just as or more emphasized than classroom teaching and student advising. But a pragmatic English teacher told me, my 10th grade year, that if I wanted to be a writer, "I better look for another job."
At the time, I was offended and disheartened by her words. I thought she meant them as a slight on my abilities, but I understand now that she was just speaking realistically. Most writers don't start out as poets or freelancers or novelists, but take to the pen while working another job. That got me thinking. I'd never really thought about another job. I just wanted to write, see my name on the cover of a novel. So throughout high school, my objective was to explore quote "real jobs" and pick one so that I could eat and have a house while I tried to break into the publishing world.
But in 11th grade, I had my first experience with great teaching. Like Mr. Keating of the Dead Poet's Society, Ms. A was an English teacher, passionate about poetry and literature, but just as passionate about students. When I shuffled into her AP English course my junior year of high school, I was riddled with insecurity about my writing.
Months before, I had recieved a rejection letter from the South Carolina Governor's School of the Arts. I had applied to their Creative Writing program while my best friend had applied for Visual Art. She was accepted; I was not. For a long time, this hovered over my head, made me insecure about my writing, my ambitions, my future. Now I can talk about that period of my life with a smile, without a wince or without avoiding eye contact.
Ms. A encouraged me from the beginning. The first writing assignment I did for her wasn't great, but she wrote all over it, giving me suggestions, praising what I did well and offering tips for improvement. The next one I turned in recieved a perfect score, much to my surprise. She asked us to self-evaluate our work. When she read my critique, she wrote that I was much too hard on myself.
Ms. A recognized my lack of confidence, even though I was one of over a hundred students on her roster. And she did all that she could to build it back up.
Starting in elementary school, schools teach you to explore career options so you can be a productive member of society. Perhaps getting a job is over-emphasized, but that's how it is. They start give you career quizzes in grade school, so you can get an idea of what your skills are, what career you might enjoy the most. Every test I took told me I should be a teacher, but I always waved it off.
It was until I met a really great teacher who changed my life, that I really understood the job. That I finally acknowledged the call. I was 18 when I decided I wanted to teach, do for students what Ms. A did for me. I don't pretend to have misconceptions about it. I'll be paid enough money to live just above the poverty line and gain little respect for pursuing a low-salary, if noble, career. I've already begun to feel the stereotypes. I'm in the Honors College at my school, where there is little respect for the School of Education. My dad was skeptical at first, too. There's such a stigma out there for the quote "best and the brightest" to go into teaching, which just blows my mind. Would you rather less motivated, less passionate, less knowledgeable teachers craft the next generation?
"You could do anything, Hillary," my father told me when I first approached him. "Are you sure you want to teach?"
I wasn't sure at the beginning; I'm sure now. If I can do what Mr. Keating did for Todd, what Ms. A did for me, for even one student, than I will feel fulfilled. If I can make students laugh, make them push themselves to succeed, make them explore their imagination, see beyond the words on the page of a textbook, then I can do a great thing.
Besides, what other job leaves open weekends, evenings, and two and a half months in the summer to write the next Great American Novel? ;-)
At the time, I was offended and disheartened by her words. I thought she meant them as a slight on my abilities, but I understand now that she was just speaking realistically. Most writers don't start out as poets or freelancers or novelists, but take to the pen while working another job. That got me thinking. I'd never really thought about another job. I just wanted to write, see my name on the cover of a novel. So throughout high school, my objective was to explore quote "real jobs" and pick one so that I could eat and have a house while I tried to break into the publishing world.
But in 11th grade, I had my first experience with great teaching. Like Mr. Keating of the Dead Poet's Society, Ms. A was an English teacher, passionate about poetry and literature, but just as passionate about students. When I shuffled into her AP English course my junior year of high school, I was riddled with insecurity about my writing.
Months before, I had recieved a rejection letter from the South Carolina Governor's School of the Arts. I had applied to their Creative Writing program while my best friend had applied for Visual Art. She was accepted; I was not. For a long time, this hovered over my head, made me insecure about my writing, my ambitions, my future. Now I can talk about that period of my life with a smile, without a wince or without avoiding eye contact.
Ms. A encouraged me from the beginning. The first writing assignment I did for her wasn't great, but she wrote all over it, giving me suggestions, praising what I did well and offering tips for improvement. The next one I turned in recieved a perfect score, much to my surprise. She asked us to self-evaluate our work. When she read my critique, she wrote that I was much too hard on myself.
Ms. A recognized my lack of confidence, even though I was one of over a hundred students on her roster. And she did all that she could to build it back up.
Starting in elementary school, schools teach you to explore career options so you can be a productive member of society. Perhaps getting a job is over-emphasized, but that's how it is. They start give you career quizzes in grade school, so you can get an idea of what your skills are, what career you might enjoy the most. Every test I took told me I should be a teacher, but I always waved it off.
It was until I met a really great teacher who changed my life, that I really understood the job. That I finally acknowledged the call. I was 18 when I decided I wanted to teach, do for students what Ms. A did for me. I don't pretend to have misconceptions about it. I'll be paid enough money to live just above the poverty line and gain little respect for pursuing a low-salary, if noble, career. I've already begun to feel the stereotypes. I'm in the Honors College at my school, where there is little respect for the School of Education. My dad was skeptical at first, too. There's such a stigma out there for the quote "best and the brightest" to go into teaching, which just blows my mind. Would you rather less motivated, less passionate, less knowledgeable teachers craft the next generation?
"You could do anything, Hillary," my father told me when I first approached him. "Are you sure you want to teach?"
I wasn't sure at the beginning; I'm sure now. If I can do what Mr. Keating did for Todd, what Ms. A did for me, for even one student, than I will feel fulfilled. If I can make students laugh, make them push themselves to succeed, make them explore their imagination, see beyond the words on the page of a textbook, then I can do a great thing.
Besides, what other job leaves open weekends, evenings, and two and a half months in the summer to write the next Great American Novel? ;-)
