I am ashamed today by my past narrow-mindedness. And just what a cock-rod attitude I had. I stand at this moment in complete awe of teachers. And this I say with no patronising undertone either. My respect applies to all teachers. Whether they teach 3 year olds. Or 13 year olds. It is a noble profession. And it’s reserved for the most gifted and talented of our humankind.
How do I know this? Well I now spend afternoons with my son at our kitchen table working out on his fingers how to add 5 and 3, the process of subtraction, how to count backwards from 20. We learn words like “c-o-m-e” and “b-y” and “d-o” for his weekly spelling test… conquering the ’red’ words, the bastardly tricky words you can’t spell out phonetically. We practice writing in full sentences, using correct spacing and full stops. We read his course work in preparation for his reading group. When they’re due, we also do his school projects. And this after a full day at school after his sports or clubs. It is slow. It is laborious. It is exhausting. For a five year old. And his middle-aged mother. There are often tears. There are often tantrums. And that's just me.
I simply cannot begin to imagine the responsibility of doing this every day, all day. Teaching dozens of children, each at different stages of development, each with their own unique personality and understanding of the world. All the piles of marking, setting the coursework, the never-ending admin. Being friendly and positive and encouraging. And all the while remaining a sane and sober member of society. It’s a job up there with running a country or directing a hospital. No less important or valuable to society in my opinion.
I know that I could never do it. For more reasons than simply being completely inept.
- I have absolutely no patience. Not even for my own children. I cannot fathom being patient with someone else’s child. Not even the threat of getting the sack from my job or being arrested would deter me from getting irritated with a child that doesn't get it. Or being sarcastic.
- I am easily distracted. How could I possibly foster an environment of focus in a classroom when I can barely manage it myself? I mop the kitchen floor with my feet while I’m scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed, while I’m making pasta on the stove and on hold to speak to someone about an order from Gap. I simply cannot focus on one task a time.
- I can’t handle the noise. My daughter’s devil cry is enough to drive me directly to a G&T. The cacophony of children’s high-pitched squeals and excitable voices drives me crazy. I actually have to lie down after I visit a soft play. For two hours. In a dark and quiet room. With a pillow over my head.
- I am more than a little stupid. I have to Google everything. It would be mortifying to have my lack of intelligence exposed by a 6 year old. I’m not sure my ego would ever recover.
- I also like to be right. Even when I’m wrong. I’m not sure I’d be able to let a child have the last word. Any child. Especially not one who is actually right.
- The burden of responsibility is just so great. We’re talking about lives here. Real lives. Everyone remembers either their best or worst teacher. There’s no hiding from failure. No massaging the figures or winging the presentation. It’s all you. All of the time. And what you do matters. People remember it.
- There’s no big promotion, fat bonus or cushy benefits structure. Teachers are notoriously underpaid.
- The parents. The overbearing bolshy ones who think their kid is genius and deserves special treatment. I wouldn’t cope well with those types. There’d be bloodshed. And it wouldn't be mine.
- I’m way too lazy for all the work involved. No job should have that much work. It's just not right.
I have an opportunity now to be present for this part of my son’s life. To be present for homework and school and all that this entails. And this time has taught me so much. About him. About life. About myself. And mostly about the unsung heroes like teachers who quietly go about making a difference. On a very cheesy level, it makes me think of that Heather Small song “What Have you Done Today to Make you Feel Proud?” In response to her question, gosh where do I start? Well, besides handling the usual flotsam and jetsam of suburban mommy life, I de-limescaled our kettle, emptied the dishwasher and re-stacked the cannellini beans in our grocery cupboard. What did you do that makes you feel proud? It’s food for thought, innit? Food for thought indeed. That Aristotle geezer looked a fierce (and rather disturbing) chap, but my golly he was one clever Greek. Who just so happened to be a teacher.
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| "Aristotle Altemps Inv8575" by Copy of Lysippus - Jastrow (2006) |
