I just read an article about the life of an uncool teacher and it struck me that sometimes this is what I really do. In fact, I've been on display for much of my life. Sometimes it has been a shameless ploy for attention. I remember my days as a junior high student, making bad jokes, grabbing girls' butts, searching for hugs in all the wrong places. Popularity was a must for a 12 year old kid. Even if it meant the occasional grounding from parents or the acceptance and ridicule of teachers, office workers or administration alike. I specifically remember Mr. Bell, my 8th grade science teacher and basketball coach. I was in the office working the charm on the secretaries and in he walks. He realizes I'm waiting out the final hours of my suspension by waiting in the office. Why was I suspended? For fighting. For fighting a classroom kid who we relentlessly teased day in and day out. Wherever Robert Warren is now, I'm sure he's drinking a beer in disgust of us.
So Coach Bell goes into this tirade as I sit there. All I'm thinking is, "Why is he so upset? I didn't fight in HIS class or beat up HIS kid?" I understand it now, though. I'm Coach Bell at times, too. I shake my head and go into tirades (hmmm, like this Friday?) towards some of my brightest and best. Perhaps Coach Bell saw something in me that day succumb to the lowest denominator. Perhaps he felt I was going to be another kid lost to the crowd.
Back to teaching. Since day one, I have been tirelessly promoting good will from all my students and the future ones as well. I high five, act like I'm going to eat their PB and J sandwiches, talk funny and listen to their stories. At first, it was a way for me to prove that attitude and popularity was all you needed to be a successful teacher. Watch me out-teach these old ladies! Of course, I also shouted, stammered and burn myself out for those first 6 years.
I still do a lot of these things. I play basketball with my fourth graders like every game is my last. I tease some of my fifth graders from last year and I try and promote something more than myself--God. God wants my best, everyday. Sometimes it's a daunting task, especially when I don't seek his help. But, it's a far less exhausting task than before when I just promoted myself. Promoting yourself led nowhere. I burned a lot of bridges along the way, and some of those people continue to be in my life. Far better than I deserve.
So, here I am getting a hair cut. I wrote her kid up on Friday, and she's telling me the story of how bad his day was on Friday. I chuckled at her smile, and the fact that there wasn't a question as to the validity of the offense. We started to talk about the classrooms, todays kids, technology, the dangers of facebook and so many other things. I'm blessed to be one of the few carrying on a meaningful conversation while the others are sitting silent.
But the coolness factor still rears its ugly head. I got a chance to learn a monologue as if I were the character of Barabbas. You know him, right? He was set free by the Jews who had turned their backs on Jesus. Barabbas was the guilty one. But, he was the one set free, the first sinner to be saved by the blood of Jesus. And talk about following the crowd--what of Pilate? He had the power, he knew it was wrong, but he washed his hands and let the people decide because of their wishes. Been there, done that.
And I decided afterwards to quietly head out the building. I didn't want to hear, "good job," even though secretly I did. That's vanity. During awards assemblies, the principal would call our names and the class would cheer raucously. I loved being THAT teacher. This past year, she nixed that because I think some teachers actually got booed. I hear the kids tell me to fail them so they can come back. "No, you must leave and grow, my dear." Fifth graders sneak back into my room and talk to me.
Sometimes I have these silly visions of leading a kids' chorus, a performance. Like the kind you see on youtube and you think, "I want my kid to be in THAT class." Maybe that's God's way of saying that he wants me right where I am. The leader of the chorus. The Band leader. March on.
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