My calling was not teaching

It’s a little known fact that at the age of 9 I decided I wanted to be a teacher. I had this feeling all the way until I was 17 and a senior in high school. Once I got to my senior year I took child development classes and also got a job at my high school daycare. I loved it. I thought it was great until one day we were told that part of our assignment was to help out at a local school for a few hours a week. I was excited to get the Kindergarten class…since that’s the age I wanted to teach. So I went to a local elementary school and walked in all excited. My first 5 minutes were great! The kids were so cute and curious and ready to learn/play. I couldn’t wait to get started with whatever I was going to do. Then minute 6 happened. I realized that 30 kids all the age of 5 could get unruly and all of a sudden I knew…I can’t do this! Granted I could have but I felt that I would be doing a disservice to the kids since I knew I wouldn’t be giving them the education they needed since I would be having a nervous breakdown in the corner from the craziness of tons of screaming kids. So, I was on a path to figure out what else I wanted to do.

Every once in awhile I regretted not going into teaching. I realized that even though you get paid less than your standard customer service agent working for a phone company, it would be fun, exciting, different every day, and rewarding! Boy was I wrong!

Earlier this week my boyfriend (we’ll call him Mr. Teacher since we’re on the internet and all) had an art show for his middle school art students and their parents. I drove to the school after work to check it out and support my guy and see what he teaches his students. I arrived and walked into his classroom where there were a few kids roaming around waiting for something to do before the art show started. Of course they all looked at me and had an opinion of who I was. At 11-13 years of age you always have an opinion. Anyway, I was standing there waiting for Mr. Teacher to finish talking to one of his students when one brazen 12 year old girl came up to me asking “Are you Mr. Teachers wife?” I looked her dead in the eye and said “no”. Figuring this was the end of it, I should have known better, she asks “Are you his girlfriend?” Again I looked her in the eye and said “no”. She looked a little confused and I thought maybe she would let it drop….I’m stupid. “Who are you then?” Hmm, I could say I’m a friend, but she probably wouldn’t buy it and by the looks of her she wasn’t going to let me off the hook without a believable answer. So for the third time I looked at her and lied my ass off…”I’m his sister”. The look of confusion was priceless. She was totally trying to figure out how her Filipino Mr. Teacher was related to this pale/pasty white chick. I could see the questions mounting, her wanting to know how we each turned out so different. “I’m adopted, and I don’t like talking about it” is what I say to her as she says “oh” and walks away. Evidently that answer satisfied her or she was just afraid of me now. Either way I don’t care.

Mr. Teacher finally is done giving out assignments to his volunteer students and now is monitoring the hallways so that no one tries to rip down the art work or run in the halls. I walk around the hall looking at the art work and realize I can feel my blood pressure going up and quickly. Mr. Teacher is the only one monitoring the kids since the other teachers are helping set up things for the concert next door. So while walking through the halls there are dozens of 6-8th graders walking and running down the halls, all trying to impress each other and yelling loudly so everyone can hear them. Even with Mr. Teacher yelling at them to walk and behave the effort seems futile. These kids have no control and no manners and no respect for anyone! I may sound like an old lady, but seriously…kids these days are horrible! As I’m looking at art work one girl talks back to Mr. Teacher about toughing someone else’s art work on the wall. She doesn’t just talk back once, this goes on for about 45 seconds before Mr. Teacher threatens to kick her out of the show and take her to the dean’s office. Ok, I know I was a pain in the ass at 11-13 of age (ok more like 11-22 year of age) but I never remember me or any of my friends talking back to a teacher, especially like that! I suppose my parents raised me right and I also was a good kid for the most part.

It seemed like every 10 seconds Mr. Teacher was having to tell kids to behave or get back to where they were supposed to be all while trying to get everything up and ready. At that age everyone is so dramatic, huffing down the hallway making it seem like everything was a big freaking deal and getting so frustrated because no one understood you. I understand hormones are flying but my God! Kids were yelling at each other, yelling at staff, trying to be sneaky, not listening when they should have been, and in general just being freaking annoying! I tended to just walk around and try not to be noticed for the most part but was realizing right then that if I did become a teacher, I would probably have a nervous breakdown by the time I was 30 and kids would hate me. It’s true…while I love kids and people in general…I would have to glue them to their seats and cover their mouths with tape. Sorry, but it’s true. I have no tolerance for pre-teens…makes me glad not to be that age again or working in an environment where there are tons of them. I’ll admit it, I’m just a cranky old lady and I don’t care. I only like my friends kids, probably because they are raised right!

I know what you’re thinking…hostile, crabby old lady. Well yeah, so be it. At least I made the right decision not to go into teaching. I’ll leave that to Mr. Teacher!

P.S. I know what you’re thinking mom and dad…the ones I’m writing about…that was me at that same age. I acknowledge that and own up to it!