The thing about teaching is that unlike some jobs or professions, it permeates every aspect of our lives.
I am, have always been, in the very fabric of my being, a teacher. My concern over the sleep-deprived grade 4 student dealing with seemingly insurmountable challenges at home does not end when the bell rings at 3:15 p.m. My conversations as a second-year
I am, have always been, in the very fabric of my being, a teacher. My concern over the sleep-deprived grade 4 student dealing with seemingly insurmountable challenges at home does not end when the bell rings at 3:15 p.m. My conversations as a second-year
teacher with Brad in grade 6 who would clam up and not speak in silent protest when asked why he had not completed yet another assignment still haunt me when I find myself in a situation that reminds of me Brad, or of countless other students, parents, principals, colleagues past and present. I am forever searching for a better way to solidify understanding, build confidence, improve assessment and learning.
Sometimes I get distracted from this work. Sometimes the work itself becomes so fascinating, so engaging, that I lose--for just a moment, or a few weeks, or months -- the moral purpose of why I am a teacher. It is not, after all, about my own mental or intellectual stimulation (though of course that is a delightful side effect), but rather, it is about making a difference for kids in classrooms (and ultimately, human beings and brothers and sisters of my human family).
As Penny Kittle points out, in a quote in Karen Hume's book on Differentiation, "teaching is about honour and goodness and mercy. It really is." Even when no one is watching, we are called to act in accordance with this creed.
My prayer this morning is that I would be constantly steered in the direction where my particular gifts and talents can make the greatest impact for students and for the people around me. And that when I am steered in that direction, that I would have the good sense to recognize the road signs before I miss the turn off!
Sometimes I get distracted from this work. Sometimes the work itself becomes so fascinating, so engaging, that I lose--for just a moment, or a few weeks, or months -- the moral purpose of why I am a teacher. It is not, after all, about my own mental or intellectual stimulation (though of course that is a delightful side effect), but rather, it is about making a difference for kids in classrooms (and ultimately, human beings and brothers and sisters of my human family).
As Penny Kittle points out, in a quote in Karen Hume's book on Differentiation, "teaching is about honour and goodness and mercy. It really is." Even when no one is watching, we are called to act in accordance with this creed.
My prayer this morning is that I would be constantly steered in the direction where my particular gifts and talents can make the greatest impact for students and for the people around me. And that when I am steered in that direction, that I would have the good sense to recognize the road signs before I miss the turn off!
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