I used to hate hearing this question. Reminded me of all the failures and frustrations which I had endured at Cal State Long Beach and at home. I needed to have a job, to have a calling in this life. I did not really think about doing the things that I wanted. I did not have time to sit and think about such things.
And the question, "Do you like being a teacher?" stuck to me good, and I could not shake it off very well, but for a long time I did not notice how the question would stick to me.
At first, I just brushed the question aside, or I nodded an empty "Yeah, sure."
Of course, how can I neglect the terrible realization that hit me after my student teaching at Dana Middle School. The mentor Teacher, Mr. H., told me that I had better be prepared to answer the question:
"Why do you want to be a teacher?"
When he posed the question to me, about one week before the student teaching assignment ended,. when I would walk off the assignment, get my C-19 letter, and start working. I was dumb-founded. Not a word, not a thought, not one reason came to mind. The past two weeks, I had placed the class on "lock-down", so fed up was I with a class that gotten so rude and rebellious, that I could not get through a lesson.
The mentor teacher told me to lie low for the rest of the week, just get through parts of the book, then move on. I look back on those days, convinced that he was glad to be rid of me very soon.
"Do you like being a teacher?" would have been another way to phrase the question which the mentor teacher posed to me. I could not give a reason for being a teacher, and I did not really like being a teacher, but I wanted a job, I wanted to get out of the house and move on with me life. Then again, whatever I was moving on to was not settled yet, not by a long short.
After my first year at South Gate, after I had all but torn up the classes that I had taught with massive discipline efforts — at least I had the support of the deans, who liked my authoritative streak — the principal confronted me in tense conference filled with shouting: "Do you look forward to waking up in the morning?"
I barely nodded "Yeah, kind of. . ." I did not the many months of emptiness which dominated my life. I would go home and just sit in front of the TV, or I would sit in a local restaurant and read the local paper, do the Sudoku or the Crossword puzzles, then read over the many books which I had brought with me to read. I was bored and empty, wanting to do anything else but plan and teach. I had no problem leaving the school at school. I did not spend too much time planning for anything, anyway, since most of the students did not complete the work that I assigned them to do, anyway.
Of course, the moment that I had to get ready to go home and prepare for the next day, those were unpleasant times. I physically dreaded going to work, but I was convinced that for the time being I had to stick it out and do the best that I could within the circumstances.
I did not like being a teacher, although at the time, I did not realize that it was the job. I was convinced that if I just did something different, if I did more activities. If I incorporated more games, then at least the class would be more fun. It did not work for me, and I know that it did not work for the students, either
"Do you like being a teacher?" I will never forget another students who had asked me this question, twice. At Hawthorne High School, a terrible place to work if you are a substitute, and I gather that it was not much fun for the full-time staff, either. This one kid, Karl, would ask more specifically: "Do you like to work with little children?" These were high school students whom I was contending with, but no doubt they were little children in spirit and in mind, so caught up in provoking and provocation with me. I cannot believe that I put up with the whole mess as long as I did. I would say in passing that I was OK with it, but the body language and the movement of the heart tell the real story, and I did not like working there.
Twice Karl asked me that question, and twice I soft-balled it with a "Yeah, sure." But in truth, no, I did not like the job. Specifically, I did not like being a teacher at that school with the majority of those students, and the feeling without a doubt was mutual.
I did not care for Karl all that much, the same kid who had hollered at me in Hollyglen, West Hawthorne a few years later, the same kid who loved "Mr. Schaper the comedian, yet who had no respect for "Mr. Schaper the teacher".
Frankly, I see no reason to blame him, or any other student who had given me a hard time. My heart was simply not in it, or I had lost heart for the profession shortly after leaving a local charter school, and I had no desire to figure out what I was to do about it, for a long time I struggled with the issues of who I was, what I was called to do and to be in this life, and the biggest problem that I had in large part is that I was dealing with the "do" part first as opposed to the "be" element.
Learn how to prosper in your soul, and then watch the rest unfold in your life! (3 John 2)