ANSWERING THE CALLING

As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be an elementary school teacher. It was just one of those things, I just knew, I was kid in the back of the class who waved my arms aimlessly as if I needed rescuing but in reality, I was the one who had a calling and answered the question,

“What do you want to be when you grow up?

Many of my male classmates and friends answered the typical; policeman and fireman or the most ambitious were a doctor or lawyer. My female classmates answered with more poise than us males, teacher but some said nurse and the most determined ones were to say veterinarian or something with an excessively long, hard to spell and pronounce profession.

My quick reply always was a confident and enthusiastic,

“I want to be a teacher!”

My dream was further reinforced by having great teachers early on. I especially remember my Grade 3 teacher, Mrs. Bowling, who not only reinforced this desire but engraved it into my soul. She taught the whole class in such a way that I truly felt as if she taught the lessons directed at me, one-on-one. She provided the extra patience and practice in my weakest areas and released me to shine and supersede in areas which came easy. She managed to find that something more in her lessons to engage me rather than let me daydream off somewhere. She knew how to feed my brain to feel challenged in both dynamics without either lowering my self-esteem or building up my ego.

Close to before school would release for summer break, we would find out who our next school year’s teacher would be. I vividly remember the look of fear on the faces of my classmates when they anxiously found out it would be Mrs. Bowling. I am without a doubt in my mind, been one of the few, if not the only one, who probably did not share this sentiment. Despite her short stature, she towered over me, and I still looked up at her in awe. With fortune being on my side, I was blessed to have for both Grade 3 and Grade 4. Along with her, many other great educators throughout my public school years through Grade 12 cemented my dream alive and my aspirations focused.

At fourteen years-old, I heard of a part-time job opportunity at the local YMCA. It was a summer after-school homework assistant, much like a camp counselor but focused on homework assistance and tutoring than on typical outdoor recreational activities. This was much like a half day summer camp focusing on the children who had mandatory summer school requirements to fulfill as they were wavering from being promoted to the next grade. The summer after-school program had a balance of recreational activities but with academic assistance to help with homework or tutoring instead of going on full day field trips.

I made connections with key staff members from volunteering with the pee-wee karate class and notwithstanding how much I love being outdoors, I felt the job was a sure win for me. Once they began taking applications, I jumped at the opportunity and applied for the job immediately, if not sooner. Within a day or two after I submitted my application, I interviewed for the position and was offered the position at conclusion of my interview. Summer flew by faster than usual and towards the last weeks of summer, program enrollment and seasoned staff began dropping. Families began to schedule last summer vacations and begin getting ready for the school year. A good number of staff returned to university and luckily for some, it was going to be their first-year teaching. I was saddened to see the summer escape as quick as it did as it meant my seasonal summer position was coming to an end; until one of the directors pleasantly surprised me. I was one of a handful offered to continue working as a junior after-school program counselor.

Before I finished my senior year of high school, I scheduled my semi-obligatory graduation conference with my guidance counselor. This was like an exit interview for me, my parents and my assigned guidance counselor to review my four years of high school grades, standardized testing scores. The meeting’s goal was either to guarantee job security for my guidance counselor or to help transition and release me to my next stage of life, adulthood, or some sort of post-secondary education. Although I knew it was the latter, I really wanted to believe it was my initial thoughts on the matter.

My parents not only respected educators but held them to a higher standard simply because of their advanced academic achievement. I instantly knew when my guidance counselor questioned my chosen career path of becoming an elementary school teacher, we were going to be in for a confrontational conversation. After a nonchalant welcome and exchange of several polite greetings she opened the conversation,

“Over the past four years during Robert’s routine meetings with me, he always shared his passion and desire to become an elementary school teacher.”

She continued to monopolize the conversation with extra small talk to keep the proverbial make-believe mic on her. Her diction was directed at my parents, as if I were absent from the room.

“In the past couple of years, as more elective classes opened up, he often asked which classes he could take that best suited him for his career choice.”

I already tuned her out,

“I want to be honest, Robert’s high school grades, academic performance and extra-curricular participation may prove college academics to be more than just a challenge and may initially frustrate him.”

“My experience with students like Robert, is time, his effort will not pay off in terms of his grades, this eventually could devastate him when he doesn’t achieve the results he anticipated.”

She further attempted to explain to my parents,

“In college, teachers don’t chase you for assignments or track your attendance. Course grades are usually based on usually a couple of exams and a term paper.”

She further expounded,

“He would be solely accountable and responsible for his own success.”

She tried, too hard to speak in her best forged attempt to speak like a compassionate guidance counselor,

“Focusing on his vocational battery exam results, Robert may be best at completing a vocational-technical school to learn a trade.”

“In our meetings, he expressed interests in both computers and small electronic repair and he likes to cook several things.”

“He may do reasonably well in a hands-on training environment to learn a trade in one of these areas of interest.”

I figured her point was to put the fear of college into me by sharing most students of my caliber drop out before their first year is ever completed.

Both my parents came to the United States as legal immigrants, they worked harder than most to have everything they have. They achieved the American dream, became American citizens and rightfully wanted their only child to not have to work as hard as they did to achieve the dream even more than they ever did. When I glanced over at my parents, I could sense they felt deflated the minute my guidance counselor made her insensitive recommendation that I will graduate high school and will probably work just as hard as they did but not to amount to not much of anything due to a lack of motivation on my part.

I voiced my opinion and explained how I will become the best elementary school teacher,

“I will be one of the best teachers that children will look back on fondly.”

“In the four years I’ve worked at the YMCA I’ve learned teaching is not always about being the smartest in any one subject area but having compassion and empathy for those who may not be the most popular or the ones who get the best grades.”

I felt as I was losing the battle but found strength and reiterated,

“I enjoy working with the underdog and helping them find their success. Just like my favorite teachers encouraged, supported and celebrated my successes. They were there for me.”

“Those underdogs are my favorite kids to work with at the YMCA.”

Despite my best efforts to try to convey my stance and defend my post-graduation goals, she abruptly interrupted by stating our time together is just about up and simply ended it by saying,

“There is a lot of work happening in the background that you don’t see happening before those teachers come out to their classrooms to teach their lessons.”

Then like a verbal slap of degradation of my four years of work work with children, she sternly stated,

“Teaching is not the same as being paid to play with children at the YMCA.”

She proceeded thanked my parents and I for attending and expressed how she enjoyed our conversation, she swiftly stood up and escorted us out of her office. I tuned out her continued abrupt and unpleasant closing comments she said to my parents while I quickly grabbed another community college catalog and application before leaving the guidance office.

I expected further discussion on this when I got home from work that evening, but dinner dialogue was oddly quieter than usual. Perhaps, my parents knew how the majority of my day already went. After dinner, I politely asked to be excused from the table and went to my bedroom. I couldn’t let go of what transpired earlier in the graduation conference, I began writing up a list of pros and cons of attending into the local community college. I didn’t need a way to convince my parents that my guidance counselor was wrong, as much as I needed to prove to myself that this educator was not going to shatter my dreams. My parents fully supported my decision to attempt college and reiterated if I want something bad enough, I know how to work hard to get it. Even with a list of mostly pros of going, the largest one working against me was tuition and book fees, I completed my admission application packet, wrote out and attached a check for the application fee and attached my most up to date high school transcript and called it a night.

Without much fanfare, the next morning, my Mom drove me down to the local community college campus to submit my application package. While she drove, I shared how proud I am of myself for taking the first step to fulfilling my dreams. She concurred with a smile and telling me,

“Dad and I are very proud of you and your accomplishments.”

With a feeling of contentment, even today, many years later, I still value the words both my parents always told me growing up,

“Always be the best in whatever I do.”

and something along the lines of be whatever you want in life, but always remain true to you.

Sometime during the summer, after graduation, one of my supervisors gave me a list of scholarships sponsored by various kindred YMCA groups. He encouraged and offered to help proof my application and provide any references. I applied for a few of the ones which best fit my situation. About a month before I was to start classes at the local community college, I was awarded a rather large scholarship. It was essentially a conditional loan in which I agreed to pay the funder back by working at a local YMCA for two years of service for every year I was a recipient of funds. Although there was no formal rigorous admission acceptance policy, I remember how the test of patience in just waiting impatiently for my official acceptance letter to arrive before I could register for classes or the upcoming fall term. Sometime before the summer programs at the YMCA ended and the fall programs began, I enthusiastically registered for my first community college classes.

I completed but not finished community college, before I transferred to university to finish my four year bachelor’s degree. With the help of a couple of promotions and a handful of smaller grant-based scholarships, I was able to afford paying my tuition and books to carry me through graduate school where I ended up completing all the academic credits towards the much-coveted doctoral degree without any carried student debt. To much dismay of my high school guidance counselor, I did not become another high school student she protected from a disastrous failing disappointment by heeding her advice of not going to college. For both my bachelor’s degree and master’s degree I made returned to my high school guidance counselor’s to office to make a point and proudly share my achievement. Regrettably, for issues beyond my control, I was unable to complete the dissertation portion of a doctoral program.

Note to myself, I may need to be readdress the dissertation as a possible retirement project.

With each passing year, not only did I grow in maturity, but I expanded my knowledge of working with children and how to work with children professionally. I continued working at the YMCA in the school-age child care programs and further I developed my skills working with children and progressed towards completing my college degree. My destiny to become this awesome, elementary school teacher that children will look back and warm-heartedly remember me much the same way I remembered my favorite teachers was slowly becoming within my reach. I am humbled when I reflect back to the great experience I had with my first group of children working my first summer after-school program. I am truly blessed to have had the same group of children who continued supporting my love of working with children. Over the next few years, I watched many of these same children grow into first hand pre-teenagers under my eyes. Although I never taught in a classroom of my own, I answered my own calling as I worked with youth in the YMCA for just over twenty years before transitioning to various roles in administration.
 

My strong yearning to be this excellent elementary school teacher slowly dissolved into an illusion, after I substituted for a teacher who went out on early pregnancy leave. I volunteered in a first grade classroom at one of my schools where I also ran the YMCA after-school program. I became friends with the teacher and the administration and facilitated me becoming the logical and only choice to fill in for this teacher for the last six weeks of the school year. I was familiar with the students, the lesson plans, their routines and each individual’s areas needing practice and areas where they soared. Remember, I mentioned one, but I had many excellent teacher role models, this was my chance to make them proud. It wasn’t until I saw how the magic of being a teacher was taken away by the overly structured and often scripted ways teachers must present a lesson. Long gone are the days, where a teacher like Mrs. Bowling found creative ways to make an impact on every student by making them feel as if they were the only one in the class. Don’t get me wrong, even in today’s structure, a teacher’s personality, creativity and genuine fondness of their students still play a larger than life part in the making of the best teachers.

In the end, to my chagrin, I never became that awesome elementary school teacher that I yearned and visualized for my most of my youth to my early middle adulthood. Yet, my YMCA career, spanning close to forty years, nonetheless was filled my life with an outstanding career with many varied positions and leaving me with no sense of regret. I may not have switched jobs or companies at a whim for the next larger salary or climbed the next rung in the highly desired career ladder; but the immeasurable opportunities the YMCA presented me with were far more fulfilling than I ever could have ever imagined. It’s been several years since I worked directly with children, yet I see many of them in the varied communities I operated programs in and through those who found me and befriended me via various social media. In both situations, it makes my heart smile and just love to see many of them have become successful adults and many became parents themselves now. I’d like to believe I had a small footprint in their journey, as did many educators did with me.

If you are curious as if these great teachers look back through their years of teachers and wonder whatever happened to certain students they had over the years, I guess you haven’t made the effort to reach out to one of your former teachers and saw their sparkling eyes shine as you tell them about how they contributed to your journey. If I count properly, I believe I kept in touch with a couple teachers through middle school, more than one handful but not quite two through high school and a handful through graduate school.

When I initiated my story boards and began writing this post, it was to acknowledge, Teachers Appreciation Week. I didn’t expect it to be a sentimental and journey within itself. With each educator, I shared a memory, or maybe something I learned, or something else I fondly remembered from every teacher beginning with kindergarten to all the teachers I had throughout high school. Just in case you are wondering, yes, the inner nerd in me did in fact remember all my teachers through Grade 12. I managed, without assistance of reviewing my school records or asking friends in person or on social media for memory cues. I am indeed much like a computer’s hard drive, filled with a lot of useless information and could often benefit from a reformat. I couldn’t resist the nerd humor – so, no apologies.

Here’s to expressing gratitude for all those educators who walked along with me throughout my journey, for either just a moment in time or for a lifetime. Hopefully, I reminded them, sometime in their school years, they too, were the student in the back of the class who waved their arms aimlessly waiting to be called upon, to be the one who answered the question and their own calling,

“What do you want to be when you grow up?

And reply simply,

“A teacher!”

To be continued…

 

 

 

 

 

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