As a teacher, the classroom changed my life
Published: August 1, 2005
When I think about the kids, and the six years of struggle and effort I put in as a teacher in the Chicago Public Schools, I have my moments of doubt and pain. How can you believe so completely in a cause as noble as education, give it your best, then turn your back?
The answer is you can’t.
Once you are the teacher, you are always the teacher. I was on Navy Pier the other day reporting a story on teens and technology when a young lady planted herself in front of me. “Mrs. Baldacci, what are you doing here?” asked one of my former fifth-graders. About 450 young people passed through my classroom in six years. We are part of each other’s lives forever. Much of what I learned at school I learned from them.
At school I learned self-control and how to be a good role model and not swear. I learned that if you are a poor role model and swear all the time, you could become a famous rapper.
Another thing I learned is good manners. I say “Good morning” and “How are you doing today?” and don’t just walk up and start yammering away like I used to. People seem to appreciate this.
I also learned “the stern teacher voice” that I can turn on and off at will. I had to use it with a rude woman on the phone last week. “Is there a problem?” I asked her in my teacher voice, and she straightened up right away. If we are ever in an emergency situation together, like a fire or a train wreck, I will get you to safety with my no-nonsense teacher voice and the take-charge organizational skills I learned in school. “This way,” I will say, and if necessary, “Apply pressure.”
The thing I am most proud of is taking hundreds of children on dozens of field trips and never losing one. I never took my first class, seventh-graders, anywhere, because the principal was afraid of the trouble we might get into. Though I didn’t lose any of them at the time, when I went looking for them this year, as they prepared to graduate from high school, I found all of the girls but none of the boys. I learned that the disappearing black male is a painful fact of urban life.
I learned that I was wrong when I thought teachers’ hours would give me more time with my own two kids. I was at home more, but there were always lesson plans to write, materials to collect, copies to make, things to cut and fold, papers to grade, report cards and workshops, all for children not my own. Thankfully, most of the work was at the dining room table or the computer and my kids knew I was home, and that is good for teenagers. I learned that too many kids, younger than teenagers, are on their own, unsupervised, every day, and on the streets all hours of the night. I lost plenty of sleep over them, and that taught me I had more than two kids I considered “my kids.”
At school I learned about multiculturalism and multiple intelligences and that multiple choice is a weak way to test for knowledge. I learned that the same kids who drive you crazy every single day are the ones who need you the most, and can even become the ones you miss.
I learned the stress of living paycheck-to-paycheck but that even when you’re poor you can feel rich. I learned that when you teach someone to read, you feel like you’ve given them the whole treasure chest.
I learned the difference between serving and saving. The first is grounded in humility, the second in arrogance. The conversation about “saving our schools” needs to refocus on serving the best interests of children. The best interests of my children at the moment involve college education, and I learned that two tuitions on a schoolteacher’s salary does not compute.
Teaching is a profession people go into for all the right reasons. Half leave after five years because of working conditions, exhaustion and the pay. I became a teacher because I believed education is the path to social justice, and school is the safety net for children at risk. At school, I learned that is not a belief. It’s the truth. Going back to school changed my life. Isn’t that the point?
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