Glimmers

Another blogger - (could we please change the name of what it is I'm doing?  Makes me sound like a scrapbooker.  Or knitter.  Neither of which I can or would do.) - posted earlier about the career we've both chosen - education.  She and I are at the end of another school year, frustrated, tired, and underappreciated.

Teachers are the only people who go into a workplace knowing that most of what they do is for naught.  Your end product, regardless of the dedication, sweat, hope and ability you bring will only be as good as the raw materials you have to work with.  The natural resources in our area ran dry long ago.  Right now we're working with slag.  Our students' apathy permeates the lab in which we are supposed to create active learners with a pall that is almost visible.  And they are fine with that.  Their mamas and daddies are fine with that.  Just let them make cheerleading, or football, and don't expect toooooooo much from them.  They're poor, and have a baby, and have to work.

Here's the thing.  Lots of people are poor.  And have babies.  And work.  But not everyone is sorry and shiftless and unconcerned about anything going on in the world outside of the gas station on the corner and Dollar General.

And let's face it - praying them smart hasn't worked.  Nor has our method of sex education - faith-based - really worked for the area.  Bring in some heathens who don't go out every Saturday night and get shit-faced before going to church to be seen on Sunday morning!  Doesn't make you a damn bit holier than me, just less honest.  No one's buying it, and it hasn't worked.  The community isn't God-fearing - they're only name droppers.  The lack of compassion for anyone other than the local yokels is astounding.

Do I sound bitter?  I am.  Years ago I envisioned a career that would allow me to share what I love - knowledge - with those people I find so fascinating.  Adolescents.  Hasn't actually worked out that way, but there have been moments...

I recently received an email from a former student.  It came exactly when it needed to - horrible day in an institution where the status quo keeps anyone from advancing,  an incubator for sloth and hypocrisy masked as a school.  I feel isolated most days - few opportunities to talk to people I actually like and share common ground.  I do, however, have a lot of time to spend listening to our janitor's latest CD, available for purchase in the office, and hear about yet another blessed event shared by a student.  And also enough time to clean up the campus.  But that's another rant.

I'm sharing the email to offer hope, and remind myself of the ripple effect.  It lasts longer than you imagine.
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"Just wanted to take a moment to thank you for the impact that you had on my life and education. There are a couple of gateways in a person's life where a teacher can make all the difference. You were at one of those gateways for me. You respected us as adults and expected adult things from us, but still encouraged us to enjoy our last days as kids. That is no small feat. While I don’t know if this is what you always wanted to do, I do know that your students (myself included) are better people for your choice."

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What I do does have an impact and how I do it is appreciated.  By those capable of learning.  I tell myself this, often, almost as a litany.  It's sometimes the only thing that makes me drive the Highway of Broken Dreams.