Alignment

When I was little (like four-year-old little) I had a Dr. Seuss book that asked you all sorts of personal questions (favorite color, best friend, etc.) and you got to write the answers RIGHT THERE in the book (yay! A hardcover book I didn’t get in trouble for coloring all over! This may have been the beginning of my bibliophile tendencies, and for *sure* is the beginning of my love of dog-earring pages, writing in margins, and highlighting everything… and my consequent absolute unwillingness to learn to read things on a computer when a hard copy is available somewhere. As anyone who has ever helped me move can attest to, 1/3 of my earthly possessions is books. Big. Heavy. Hardcover. Books.)

But in that Seuss book, one of the questions it asked was what you wanted to be when you grew up. Do you remember what you wanted to be when you were four?

I do.

In big red crayon, in letters poorly scribbled (looking a lot like “REDRUM” in lipstick on the mirror from “The Shining” now that I think about it…wow, that’s creepy) I wrote “TEACHER.”

And I’ve never looked back.

I’ve never wanted to be anything other than a teacher. I’ve never trained to do anything other than teaching. I’ve never doubted the route of the teacher (though clearly there are much less stressful, much higher paying professions in the world.) I actually had someone once say to me, “but you’re so smart. You can do anything in the world! Why would you choose to be a teacher?” It was probably the most offensive thing that anyone had ever said to me. And crushing.

One of my friends says that he has a visual of me actually coming out with of the womb with a little handheld chalkboard in tote. That image is funny to me. But I love when he says it, because I think it’s probably about right. I’ve always believed that we were each put on this Earth for a particular reason. We’re here to *do* something…to contribute something...to serve a particular purpose. It clearly doesn’t necessarily have to be a career-related contribution, but for me, I think it is. I am a teacher, and I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be a teacher. It’s who I am. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m about. I dig kids. And I want to help.

I tread lightly on the topic that comes next because I neither want my employer to find me ungrateful for the job I have, nor to paint a generalized picture of my colleagues. Because what I’m about to say doesn’t speak to everyone. But it sure does speak to some. And that “some” is not me. And it’s been a frustration of the last year of my life. And so here goes. If you’re reading this, and you say to yourself “hey, I’m not like that!” then this is probably not about you.

When I got a PhD people just assumed that meant I wanted to work at the college/ university level. No one believed that I was just a big geek who wanted to learn more. No one believed it was because one of my mentors in education, a man for whom I would have done just about anything, was the chair of the program and brought me there to work with him. No one believed that I just wanted a terminal degree to prove to myself and the world that I could do it. Obviously, having a PhD is about teaching college!

But let me tell you a dirty little secret friends. Teaching college is only a little bit about teaching (crushing shock to me…the rest of you are probably thinking “duh.”) It’s about how many papers you’ve published. It’s about how many conferences at which you’ve presented your research. It’s about BIG research. It’s about getting grants for the school. It’s about making contacts. It’s about working on committees. It’s about rankings.

And oh…yes. If you get a chance, teach some classes. Maybe do some academic advising if you get around to it. But if not, no big deal.

Now again, let me be clear, I have some friends and colleagues who are really good at finding that balance between research and teaching. But that’s because that’s who THEY are. What THEY value. It is not what the system necessarily values. The “system” isn’t set up to reward (or require) good teaching, nor does it encourage you to spend the bulk of your time doing the planning and prepping that good teaching requires. That’s all on you. As long as it doesn’t get in the way of what your job performance is rated on: the papers, and the committees, and the boards, and the money. And had I really known that that’s what I was signing up for, I would have gracefully bowed right on out, as, for me all that other business is about 48th on my priority list behind teaching, advising, teaching, advocating, teaching, helping, and have I mentioned *teaching*?

I spend my time in my classes telling my students that when they go out into the world, the best way for them to stay happy in their work is to find an institution/ school/ company that aligns with their own personal values. That way, each day when they get up, no matter how hard the actual job is that they have to do, they can at least feel confident and rest assured that they are doing something in which they truly believe.

Um. Do you hear that there in the background? It’s irony calling. And he’s laughing at me.

So, I may be the only professor in the world with a great job at a great institution of higher learning who is *actually* looking forward to finding a job back in an urban public high school somewhere. A place where good teaching is so desperately needed and wanted…where the 60-hour weeks are rewarded with personal satisfaction of doing good work, with making a difference in the life of a child, and with the ability to go to bed exhausted each night, but proud of the what you’re doing. (And no one asks you which editorial board you’re on.)

I’m too much of a nerd to give up research and writing all together. I’ll get back to it. I promise. Because I do like it. I really do. I’ve always had the utmost admiration for those amazing school principals and superintendents who are research-based in their thought process…who publish and continue to learn and grow and advocate. I want that to be me for sure. A teacher-researcher. But for now, I think it’s time I found an organization that aligned with what I hold to be the most important parts of who I am. I am a teacher first and a researcher second, not the other way around.