
I only watched Dancing with the Stars for a brief moment. I couldn't believe that Adam Corrola could do ballroom dancing, so I tuned in to see it for myself. The show is all glitz and glamour and cheers and flowers. I'm not entirely sure, but I imagine the winner earns a prize, perhaps a chance to move from C-list to B-list celebrity.
It was during this time that I watched Dangerous Minds or The Ron Clark Story or Freedom Writers or some other "inspirational" film about teaching. It makes no difference. The general plot outline remains the same. Someone from the suburbs takes a teaching job and passionately changes the ghetto in their first year. In each case, the implicit message is "work as hard as you possibly can. Sacrifice everything. Be a martyr and make a difference." Which is exactly what they are. In each case, the teacher does not last a lifetime, but quits within the first ten years.
I realize that my cynicism might have a tinge of jealousy to it. Instead of feeling inspired, I always feel guilty when I watch them. But, I do see those films as dangerous. Like Dancing with the Stars, the movies are supposed to be "reality tv" and "based upon a true story." The problem is that silverscreen teachers are vapor. They are all flickering lights and projected voice and a mask worn by a pretty actress. They are not flesh and bones and from my experience, students don't yearn for perfection as much as they yearn for humanity. They want authenticity from a teacher.
Perhaps a better judge of reality is watching C-SPAN. Honestly, the men and women there are making a difference, but it's unfiltered and unvarnished. You see Ted Kennedy pick his nose and John McCain play with his comb over. There is a sense, in watching C-SPAN, that you get a glimpse at what teaching is really like: moments of tedium and boredom, hours of grading papers, boring committees and learning how to wait hours before using the restroom.
C-SPAN demonstrates a subtle reality to teaching. Teachers make a difference, but they do so in an environment that can be dull and slow and drenched in bureaucracy. It's not that teaching is boring, but that it's not glamorous. It's less like dancing before a crowd and more like working in secret, behind the scenes, going unnoticed. The growth is slow and attempting to measure it is the equivalent to watching grass grow. This might seem like sacrilege, but it's not unlike Congress. Often times, teachers work hard to teach a lesson and certain students don't learn it and honestly it's like working hard only to see a bill die in committee.
Pretentious, Presumptuous and Perhaps Practical Advice
1. Recognize that growth is slow. You'll see a difference at the end of the year, but the deep, personal part of teaching won't emerge until later. One day a kid will come back while he's in college and he'll say, "you made a difference" and I swear it's better than an audience applause on Dances iwth the Stars.
2. Students don't want to become a project. They sense when you are attempting to be a silverscreen teacher attempting to turn them into a story for your self-glorification. When doing cool projects with students, I would recommend avoiding recognition both for you and for them. Don't call the newspapers. Don't alert the staff.
3. Consider shifting your focus from "making a difference" to "being faithful to the vocation." In the process, you'll make a difference, but you won't constantly be checking up on making a difference. But if you can be faithful to who you are in your vocation, you'll find that you make a difference.
4. Pace yourself. In other words, instead of trying your hardest to be a silverscreen teacher who will change the world and gain recognition, take care of yourself. Carve out time for fun and for excercise. Eat right. I know this is trite advice, but I seriously let my health slip my first year of teacher because I let it completely consume me.
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