Teaching

As a kid, I always used to think I might make a good grade-school teacher. I used to pretend that I was my teacher, Ms. Koster, and imagine how I would organize the lesson. I still get a kind of wistful happy feeling when I'm on school grounds. On Election Day, I voted at the local elementary school. The hallways smelled of crayons, chalk, and lemon disinfectant. The lines of voters wound past bulletin boards displayed "Our Super Stars" and essays on "Why I Like to Exercise by Mrs. Kimmy's Class." It seemed like such a friendly, cozy environment, one where I could thrive.

But maybe not as a teacher, maybe more as a school secretary or something. Teachers have such enormous responsibilities. They have to be attuned to the individual academic and socialization needs of an entire roomful of children. If anything goes wrong they're the first to be blamed for not noticing or following the proper protocol. And they're stuck in the middle between an administration that sometimes doesn't understand their needs and parents who are fiercely, insanely defensive of their children. It's scary to have any profession where you're responsible for other people's children.

Maybe that's not how they see it. I was at the school playground yesterday, after school hours, and 20-some kids ranging in age from 5 to about 10 were romping around the junglegym and swings while three teachers supervised them. I guess they were waiting for the parents to pick up their kids. It was a pretty chaotic scene. The kids were constantly hitting each other with sticks and jump ropes, getting in minor arguments over whose turn it was, tripping and bumping their noses, running off into the woods. My only job was to supervise one individual kid, my own, who is only a toddler so easy to catch and unlikely to hurt anyone else. But I felt slightly stressed even doing that because there was just so much going on. The other kids were all over her, wanting to touch her, asking me how old she was. I had to keep a sharp lookout and physically deflect the occasional frisbee or ball that was about to hit her, and keep her from getting kicked or run over as she toddled around. I felt like if I was the other teachers, responsible for about 7 kids each that were constantly in motion and in danger from themselves and each other, I'd feel pretty frazzled. I tried to keep track of one little girl for a few minutes but she was zipping around like a chipmunk, I kept losing her in the fray. Yet two of the teachers weren't even paying attention to the kids. They were chatting together and laughing. The third teacher was comforting a kid who had grazed his knee and was periodically calling out things to other kids: "Ramon you put that down." "Kelsey, it's Diane's turn on the swings." "OK Amy, that's enough." She didn't seem frazzled either, but calm and in control. All I could think was, if I had her gig, I'd need to really chill out from where I am now.