Purpose

Every time I get ready to see friends and family who I haven't seen in a while, I always brace myself for the inevitable question:  So, why aren't you married yet?  Usually it's followed up by:  Well, don't you want to have a family?  I've even had some go so far as to tell me that my life will be incomplete and unfulfilled if I don't manage to accomplish those things.

Let me tell you something:  Ouch.  Why am I not married?  Don't I want to have a family?  Those are questions to talk about later.  I want to talk about the third point-- about how my life is incomplete and unfulfilling as it is.  That's impossible.  I'm a teacher, and tomorrow is the first day.

Teachers don't always have it easy.  We get evaluated based on not only our performance, but also on how well our kids perform.  We teach what we're told to teach, sometimes in the way that we're told we must teach it.  We go to work early and go home late.  We buy materials for our kids using our own money.  We're criticized in local newspapers when our students don't progress at the rate non-teachers think they need to progress.  We stay up late thinking of ways to help those students do better next time.  We work on weekends, vacations, and even over summer break.  And, on top of all that, we deal with real little people who have real issues and personalities to pile on top of our already demanding workload.  And we do it all while only taking one bathroom break everyday.

I love my job, though.  We all know that teachers don't do what they do for the money.  There is no money.  Most of us aren't even in it for recognition or appreciation-- the thought doesn't even cross our minds.  We teach, because it's important.  It's purposeful.  For me, especially not having kids of my own, I can't think of a better way to spend my time.

Yes, it's hard.  It's extremely hard.  Just ask my mom:  She's the one who has to hear me sob on the phone whenever the going gets tough.  Seriously.  I never cry.  Unless one of my students is hurting, whether it be academically, physically, or emotionally.  With 25+ kids from year to year, that's a lot of emotion to juggle.  But it is so worth it.

Just last night we had our annual back to school BBQ.  It's hard to contain myself when old students stop by to see me.  "Hey, Miss," they say, "I wish you could be my teacher again."  Or, "Thanks, Miss, for helping me like math.  I'm really good at it now."  I especially love it when they tell me of their successes and aspirations.  For example, one of my former students told me last night how much she loved the SCUBA lesson I set up for her to take.  She wants to be a marine biologist:  When she's a leading expert on Shark Week, I'm sure I'll burst into tears of pride, knowing that I paid for her first SCUBA lesson.  That's a big deal-- not because of me.  Because of her.  It's always about the kids.  If I can help these kids reach just a portion of their potential, or if I can help them see that they set the boundaries of their potential, then I've done my job.  And I don't get to just teach that to a few of my own kids.  I get to teach that to 27 (or so) kids.  Everyday.

If I were a selfish person, I would agree with those who say that I'm incomplete.  But, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that my life has very little to do with me.  When I try to help my students be (not just do) their best, I find that--in turn--they challenge me to be my best.  I can't wait to start again tomorrow and see what kind of lessons my students will teach me this year.

I'm born to do what I do.  I love what I do.  AND, I get paid to do it.  So, no one can convince me that my life is without purpose.