One of my favorite teachers, although I've never met her, is Mary Cowhey. If Mary (I feel like I'm a first name basis with her!) writes it, I will read it.
She is the author of
Black Ants and Buddhists: Thinking Critically and Teaching Differently in the Primary Grades. She's also written parts of several books written or edited by Sonia Nieto including
What Keeps Teachers Going and
Dear Paulo: Letters from Those Who Dare to Teach. I have been re-reading
What Keeps Teachers Going this weekend, as I have been wondering that question for the past month or so. I find that October is a hard month for me in the cycle of teaching. The days are getting shorter, summer is a distant memory. We (teachers and students) have settled in to do the hard, amazing, intense, joyful, work of the year. Long, long days are spent at school, and days are even longer when we bring home work after those days.
In October there are wonderful days when children make connections between what happens in our classroom and their lives (isn't that what it's all about?), when our classroom is compassionate, when someone has a new idea that leads us into an investigation totally unplanned. In October there are hard days when I think it seems like there was more conflict and frustration than anything else.
In
What Keeps Teachers Going, Mary Cowhey writes that "teaching is a way to live the world." I feel that. Most of the time, it is a wonderful feeling. Teaching has changed how I see the world. It has changed what I know about the world (the magnificent golden trim of monarch chrysalis, how to start a worm club, how to love an angry child, how wheat grows, how expensive lice medicine is) Teaching has changed how I act in the world (I am a better listener, I know the importance of anger, I am learning how to be more flexible and how to live more in the moment).
Nevertheless, I wonder how people continue teaching for their whole careers. I wonder if I will be one of those people (Heck, in October, I wonder if I will survive this year with my sanity intact). One of my favorite quotes is by Andre Gide who said, "One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time." This quote sounds reassuring in September when one is setting out on a journey, watching the shore fade into the past. Now that, in October, we're in the thick of things, I'm not so sure. I wonder if I have enough if myself, my soul, to give to teaching or if I have already given too much.