A friend of mine just sent this to me, and it reminded me of something I wanted to post about anyway…
WHAT TEACHERS MAKE
The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life. One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education. He argued, “What’s a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?”
He reminded the other dinner guests what they say about teachers: “Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.”
To stress his point he said to another guest; “You’re a teacher, Susan. Be honest. What do you make?”
Susan, who had a reputation for honesty and frankness replied, “You want to know what I make?
“I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could. I make a C+ feel like the winner of the Congressional Medal of Honor. I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall in absolute silence.
“You want to know what I make?
I make kids wonder.
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write.
I make them read, read, read.
I make them show all their work in math and perfect their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you have the brains, and follow your heart, and if someone ever tries to judge you by what you make, you must pay no attention because they just didn’t learn.”
Susan paused and then continued. “You want to know what I make? ‘I MAKE A DIFFERENCE.’ What do you make?”
When I was in fifth grade, I had a teacher that I absolutely adored. She was interesting and fun and everything that a great fifth grade teacher should be. One day, I got some catalogs in the mail that were clearly “teacher” material. I brought them in to show my teacher.
“Maybe it means I’m supposed to be a teacher when I grow up,” I beamed.
She laughed. “You’re too smart to be a teacher.”
And that little throwaway comment might have squashed a dream…might have…but instead, it just put it on hold.
After I graduated from college with my communication arts degree, I went back home and worked for a daily paper. I liked being a reporter okay, but I never felt like I belonged there. I never felt like it was what I was *supposed* to be doing. I didn’t have the drive, the hunger. I was (and still am, I think) a good writer, but never a great journalist. I just didn’t have it in me.
One day, when I was in the high school, I bumped into my most favorite teacher ever, Mrs. L. She asked me what I was doing and what my plans were, and I told her that I was thinking about back to school for teaching certification.
“Oh, you’d make a wonderful teacher,” she said.
So thank you, Mrs. L, for being a wonderful teacher and a wonderful friend. Thank you for making a difference.
