My wife lovingly calls me Don Quixote–sometimes. In return, I call her, Sancha Pansa, which is not terribly intelligent or even smart, but, I do not pretend to be either of those as I approach middle age (first time I’ve admitted that. Did it quite well, no? No hesitation, just plunged right in with the middle age statement. I’ll have to work it into the conversation again later). The whole point of marriage is to find someone you can argue with at the drop of a hat then

I was reminded of Don Quixote. Here’s the quote:

My co-worker was frustrated over this today and asked me: “Why do we do this? Why do we choose this profession when we have abilities which would make us more money in other fields?”

The answer can be one of many, or several in combination. I have asked this question myself. When things are going well for you as a teacher, your students are doing their work, you’re fully engaged and humming along. There’s a dynamic tension in the air, commitment, easy humor, a sense of competence and determination. When things are going well, you have a clear course to follow, the Northern Star is your guide. You know it, the kids know it, everyone else knows it. You radiate self-confidence because you have clear direction.

When things aren’t right, you’re not sure where you’re going. You’re floundering, lost in the countryside or the jungle or the forest, or just stuck out in the middle of nowhere, wondering, agonizing over how you got to be here. You ask yourself, how in the world am I doing what I’m doing, and how can I find some place else to go? You’re afraid to do anything because it might be the step that propels you off the edge of the cliff in the dark, the first step into the quicksand that results in a slow, sinking feeling of despair. Yes, you are LOST (anyone watch the finale tonight besides me, BTW?). And while this ambiguity, this being lost is such a problem in the classroom, it is what is so thrilling as an administrator. You learn to get lost with confidence. Both experiences are valuable, useful, and don’t reflect the why.

That said, why did I teach? I taught because I believed I had something to share. I may have been wrong…I’ve met many folks who had something to share, but kept it to themselves. They hoard their knowledge, how puny it is over time, for who knows what reason. I’ve also met people who knew very little, yet gave it endlessly away. And, you know, it was the act of giving itself that was more valuable to me than their gift. It was the fact that they stood up, made the effort–that cost them–that taught me the lesson I needed to learn. I remember Brother McCarthy talking about Peru in high school history. Who the heck cared about the history…as a matter of fact, I read the book while he was telling boring stories in a thrilling way. But I knew he was a great teacher. He worked hard to tell us stories from his life, to share who he was and what he learned. I don’t remember the stories, the lessons, and heck, even though I made 100s on every test that semester, I don’t remember the history. What I do remember was the look in his wrinkled face, one finger raised in the air for emphasis, as he jumped off the stool at the front of the room. I miss him.

Why do we do this? We do it because it’s not what we have to offer that is of value to our children, it’s that we give of ourselves. In the end, 10-15 years from now, the high stakes tests will fade from memory. Their memory will remember the conversations had, how the stories were told, and what we did to help them survive the lunacy. If we fail in that, at the very least, they’ll know we cared enough about them to step into the arena, to face the giants… How do I know this? Well, that’s what *I* remember.

So, it’s appropriate that…I end with the words of a favorite song….

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go

To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far

To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march into Hell
For a heavenly cause

And I know if I’ll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I’m laid to my rest

And the world will be better for this
That one man, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star
Source

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Everything posted on Miguel Guhlin’s blogs/wikis are his personal opinion and do not necessarily represent the views of his employer(s) or its clients. Read Full Disclosure