I Miss Teaching

I do. I miss teaching.

I know that now I am totally incapable of doing it—in a variety of ways. Although I’m a veteran of approximately forty-five years—and although I’ve taught 6th graders through college undergraduates—I know that, physically, the job is beyond me—especially in these Covid years. I so much admire the educators who are working in this viral environment.

But even if I were younger—and had my health from those years—I don’t think I could teach in a public school. And the reason is the same one I had when I retired from public school (the first day I was eligible—mid-January 1997): standardized tests. They have narrowed and constricted the curriculum so that teachers no longer have the liberating academic freedom that I had most of my career. I’ve seen its effect on our grandsons—and it ain’t good.

This is not to say we teachers were wild and crazy then (okay, sometimes we were), but the principals I worked for (and I worked for two wonderful ones at the middle school in Aurora, Ohio: Mike Lenzo and Jerry Brodsky) did their best to hire intelligent and creative people—of all sorts—and let us do what we did best.

Reigning us in now and then. When needed.

But I miss the interactions with kids, the things I learned from them, the things we were able to achieve—together. The plays I wrote (sometimes with them) and directed. The clubs I sponsored. 

Some of those students have become life-long friends—and thanks to Facebook for that.

Even though some of us have drifted (far) apart politically, I never argue with them. I don’t want to lose their friendship. And arguing about Trump or Biden is just not worth it—not to me. Not at my age. Not in my condition. I’d rather argue with the TV set—which, of course, is just about as effective!

Of course, I don’t miss all the paper-grading—and I had a lot (I was an English teacher). I don’t miss lunch duty—though it was sometimes lots of fun. I don’t miss having four classes in a row. I don’t miss having multiple preparations. I don’t miss having 30 kids in a class (or more!). Etc.

But I do miss—once they and I became accustomed to one other—the fun we had, the discoveries we made, the looks on their faces when I introduced them to something they didn’t think they’d like (Shakespeare!) but did. And on and on.

And I really miss the last day of school. We teachers all used to go out to watch the buses depart on the final day—to say good-bye to the kids—and, believe it or not, some of them were weeping.

As were some of us.