I never wanted to be a teacher. Nearing the end of high school, I remember a friend’s parent suggesting that I could be one and I secretly felt highly offended. I loved school (even dreamt of one day running one, still do – a story for another time) and respected my teachers so I was not too sure why I felt demeaned by the statement.
Fast forward to college, I heard stories of how in some provinces a student who wasn’t academically strong would be encouraged to take a teaching degree. It doesn’t make sense but to be blunt, their reasoning is if you’re not smart, just be a teacher.
Perhaps I’ve heard whispers of this thinking and maybe it’s why teaching as a profession never entered my mind until my last years of university. But in many ways, I’ve always been a teacher and I’ve always loved it.
I remember stealing chalk from the classroom so I could use it for play at home. I would write on our timber walls and teach to an imaginary class.
With other friends, I would sometimes play ‘school’ after school and we’d even make our own schoolwork modelled after lessons and activities from the day.
To prepare for quizzes and tests, I’d organise games with classmates during recess or lunch. And I loved being there for anyone who needed help with maths or an essay. I enjoyed other things too like being a member of the drama club and leading in the student council but coaching others through schoolwork was definitely a big part of my school experience.
It’s fair to say that from the start, the God who made me has been preparing me for a life of teaching.
So why all this nostalgia?
Tomorrow marks my first year of sharing some of my teaching thoughts on this beloved little blog, Little Scratch.
‘Learning to be a better teacher’ has been the tagline from the beginning, nothing new or revolutionary as every good teacher always wants to keep growing. After a year of blogging and more than five years of professional teaching (first secondary, tertiary then primary), I’m still learning to be a better teacher.