Why Do You Teach?

“Why do you teach?” is a question every teacher has heard at least once in their career.

The planning, obviously. The staff meetings. The endless futile paperwork demanded by various government bodies.

I jest. This is not another belligerent litany from a downtrodden workhorse. Yes, there are challenges, but all of the above pale into insignificance when I begin to answer the question.

We’ve just passed the summer equinox, the longest day of the year. The daylight stretches long into the evening, rendering previously punctual bedtimes sporadic and ineffectual.  The traditional end-of-year routines are in full flow.

Parents may be on the lookout for a gift for their child’s teacher. They may feel under pressure to get something fantastic – a Best Teacher mug maybe.

Teachers appreciate every gift they receive and still, years later, I am overwhelmed with the kindness shown by parents and children at the end of the year. However, one thing in particular sticks out in my mind when I think of end-of-year gifts.

It was simple, yet profound. Small in stature but awesome in intent. A card, with the simple message:

“Life is a journey and your words have been a guiding light throughout the year.”

Life is indeed a journey. Some journeys are long, arduous and draw every ounce of effort from the traveller. Some are short, fleeting and come to an end all too soon. Some journeys are taken independently, confidently, in search of exploration and adventure. Others are travelled in step with those around us, reassurance sought with every cautious step along the way.

Journeys can be scary. They can be fraught with danger at every turn. Some veer uphill at an alarming incline as the traveller fights wearily against the overwhelming desire to yield. Others are fortunate to be travelling down the incline, new paths popping up at every turn, each as profitable as the next.

Every journey is different, but they are never taken alone. Along each personal journey there are many encounters.

Your journey becomes intertwined in the winding paths of others’ lives. For some, this is a difficult transition. Your journey begins to affect others. Your actions create paths for yourself and others to explore.

Occasionally you take a wrong turn. The path becomes dark and worrying. The feeling of regret rises wildly around you and you begin flailing in the darkness in search of guidance.

Of a guiding light.

That guiding light comes in numerous forms. It can be the caring hand of a parent or relative, plucking you from the abyss of your folly. It could be the calming voice of a friend, beckoning you back on course. It may even be the words or actions of a teacher, those you thought were long deemed background noise.

So why do I teach?

While following your own path, you become aware of the journeys all around you. The twenty or thirty unique journeys that swirl around in your consciousness every day.

You see the child straining desperately against the incline and offer an alternative route to their next destination.

You see the child racing complacently down the incline and guide them to a more challenging route for their talents to thrive.

You see the child that has fallen so often that they no longer have the will to carry on. The apparent comfort of a downhill stroll summons them, but you usher them away from a path littered with a myriad of dangers and help them to find a way up the hill.

There is the child whose path is rockier than the rest, who longs to bound through the jagged rocks that delay their progress. You help them choose their path carefully through the perilous ravine.

Then, almost as fleetingly as theirs arrived around you, your path veers again. You are among a new web of journeys, all once again unique and challenging. These young people need new paths to follow.

Now and again you encounter on your journey someone whose path you have influenced.

The child who took your alternative route and made it to the top of the incline.

The child who made it even further down the road than they thought they could.

The child who pushed away from the dangers of the downhill stroll and never looked back.

The child who made it through the jagged ravine of their early path and onto smooth ground.

Our words are guiding lights in the journeys of lives, and, every now and then, a seemingly insignificant encounter reminds us that we too are guided by those in our care.

This is the reason I love my job.

That and the summer holidays, obviously.