White Noise

Have you have had “that look” when you say you are a teacher?  You know, the one that looks down at you and wonders why you settled or what you could have been?  Have you ever heard, or even said the phrase “just a teacher”?  Has anyone ever said to you, jokingly but you know otherwise, “you must love the holidays”? Have you ever been asked if you are a teacher because you couldn’t get a real job?  Have you ever felt embarrassed to tell people what you do?   

I know you would have heard teacher bashing in the media, from politicians, from parents, from the community.  Let’s look at what the media often say; teachers need to be more accountable, teachers need to be more professional, teachers should be on performance based pay, our children are being failed by their teachers who are reckless and incompetent. The list goes on.  Or our politicians; get back into the classroom, we need accountability of all teachers, universities need to lift pre-service teacher standards, we are behind the rest of the world, we need to get back to basics. And then there is the parents who seem to double down on the theory of “I went to school once” and therefore know what needs to happen.

It’s not a wonder so many early career teachers leave the profession or burn out.  There are very few other professions with such high levels of arm chairs experts and critique. It seems that teacher bashing has become a national sport!  

However, let’s not despair with the negative but celebrate the amazing opportunity we have as teachers to change the world.  There is the age old saying “teaching is the profession that creates all others” and never has anything be more true.  But I see it more than that,  for being a teacher does not just mean I shape other professions but I am given the opportunity to work with young people and help shape the type of people they become.  I can recount so many stories of working with students and giving them the “aha” moment but, over twenty plus years, a few still sit firmly in my mind. 

I remember a parent meeting in 2004, when two parents met regularly with me about their young son  David*.  David started Year 7 a shy young man, who was a very adept singer and violinist.  But, puberty arrived for him with a vengeance and overnight David became, in his parents eyes, a monster!  He stopped talking to them, put the violin down and picked up the electric guitar. He formed a band with his mates and grew a school code acceptable epic fringe.  Naturally the parents blamed the school, the friends and me.  So a few meetings ensued.  Meeting one focussed on David not talking to them anymore; “he shuts himself away”. My advice was that it was Dad’s time to step up and take David walking, driving, play basketball together and David will open up.  Guess what!  David opened up and Dad found when out with David he would not stop talking about his new found passions.  Meeting two was the violin issue; “but he was such a beautiful player”. My advice simply was that he was still playing music and be it violin or electric guitar he was still gaining the same things, In that same meeting, “the band” was discussed.  Now the boys in that band were in my class, so I knew them well. They were great young men, so I advised the parents that that there were far worse things they could be doing than jamming together in each other’s garages. The parents saw sense.  This story ends so well.  Young David, now a fully fledged rockstar, making into Triple J’s unearthed and still today performing on the pub circuit around Australian.  David found his passion and although potentially small, I still find a massive sense of pride in helping him unlock his talent and find his thing.

Another  was easily one of the saddest and hardest moments of my career.  A young girl in my Year 8 Homegroup, Anna, was suffering a terrible time,  In Year 7 her mother had been diagnosed with cancer and she had an estranged father who wanted nothing to do with her. By the end of Term 1, Year 8, Anna’s mum was in a hospice and things were very bleak.  On Maundy Thursday night Anna rang and asked if myself and her Year 7 teacher could come to the Hospice.  She was alone, scared and upset and it was clear that mum was unlikely to make it through the night.  So I picked up her Year 7 teacher and we went via a petrol station to buy every type of chocolate and lolly we could get our hands on.  The next several hours in the Hospice were, ironically, the silliest of my career,  We laughed, cried, giggled, ate, chatted and generally put on a show.  A few times we were given “that look” from the nurses because of the noise, but everyone knew exactly what we were doing for Anna.  That night her mum passed away, and over the coming days, weeks and months the school rallied behind Anna.  Of course, the friends at school needed help to support her, and the funeral was so hard, but we all worked together through it.  Anna graduated Year 12 a strong, happy and confident young woman and that night remains one of the happiest and saddest memories of my career.  I know that night, we made a difference.

Will was a young man who arrived in my homegroup in Year 8.  He was shy,  nervous and quite awkward.  Over the five years in my care Will experienced a number of tumultuous events. At the end of Year 8 his best friend left the school.  The two of them were thick as thieves and the departure left Will quite alone and back to square one.  In Year 10 his family split and Will took it very hard.  But through looking after him, cutting him some slack, checking in regularly and being a constant presence Will emerged from Year 12 a caring, passionate and fine young man.  He became a true role model for the younger boys in the group and he always treated them with respect and as equals.  Will has gone on to study Dentistry and I know one day I would be more than willing to put my teeth in his care.

Elliot was a very confident young man;  assured, bright, charismatic, confident. But underneath Elliot was quite insecure and often felt weighed down by the burden of the expectation of others.  We spent many hours unpacking his stress, his worries, his insecurities and ensuring that the Elliot we all saw on the surface grew to be the same on the inside.  Elliot has huge ambitions for his future and he is already on his way there, deeply involved in the politics at his universtiy.  I have no doubt that one day we will see him in a significant leadership capacity in this country and when he is there, I will smile, knowing that in some small way I helped him on his journey.

Sometimes it can be the simple things. Never underestimate the moment when a student who lacks confidence finally, because of the way you explained something, now understands,  Or the time you have unknowingly smiled at a student who is having a bad time.  Or the moment, that you seemingly give an innocuous bit of praise but it means the world the student.  Perhaps even the time you ask a student how they are going and no-one has asked them that in weeks.  It could be the joke you make that no matter how lame, sticks with the student forever.  Everyday you are making a difference.
Now these, stories are not me trumpet blowing,  In fact, I’d rather say I played a tiny, small part in their lives and fade into the background.  But, my point is simple – no matter how big or how small, your role as a teacher changes lives.  You help shape young people in so many ways.  So next time you hear someone putting down the profession, you hear a politician teacher bashing, you hear someone say it must be so easy babysitting kids all day, smile to yourself and think about what they are missing out on.  Sure they may get paid more, have more prestige but its you that is making a difference both now and for the future, and that difference starts with one child.  Finally, remember wherever your students go, they will always take a little piece of you got them there.  So be proud when people ask you what you do, for you are truly in the profession that changes lives.

*student names changed