I don’t want to be a teacher. I’ve done a lot of thinking on this since I initially claimed I did at 14 years old. My passions lie elsewhere, somewhere that working with students simply would not indulge. Don’t get me wrong, I am going to be. I’m in my sophomore year of college, and have invested too much time and money into it to not go through with it. I am trapped in this profession.

I am not angry that I will be a teacher. I’m actually quite good at the whole business. 4 or so years of experience are under my belt, and if I wasn’t good at it, I would not have pursued it in the first place. I need to clarify that to say I will not be a bad teacher. I am not spiteful towards students, and I believe that education is the most important thing, generally speaking. I will be a good teacher, regardless of my personal qualms with the profession.

I originally came up with the idea of being one at the age of 10. I was in a 5th grade class within the gifted education program. The teacher, we’ll call her Jane for this, was a very angry woman. She hated a majority of the students, with a preference for those whose parents had any power over her. Jane did want to be a teacher, if only to have power over someone. I do not pity her, to be honest. She was a disgrace. She spoke about both her hatred and infatuation with Donald Trump to us, the latter much worse than the former, as it often diverted into a romantic lens, which is only one example.

Another thing that I found disgusting about her was her policy on fallen items. We had this closet at the back of the room that was large enough for multiple students to enter. The backpacks and coats were stored there during class time. She had a policy that she would keep any item that had fallen onto the floor, as she hated a mess. This was both a terrible rule, and illegal on its own. It only got worse when she had the child of one of the school board members go into the closet and take coats and backpacks off the hangers at random, sparing her preferred students. There were many times my friends and I were sent into snow without anything to keep us warm.

All of that to say, I was very spiteful towards her. She had told me, specifically, that I would not succeed in life, so an idea brewed in my little head. If I were to become a teacher, and do better than her, I would have shown that I not only would amount to something, but I would be better than her as well. I shared this musing with my mother a few years later. She was overjoyed that I had found something realistic to work towards, in her point of view.

The spite cooled off, however, and I enjoyed the job for a while. I worked with a family friend, who taught at the same school as Jane, and she made the whole thing seem quite fun, even with the blatant disregard for the rights and health of students I witnessed in that building. However, freshman year of college came and went, and I found myself losing the spark for it. I did not do a bad job, but I wasn’t leaving with the same feeling of accomplishment. But the drive was still there, so I continued.

If I could change my major, I would go into zoology. It is the only thing that I’ve continued to want to work in since I discovered it at a young age. I love working with animals.

Becoming an educator will have its hurdles for me. Glaringly, I am a trans woman. In the current political climate of my state, and the world as a whole, I may never be able to truly be myself in my profession. The thought terrifies me on the daily. Perhaps there will come a day I can be.

Return to Blog Menu