In eighth grade I had a teacher who first introduced my peers and me to slam poetry. One of the first videos he showed us, I can still remember today. It was a video on YouTube of Taylor Mali’s poem “What Do Teachers Make”. If you haven’t see it, Mali is a teacher at a dinner party with a lawyer who is making snide comments about teachers and asks what he makes. Of course, the lawyer is making a jab at salary, but Mali turns the tables on him. He explains that teachers make more than salary, they make a difference.This has resonated with me ever since.
Anyone going into any aspect of education has probably already been deterred by a concerned friend or parent that thinks teachers don’t make money. We've all heard their arguments, including, but not limited to:
Teaching salaries cannot sustain a comfortable lifestyle
Teaching is glorified babysitting
Teaching is for people with no real talent
You're wasting your money on a degree that only makes 40k a year.
We’ve all heard the reasons why we shouldn’t be teachers, but has anyone ever told us why we should? Why should we hold onto that desire and work 180 days a year, so some stranger’s kid can learn math? Why should we put in that extra time after school to meet with students and answer questions, when we could just go home and live our lives? Why should we suffer through parent teacher conferences to keep parents involved when the meetings can end up being so difficult?
The reason lies in the most important trait that future educators have: passion. Sure, teachers don't make as much as lawyers or doctors, but if we wanted to be lawyers or doctors, we'd do it, right? We choose to follow and pursue a career path that isn't just for the money. We have a drive to spend our time spreading knowledge and helping students to reach their full potential, so that maybe one day they will go on to choose their paths. We notice their progress and make them proud of it. We watch for changes in behavior that could save their lives. We teach to make a difference, not just a salary.