You want to be a teacher?

 I could tell you how I always knew I wanted to be a teacher. My dad was a teacher, and I helped him grade papers when I was probably too young to be helping. As I marked multiple-choice questions, I tut-tutted the students who obviously hadn't studied for the test. My favorite author as a child, Laura Ingalls Wilder, was a teacher, and I had great visions of being just like her. By the time I was in second grade, I had taught three friends of mine who were immigrants from Czechoslovakia and Vietnam how to speak English. I don't remember ever being without a book in my hand, even at the end of the bench when I was part of the B basketball team in 7th grade. Let's be honest; I knew I wasn't going to play, so I thought I would read. Win-win if you ask me. Being a teacher has been a part of me for as long as I can remember. 

I could tell you how hard it was when I stopped teaching in the classroom. Trevor and I moved to Lexington after we got married, and I gave up a French program at BFMS that I had fought hard to save. Not only had I saved it, but the numbers were steadily growing. I had every intention of teaching in Lexington after taking some time to get to know my new home, and then two kids in two years happened and I was happy to be at home with them. Even though I was still teaching my children, I missed being in the hallways of a bustling school. 

I could tell you how excited I was to start a new chapter in education when I became a field supervisor for student teachers for Purdue University. Not only would I be in classrooms again, but I would be teaching teachers how to teach. I did that for five years until the pandemic made e-learning necessary, and I couldn't really visit schools anymore. I recently started working for Valparaiso University as a field supervisor, and walking into a school again made me feel like I was home. Sitting in classrooms for the first time and watching "my" student teachers work with middle and high school kids made my heart soar because I knew that there were good people who were still choosing to teach. 

I could tell you that I understand that parents want to know what is happening with their children's education, and well they should want to know. However, if parents think that HB1134 is the way to go, they're simply wrong. What this bill is going to do is cause teachers to quit in droves, and then the parents will complain when they're left up a creek. I can't think of another profession that would put up with being told to publicize a work plan months in advance. Let me tell you this: I'm a trained teacher, and I'm not arrogant enough to think that I know better than someone who has written curriculum for a modern literature class or someone who has a Master's degree in US History. I know a fair amount about education, but I sure don't know everything. I trust the people who know more than I do about their areas of expertise whether it be teachers, doctors, plumbers, lawyers, or mechanics. Anyone who doesn't know about state standards and curriculum doesn't need to be choosing what should or shouldn't be taught in a classroom. 

I could tell you that I have unwavering faith in our public schools and our teachers to do what is best for our students. If that means that they have to swerve away from a lesson plan to embrace a teachable moment, so be it. I have faith in my own children to take what they read, hear, and study and decide for themselves what is right. Trevor and I have worked hard to instill morals and values in both kids, and I trust them to stay true to who they are. Why bother doing all of the work just to shield your children from a world outside of your own home? I expect my kids to go out and make their own decisions and even their own mistakes. 

I could tell you that parents who oppose history curriculum or literature curriculum often have some issues of their own to work through that have nothing to do with what is actually being taught. One person or small group working to have a book removed from the curriculum that is allegedly offensive goes against everything we claim to have fought for as a country.  I remember my sixth grade teacher taking To Kill A Mockingbird from my hands and calling my mother to see if she knew I was reading it. (Apparently he had some strong feelings about me reading it at that age.) My mom just laughed and told him that she had given the book to me herself. If I had questions, I just asked her. She, you know, like, parented me. If more parents would sit down and have conversations with their children about certain topics or books, they might be less offended by something happening in a fictional world.

I could remind you that there are so many ways to be involved in your children's education. Look through their backpacks and ask them about their assignments. Become an observer on Canvas. Talk to their teachers. Watch their grades on Skyward. Volunteer in the classroom. Donate your time or money or baking abilities to the staff on special days. Vote for people who support public education. 

I will tell you that getting rid of HB1134 and any other bills that pop up like it is of the utmost importance to public education. The problem is that if you know, you know, and if you don't know, you're not likely to listen to me anyway. To the naysayers who think they deserve to see lesson plans months in advance, I issue you an invitation or a challenge: if you think you know so much about what should be happening in our schools, go teach. If you don't have a license, hit me up and I'll talk you through different transition to teaching programs. Not willing to do that? Take a good, hard look at yourself and leave education and policy to the experts.