Thursday, April 9, 2009

I Really Am A Teacher

I really am a teacher.

Not that I didn't realize it before. I always knew that I was a teacher (and sometimes a parent, friend, mentor, adviser, coach, chaperon, gossiper, partner in crime...depending on the day, period, minute or second). However, I hadn't realized how much I had internalized what that means on a day to day basis.

Sure, my friends and I share stories about our days -- whether it is that we figure out how to teach somebody to understand what they are reading, had a kid shout out "MONGOL" at the top of their lungs for 10 minutes, try to calm kids down after a gun was found in the school, explained to little ones what a season is, or had a kid come up to you really excited because they heard that Obama was at a NATO conference (and you taught them what NATO was) -- but those are just school stories.

I realized at my family's first Seder (passover meal) how much of being a teacher has slowly started to infiltrate and influence my everyday life, kind of like an IV tap that so slowly send teacher juices into my veins, yet not enough at one time that I notice it.

As I spoke, I refused to continue until everyone at the table was quiet. As others read from the Haggadah (the story of passover), I got very uncomfortable if people were talking while others were reading. As I read through the additional readings, the first thoughts that popped into my head were, "is there any way I can use this in class?" And, in fact, I can; there is a reading about how the original seal of the United States was supposed to have a depiction of Moses leading the people across the Red Sea as they were fleeing from Egypt, just as the American colonists were fleeing the persecution of the British thrown. As my younger cousins were discussing their college tours, I could not think of their tours or college choices but rather I thought only of where my students would end up -- whether it was fair that my cousins (and myself) had had opportunities that they did not.

I thought to myself, more than anything the whole night, what Passover really means. We are told in the Seder, "Remember that you were once slaves in the land of Egypt," and that God freed you; to remember not just that you were once slaves, but that "you were once strangers in a strange land." I could not help but realize that what I want people in my life to realize more than anything is that they are privileged. No matter what. I have never had to sleep in a room with 5 of my siblings every night, come to class and write on the bottom of my test that I can't finish it because "I'm too hungry," missed school because I have to act as a parent and walk my siblings to school, or work 30 hours a week to help my parents pay the bills.

That is what Passover is telling us: Remember that what you have, you did not always have, and that there are others in this world -- across the country, around the corner, or across the bridge -- that are still waiting for their own redemption. You are privileged.

It amazes me that even my students understand this about themselves. They understand that they are privileged in their own way -- that there are people worse off than they are. They say it. Whenever we discuss a time in history in which people had their rights oppressed, they go into discussions about how bad it is for those people...or how their lives are so much better than those in the Great Depression. I hope that others can learn from their example in understanding what privilege is, and what it means.

That is what passover is about.

3 comments:

Emily Pearl Goodstein said...

i loved reading this and am so proud of you and the work you're doing! happy passover to you and keep these great posts coming.

shmuel421 said...

Thanks! I'm glad someone follows what I write...Hope things are well.

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