Classroom Rebel becomes Teacher's Advocate

The title says it all. Growing up, I was convinced I didn't like school and school didn't like me. Then, I became a teacher.

Looking back, I'm wondering; is this really the truth I want to settle for?

Too many people share the same story. The story that tells how people don't fit in their environment and end up hating their whole journey through education or, in the worst cases, they drop out. It's the same statement we have all hear at least once. We're agreeing with each other on how the system failed them, failed us, and how it bullied us through and through for years. Don't get me wrong, I'm not judging those who are actual victims of the system and for whom, this story is unfortunately too real. Only, I'm second-guessing my own story and deciding that, I don't want it to be mine anymore.

As far as I can remember, I've always heard my mother say that: "Icried so much the first two months of school, she had to bring me back home for a few more weeks and change school for me to settle in." It stayed with me. I don't know why, it just kept coming back like a voice in my head telling me: "see? From the begining, you weren't made for this." I weigh my words when I tell you: be thoughtful of what you tell your children, even at a very young age.

I spent twenty years or so in school. First in kindergarden, then primary school, highschool and finally, college. To be honest, the only good moments I can remember from all of these years are the few friends I made along the way and that are still very good friends today. I'll also mention one or two teachers that made a difference but, that's it. Note that I wasn't one of the difficult kids we hear about, I wasn't special either. Just average, lost in the crowd. I wasn't seeing the point and was convinced that I wasn't smart enough anyway so, why bother? 

Teachers will tell you that they're overworked by the system and that they can't deal with the size of the classes. That the curriculums are too demanding and the students' level and engagement is dropping years after years. All of that is true. But I can't help and think to myself that there's a human factor we should take into account behind all of this. What if, we were kinder to each other? What if we really did take the time to talk with the students and the teachers? What if, we'd give teachers more freedom in the way they teach? What if, we'd give them more time to actually stop and help out students that need the help and attention? I don't have the  answers to those questions but what I know is that I don't want education to become an in-and-out experience lacking human contact, devoid of laughter or of open-mindedness and understanding. In my humble opinion, education and knowledge starts with love. The love to share, the love to learn for yourself and then, to help others grow up and open their world to new ideas, new cultures and languages. Education is compulsory because it makes us better, better humans living among other beings.

Did my teachers teach me that? Unfortunately, no. I taught myself how to be a better person and I'm glad I did but I'm not sure everyone would do the same and, in fact, looking at what's going on in the world right now, I strongly doubt it. Were my teachers helpful? Again, no. Even when they knew that I had problems at home, that maybe, I would have liked someone to talk to. Did my classmates help out? Well, some of them did or tried to but I will admit, at the time, I'm not sure I really wanted their help anyway. To be perfectly clear,  I understand now that, what I thought was a common problem when I was younger, was a deeply rooted and very personal issue. I thought school didn't like me, I thought students and teachers didn't like me but the truth is, I didn't like me and I became my first bully.

I know it's a tough statement and, once again, I know it only applies to me.

For years, I convinced myself that I had difficulties talking with people, that I wasn't tall enough or pretty enough or smart enough to be accepted among those I was looking up to. I know now that I bullied myself for not fitting in when actually, no one around me was forcing me to do anything, nobody said anything before I did. I had the first word. I threw the first rock at myself and watched others join in cheerfuly. Then, when I eventually was covered with bruises, I blamed them for it. I was mad at myself and it took me over a decade to undersand that anger. Yet, 'till today, I'm not sure I fully comprehend where it comes from or how it started. I'll have to keep working on this one.

But let's talk more about how I ended up being a teacher - ironic, right? Well, the least I can say is that it wasn't planned. The only explanation I could find was that having such as disappointing experience with education myself, my main goal would be to do the exact opposite of what I had known in the past. That's a very common way to react, not suprising at all nor creative in any way. But, breaking the circle felt like a good path to follow so, I started walking. 

I'm exhausted after each day of work as I try my best to create a safe environment for students to be themselves. I work my a** off to ensure that I bring interesting topics to class and spend hours in books to open my own mind to new horizons. I strive to enhance my critical thinking to convey diverse perspectives and deeper analysis in each class. Every lesson is a debate and every debate is another opportunity to understand the world better. That's what's giving me life, that's what's making me proud of myself: students being engaged and furrowing their brows as they're thinking hard about whatever question I just asked is my new dopamine provider.

Maybe I finally understood that what made me feel so different in the past, is actually the reason why some people are coming to me now. I've listened to my students, I understood them, I took the time, I tried to be empathetic but still, to stay objective and professional. I did my best to bring them comfort, fun and the few pieces of knowledge on the world I could gather along the way. Did I make mistakes? Yes, of course. But I did my best. I gave it all. I have regrets but I don't have any remorse.

I still make that dream sometimes: I go back to my old school for some reunion. The kind of event we see in the movies. Former classmates and teachers gathering one more time, twenty years later, having a drink and figuring out what everyone has become. I'm there, with all of my former classmates. The ones I liked and the ones I didn't. Some of my teachers are here as well. They ask me how's my life, what I do now and if I'm still around. I tell them no, I moved far away.

Most of the time the dream parts from here in two different versions: either I'm making a speech in front of the crowd or, I just talk to the few guests around me. The setting changes a bit but the speech stays the same. I've managed to write it down for you:

"For a very long time, I was angry. Angry at you. Angry that you wouldn't recognize how smart I could be and all the potential I had. I was angry because being a student in this school forced me to become meaner in order to survive. I was angry that none of the adults I turned to when I was helpless, wouldn't listen to me and help me without questioning my word. I was angry that no matter how hard I worked, my efforts weren't ever good enough.

It took me years to understand that being angry with you all, wouldn't help me get better. I don't need you or your approval anymore. I don't need you or your friendship nor your support anymore. I made my own choices, I started my life away from you and you, forgot about me the moment you saw me leave this place. But I, kept on thinking about you. I held these memories and with them, the anger, for too long. 

So, I'm letting you go. Just like you let go of me. I forgive you but more importantly, I forgive myself. I forgive myself for forcing me to be someone I wasn't and I didn't want to be just to please you. I forgive myself for wasting so much time, energy and money on trying to be like you. I forgive myself for hoping endlessly that one day, you'll see and listen to me. I forgive myself for expecting you to take care of me when I should have cared for myself. I forgive myself for convincing me that you shared my darkest thoughts on me when you didn't.

I needed a lot of things and none of these things you gave me but nor did I provide for myself either. I failed me before you did. And I forgive us. I'll still ask one thing of you, and this time, please hear me out: listen to those who'll want to talk to you. Listen to those who'll gather the courage to face their demons. Listen to those who'll ask for your help because they trust you.

Only then will I be able to tell you thank you."