What I want and what others want
It's just occurred to me, tonight, after a ride home with my favorite tow truck driver, Kevin, at University Towing, here in Lawrence, Kansas, who I love having conversation with every time he helps me out, that the one really serious mistake that I have made in my life and the lives of people in my life is never really paying enough attention to what I want and what others want.
I'm a teacher. I'm someone who has consciously chosen to subordinate my wants, for at least 40 hours a week - and more, when you count the 60-70 hour total work weeks I generally put in for this job - to the needs (and wants; and whines, bellyaching, brattiness, and otherwise maltreatment) of folks roughly between the ages of 11 and 21 (I teach grades 7-12).
And when I think about what my money won't buy relative to my peers or others who make way more money working my hours and with my ambition, I just often don't even want to think about what I might want because I can't have it anyway and I figure it would just make me miserable thinking about it too much.
Well, tonight, I realized that this can be kind of shitty attitude, sometimes. Because the truth is that it leads me to believe that my priorities of education and ambition and purpose and high-mindedness (and social studies, my subject area) are all something that other people value just as much as I do. When the reality is that most people like what they like, want what they want, and, often enough, I suppose, do what's best, at least after fucking it up some. Myself included. Myself included, that is, except for the fact that I don't necessarily think about what I want to buy or what I want to have or what kind of life I would want, per se, because I spend so much fuckin' time thinking about what everybody else wants and needs.
And I realized after Kevin's and my talk that, though I've given up any martyr complex about this fact of life, I still assume that people want my help, want my guidance, trust my priorities, want what I have to say, think, or offer way more than they really do and that everyone wants in life the things that I want in life. Which is not the case about 90% of the time once you exclude the obvious common aspirations.
Anyway. I'm giving that bullshit up. Including my inclination not to go get the things I want. I'm committed to teaching for a portion of my life (3 more years in Kansas, according to my scholarship obligation). I value the work. I value the kids. Some days I enjoy it. Some days I like the kids. But it's definitely worthy work and then, after my obligation is up, I can go do anything I want. I can go get my Ph.D. I can sign up for military service. And maybe then go sign up for a Ph.D., given the new G.I. Bill provisions, that G.I. Bill being the most important and most clearly purposeful and valuable legislation that has passed I think, in a very, very long time. I'm not someone who likes a lot of government or laws or tax-payer supported largess, as a rule, but that G.I. Bill sounds like a hell of an idea to me, not least of which because I might take advantage of it, if I take that direction in my life, a direction I've talked about for quite awhile, now, and keep getting dissuaded by friends and family. I can go write scripts, or do some acting, or direct or produce some movies. I can start up that singing career that I never took up. I can go write children's books or witty and insightful novels or maybe a newspaper column or whatever my heart may desire, in that regard. I can go get my M.B.A. and make a lot of money, somewhere (I'd probably do investments and try to figure out a strategy to beat Warren Buffet's brilliant investment strategy).
There's a lot of things I could do.
But, for now, I'll teach. And contribute back to every one of those amazing, generous, thoughtful, intelligent, and decent folks who taught me when I was a kid, no matter how much me or Mark Twain or H.L. Mencken or any of the intellectually lazy slobs who forgets and takes for granted everything that their teachers did for them.
I owe a lot of teachers a lot of time and energy that they put into me all these years with not nearly enough thanks and with too much grief and hardship. And so teaching's not a bad way to live my life for the next few years or so.
Anyway, as I was saying, I realized, today, that out of my frustration that I haven't really chosen a life where I can get what I want the way that other similarly ambitious and intelligent friends can, I think I've been imposing myself on kids and friends and family in a way that I know better than to do, haven't really meant to do, truth be told, and which is certainly not my best self.
The best part about this job at Cap City, where frustrations and conflict run high and academic learning can be slow and too often drudgerous, is that I have spent more time with folks who have told me why school really isn't so important to their lives - and not been half-wrong much of the time - than any time in a school setting in my entire life.
It's cured me of my myopia. My tunnel-vision that school and education means more than it does. School means a lot. Don't get me wrong. But this experience and my conversations with folks like Kevin and like a million of my friends - Carson, John, Sara, Melissa, my principal, Dr. Wurtz, our Dean of Students, Ken Brancachio, my cluster advisor and immediate supervisor, Jackie, and a million of my friends, family, colleagues, and people on the street that I meet and talk with - have taught me that there though most people will tell you that school matters and education is important, there are limits to how much it makes any final difference in their lives. They make the final difference in their own lives, is the message I hear from almost everyone I talk with. And I think they're right.
And, in school, my experience as a teacher tells me that each person in the room makes all the difference in the world. And they're all different. And they all matter and make a difference. No bullshit. No narry-phary teacher phony-baloney. The direction that a conversation takes or a class takes is completely dependent on the people involved in the class or discussion, teachers and students alike. If they're shitheads, the class or discussion will take a shithead direction. If they're decent and thoughtful people, the class or discussion will take a decent and thoughtful direction. There are plenty of both in schools and in life. And I like talking with all of them, at least for awhile.
That's the part I love about education. The part where we make contributions that make a difference and improve the lives of ourselves and someone else. What sucks about being a teacher, obviously, is dealing all kinds of sordid bullshit for not nearly enough money.
I don't care how many people say that the pay doesn't matter, it's a crock of shit. Of course teachers think it's bullshit that Bill Gates or Carlos Slim makes so much and they, no matter how good they are, get stuck with a pittance, in comparison. But there's nothing they can do about it and it matters more to them that kids get taught and their needs get met than it does to get all that shit and all those toys that they want just as bad as anyone else, of course. Teachers just get so used to saying they don't care because it really does matter more to them that the kids get taken care of. For most of them, at least. And that's why I admire this crowd, for all their faults. Them, and soldiers, and cops, and firefighters, and all sorts of modestly paid public servants who make our lives safer, more thoughtful, and better, no matter how much we may take that for granted. And until we find a better way to make sure they get paid better, teachers and all those other folks have to live with what we decide to give them. Half of my thinking on education policy comes from a commitment to teachers getting paid and treated as well as possible, for real and not out of some union or district propaganda line.
Anyway. I need to get to bed. I'm exhausted, and I have to wake up early tomorrow.
But what I realized, tonight, is that life and my life, in particular, would make much more sense and would be a lot better experience for me and for everyone else if I would pay more attention, and not less, to what I want and what other people want too. We're all better off that way, I think. All the repressed selfless bullshit aside.
What I could use, right now, is a girlfriend. And a trip to Europe. And a decent new car. And maybe a little house and some kids and a nice, quiet little life. And maybe direct a little film that's close to my heart. And maybe the Dixie Chicks singing at my wedding. Alright, maybe that's going a little far. But if Natalie Maines ever divorces that Adrian Pasdar fellow, she knows where to find me.
Love,
Ben