What do you want to be when you grow up?

A friend of mine, and former co-worker, called me last night to inform me of a position opening up at her school. It's as a kindergarten teacher in a private, year-round setting. Basically it is exactly what I do now, only the kids are a year older, the pay is a little better, the hours are way better, and the co-workers have a better reputation.
Take it, Nancy, Take it! Jump on the opportunity!!!
It is a pretty high compliment to receive a phone call like that. Not only does it indicate that people want to work with me (a thing I have not been feeling lately) but it indicates that someone who really knows my style thinks that I am good a what I do (another thing that I have not been feeling lately.)
So what are you waiting for? Why aren't you using this post to tell us that you have a new job?
I considered it. And then I had a sudden thought. If I really wanted it, then why did I have to take the time to consider it? Clearly it is a better situation than the one I am in now. So why the excuse "let me think about it" instead of "yes, yes, yes!"? So I pictured myself at this new opportunity. I pictured the kids and the classes and the lessons and the good times with co-workers and the better hours and I realized something. I realized something great and terrible and earth shattering and frightening and humbling and soul-rending and ....
I don't want to be a teacher when I grow up.
And here I am, a grown up, and a teacher.
It's not just that I resent cutting things out and sounding out words and training meetings about creative ways to arrange your furniture and teaching morals instead of structure and arithmatic and coming home at the end of the day covered in blue glitter. I do resent those things. But even more than that, I resent the entire education system. I resent the parents that do so little for their children, they force public and private school teachers to teach social skills instead of academics. And since we spend all of our time trying to teach their child that yelling, whining, and slaps across the face are not effective forms of communication, we have to rely on the parents to teach the kid how to write his name. It's all I can do, at the end of the day, to stop myself from speaking my mind. I make myself look incredibly busy so that I don't actually say to a parent "If you and your spouse communicate with each other the way you have taught your child to communicate with the world around him, then I recomend either a marriage counselor or a divorce lawyer, before it affects this child any more than it already has."

And yet, the day I actually speak up, it could do more good for the kid than my attempting to counterract his parent's behavior already does. If only I could speak up and keep my job.

But it's not even limited to the education system that has me hesitating. Teaching is exhausting. I've worked the desk job. I spent days reconciling accounts in the millions of dollars and searching for the single missing penny. My eyes have hurt at the end of the day from staring at the computer screen, my brain has been so wearied of running numbers that the numbers continue to dance and mock me in my dreams. But those things weere nothing compared to the utter exhaustion at the end of a day of teaching. It is physical exhaustion, with aching feet and whiplash from constantly scanning the area for stray children and getting up and down off the floor and running and chasing and rescuing and dragging. It is mental exhaustion, from trying to come up with answers to ridiculous questions like "why do otters swim" to trying to figure out what 5 books to fit with the theme "solar system" for next weeks lesson plans. All without the aid of internet (can't access it while there are kids in the classroom, parents don't approve) or decent resources (like teachers or schools can afford any of the books out there that are published by other underpaid teachers hoping to earn an extra buck). Most of all, it is emotionally exhausting. Anyone who has ever been on stage might understand this. As a teacher you are playing a role, for 8 hours, pretending to be someone that is pretty close to yourself, but closed off to the parts of yourself that might be the slightest bit selfish. You maintain a character for 8 hours that is always happy, always ready to listen, always interested in the most minute details, always offering the most positive spin on a situation, always vigilant of everyone else's feelings and above all else, always always always has that cheerful edge to her voice. You know how exhausting it is to wait for the kid with the stutter to finally tell you that they have a teddy bear at home? Now imagine that it's friday afternoon, you've listened to it for 39 hours this week, and he has to tell you the exact same phrase for the nine hundred and fortysecond time, and you had better listen and respond, or he will grab your face and start over again. Now do it with a smile. Go on. Most of us get bored when our friends try to tell us a story they've told us once before. Now imagine that the story has no plot and no punch line and no bearing on your life whatsoever, and listen to it 83 times with a smile on your face. Even the cutest kids are only cute the first 42 times.

It doesn't matter how much you pay a teacher, they are always underpaid. And by the time the weekend rolls around all you really want to do is talk about yourself for a few hours and maybe make a few mildly inappropriate jokes and then have a grown up conversation that has absolutely nothing to do with children. It could be about taxes or movies or religion or politics, it doesn't matter, as long as no one is asking you which private school they should dump their child at next year. And yet, it could be about taxes or movies or religion or politics and you would find that the teacher in you has an opinion about it that will be expressed, and you will be the one that brings the conversation back to kids because in fact they are your passion and you really do care which private school they end up at next year.
And you are underpaid but you go back and teach anyways, because you are good at it and because "it is its own reward". Whatever that means.
Wait, I'm confused. If you want to teach, then teach.
No! I don't want to teach! It's exhausting to care that much.
Then don't teach. Do something else.
Teaching is the only profession I really know I am good at.
Well, learn a new skill, take a few risks. You have no responsibilities but yourself. Surely as one of the lucky you can afford to go back to school and do something new.
It's not that easy. I'm a teacher, I can't just throw money at school hoping to find out what I really want to do, and I don't know what else I can do. Or might want to do. Or even try.
Well, what did you want to do as a kid?
As a kid, I wanted to do 3 things when I grew up.
I wanted to go to BYU.
check
I wanted to be a missionary.
check
I wanted to sing in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
Still to come, but that's not a job. Weren't there any jobs you wanted?
Yes. I wanted to be a teacher.