#6 Educator = Jesus

I used to work at a Catholic school – I know right? Me, such a cynic….working at a school where every day starts and closes with prayer, and where teaching is referred to as a vocation, or rather “a calling”. Much to my surprise this “Mary” intense Catholic school grew on me and before I knew it, I had a little family away from home. I had even made a name for myself and helped to significantly develop the French program.

It was at this such Catholic school where I came to the conclusion that being an educator is similar to being Jesus. The story is that Jesus gave his life for the sins of man, right? And correct me if I’m wrong, but there’s literally a story where Jesus allows the common people to throw stones at him … is it while he’s on the cross? … who can remember …If you’re Catholic and rolling your eyes, no judgement please – my memory has been overworked and underpaid with memorizing verb conjugations, masculine vs. feminine, and imperfect vs. past tense. Anyways, while these idiots were throwing stones at him, he just stood there and took it. And later, when he rose again…if they asked for forgiveness, he forgave them. Garbage, right? Or utter brilliance? Letting the people realize the error in their own ways and accepting their pleas for forgiveness in the hopes of leading them down the right path…….hmmm this rings a bell or two…..

If you still can’t see the parallels between a teacher and the Son of God, here is an example of a daily / weekly conversation between me and a student.

me in my stern voice because I have one: “Please stop running, texting, swearing, yelling, pushing each other, climbing the walls, spitting, being rude, and the list goes on…….”

student : Oh wait. There’s no text here because THEY DIDN’T STOP running, swearing, yelling, pushing each other, climbing the walls, spitting, being rude etc.. Because they literally ignored the fact that an adult / a teacher was speaking to them. ……

me (internal monologue): “What the %$#&@(@) I SAID PLEASE.”

me (re-approaching the student ): ” Excuse me, did you hear me when I asked you nicely to stop _________? ”

student: “yeah.”

me : “So, why didn’t you stop?”

istudent: “Because my friend was ………..”. “Because my ass was on fire.” “Because…………………………………………………

me (internally questioning my career choice for the 5th time that day): “Why do you think it’s okay to ignore a teacher when they’re speaking to you and particularly when they’re asking you to stop doing something that is against the rules?” -In hindsight I realize how lame this sounds, but really, it’s in the heat of the moment and the only other thing that is coming to mind right now is “why the *&*^% do you think it’s okay to ignore a teacher….when they’re *&(*^*%&^g speaking to you?” Trust… sounding “lame” to a kid is much better than explaining to his or her parent why you used the F bomb twice in a sentence when speaking to their child. I have never had this discussion because I always use the lame sounding comments.

This asinine dialogue continues on in a similar manner for way longer than either of us want it to…..and basically ends with a quarter-ass apology (quarter, as in less than half). But, then two weeks later I invite this same small human ball of hormones to have a “let it out” lunch with me because I have lost my damn mind and clearly am just looking for triggers that will make my day even harder. And at this lunch, as we talk about his/her life and his/her drama and I listen intently and give amazing advice because not only am I a French teacher, I’m also a therapist and life coach. And suddenly it happens. I can see it in his/her eyes……….the light goes on and the little thought bubble practically appears out of thin air above their head. It reads, oh dang – she like cares about me and shit.

So let’s recap shall we? The kid who ignored me when I asked him/her to stop whatever-ing, who gave me excuse after excuse as to why he/she didn’t stop whatever-ing…and BTW each of those excuses was dripping with so much hormonal attitude and defiance, I could have filled a six-pack…….only quarter-assed apologized to me. And then a little while later, in the name of “rapport building”, “restorative practice”, and other various educational buzz words, I sacrificed (yes, that’s right….like a lamb or something..) my lunch period to break bread with him/her.

Also it should be noted and perhaps even highlighted that none of this interaction has been done in French – you know the thing I actually have a degree in and that I was hired to teach? In fact, in whatever amount of time has passed between my initial conversation and the lunch invitation, I have thought of little else…which means my French lesson plans….merde, my personal life which I swore to be more mindful of….merde, my mothering skills…more merde, the “stuff” I’m supposed to be doing for my summative evaluation…merde. Have you gotten that “merde” means shit? Just checking.

Because you can’t be a teacher and not take this damn VOCATION home with you. No matter how many New Year’s resolutions you make to separate personal and work life, no matter how many positive mindset books or blogs that you read that encourage embracing your happiness and leaving work at work…….this is a job that comes home for 9 months of the year. This is a job that invades and overtakes for 9 months (kinda like a pregnancy; except no adorable pink infant at the end). This is a job that requires so much personal and emotional sacrifice, even though you may never see the fruits of your efforts.

And that is why Educator should always be capitalized, like Jesus. Because we let them throw metaphoric stones and we stand there and take it while offering them multiple chances to quarter-ass apologize and then later…a free lunch on our dime. Because even when every fiber in our being screams otherwise, we offer them love and acceptance and wine….no just kidding – that was only Jesus. However, when we witness the fruits of our labor and get an nice email from a student who is now in college, or an email from a parent thanking us for positively interacting with his/her child even after he/she acted like a total dufus, or OMG we actually see (with our own eyes!) a change in this midsize ball of hormones, we experience this feeling called “success” and say things like “it was worth it” and use heart emojis and I love my job hashtags on our social media posts. Then we go to work the next day and let the “stone throwing” recommence. I have another “let it out” lunch scheduled next week.