Fifteen years ago, I gave up one career for another. I ditched the private office, parking space, expense account and expense-account lunches and traded up ~ for a yearly dose of up to 150 sometimes smelly, always loud & quite unpredictable & indefatigable teenagers.
Yes, I'm a high school teacher. I've written about my mid-life career change in this space before. Inspired by my high school journalism teacher, I took on one of the more offbeat & angst-causing of professions. Part Mom, part instructor, part adviser, part mentor, part arbitrator, part confessor, part custodian, part dictator.
Every morning, despite the fact that I'm up to my ears in cherubs who often care much more about feeding their faces at lunch than working hard to make a tight deadline & uptight administrators & often out-of-control parental units, I breathe deeply when I open the door to Room 215. The slightly sour scent of unwashed PE uniforms, moldy carpeting and a lunch that's been sitting on the back table since last Tuesday is a large part of what brings me back, day after day, year after year, halfway thru my 2nd decade.
Best job I've ever had, hands down. And that endorsement comes from a woman who's been around the block, more than once. The kids have energy ~ no matter how sometimes misguided ~ & enthusiasm, no matter how off the charts their inane chatter & random their errors. The journalistas keep me young, even when I'm having trouble keeping them in line.