Why I Teach

This is the week I get paid. No, there have been other weeks this semester when the college where I work has deposited money in my bank account. But this is finals week, when I receive the biggest payment of intangibles; this week, more than any other, is when I'm reminded why I love teaching.

Finals week payments have included:

• "This is the best grade I've ever gotten in a math class!"
• "You and prime factorization been such a blessing to me." [Such august company!]
  
• "I learned more this semester than I learned all through high school."
• And the always popular, "What are you teaching next semester?"

Now, I'm not trying to convince others that they should go into teaching. It is mostly a thankless job with a lot of frustrations (even at the college level), and low pay (especially at the college level). When the next semester starts in a couple of weeks, I know I'll have full classes the first week. The second week those who are just there to meet their welfare requirements or get student aid (return the textbooks and keep the money) will stop showing up forever. Others will slowly realize that this is no longer high school, so attendance isn't compulsory and they'll slowly fade from view.

Before the first test I'll hear disappointment if I don't tell them exactly what's on the test. And that ever-present, thoughtful, oh-so-helpful test prep question will make its first appearance for the semester. "How many questions will be on the test?" Followed by my equally helpful answer: "All of 'em."

After the first test I'll get a wave of requests to take the test late because Grandma just died (always Grandma) or the kids had to be rushed to the hospital. I used to ask for documentation in these cases, which I never got. But I've found that the path of least resistance is simply to offer my sympathies and ask them to make arrangements to take the test in another class before the absolute deadline, only about one in ten will follow through. The first test also brings a drop in attendance from those students who didn't take me seriously about the amount of time needed to succeed in math. Then in math classes there are the ubiquitous whines, "Do we have to do it this way?" And my response is, "No. They'll be offering this course again next semester."

Some of my classes start out with a review that lasts a couple of weeks. There are students in these classes who complain about being bored, then don't show up again until the first test, which they barely pass. Feeling they've hit on a good plan, they disappear for four weeks until test 2, which they fail with breath-taking displays of ignorance. Then I'll never see them again.

The week before finals brings another surge of e-mails from students who've missed more classes than they've made, neglected the on-line homework and quizzes and suddenly realize that they're going to fail. Will I kindly unlock their late assignments so that they can finish them? No. "But that's not fair. After all, I decided to care at the last minute."

But, as with so many things in life, if you choose to focus on the negative, the only success you'll have is in making yourself miserable. I choose to dwell on those students who've really worked hard to succeed in class. And all of my complaints pail when compared with the joy of seeing a student who has done well in a math class for the first time since elementary school, or made great progress with math anxiety or test anxiety. When I see them around the campus next semester (whether they've got me for a teacher or not) I see them standing straighter, their heads held higher.