What's My Line?By Adam Palmese, Ed.S., NBCTWhat was I thinking?
I was always an excellent student. Could’ve been anything: a scientist, a lawyer, an astronaut, a chef, even President of the United States. For a time, when I was younger, I really wanted to become a pediatric dentist. I could pull teeth, pass out toothbrushes, and help children who were in pain.
Life, though, never seems to deal me a winning hand. I am often stuck with a pair of twos when I am looking for a royal flush to win. As Lady Luck would have it, I ended up in a profession that I never expected, one that often makes me wonder if am playing with a full deck.
What card did I draw? The Knave. I am a teacher.
That’s right. Voted “Most Likely to Succeed” in high school, the same guy that everyone thought was going to “Make it Big” has been a public school teacher for the past twenty years.
What was I thinking?
I could’ve been rich, you know. Filthy rich. Could’ve had more money than Donald Trump. Just imagine -- a summer mansion in Palm Beach, a fully loaded fifteen-car garage, exotic cruises around the world. Gets me lightheaded just thinking about it.
I could’ve been famous, you know. A superstar. Could’ve been interviewed by Katie Couric on the Today Show, chatting about this and that. Just imagine -- dodging rabid autograph hounds, greeting legions of gushing fans, basking in worldwide recognition. Yes sir, Mr. Palmese. Right away, Mr. Palmese. Anything for you, Mr. Palmese. Sounds great, doesn’t it?
Why then, did I trade fame and fortune for anonymity and suburbia? Why did I pick piles of ungraded math papers over stacks of one hundred dollar bills? Why am I refereeing hordes of troubled, disrespectful students instead of reveling in the adulation of devoted fans?
What was I thinking?
Fame and fortune can’t be anything like the life I live. Fellow teachers once labeled me a racist when I broke up a knife fight between eight-year-old, multi-ethnic students. A vengeful little girl once claimed that I beat her in front of the whole class when she didn’t hand in her homework. You see, the young “lady” didn’t receive a sticker on our classroom homework chart and wanted to “teach me a lesson.” Lesson learned.
In my career, I have been trampled by children in the hallways, my tires were slashed five times, and one parent even threatened to “kill me dead” if I dared to fail her daughter, although the child did absolutely no classwork and threw a chair at my head. I’m sure that the child had a perfectly good reason to throw her chair at me. After all, I did ask the seven-year-old if she enjoyed spending her weekend with her family. Oh, and I was “strongly encouraged” to promote the youngster to the next grade, to avoid any further “trouble.”
What were they all thinking?
Some mornings, I wake up aching with my students’ psychological wounds and bruises, much like a disoriented soldier rousing in a field hospital, praying that I’ve suffered enough to earn the Purple Heart and won’t have to return to battle.
Dr. Honeycutt? Dr. Pierce? Is that you laughing over my bed, martinis in hand, sarcastically joking at the seeming futility of it all? Sirens wail overhead. The doctors drop their glasses. More incoming wounded, more casualties need treatment. Will the battle ever cease? My alarm clock flies across the room, smashes against the wall. The wailing stops and is replaced by music.
Onward Christian Soldier, marching as to war…
What am I thinking?
To survive, I must be positive. I know I’ve helped hundreds of At-Promise students expand their minds and get excited about learning. I’ve taught my pupils (and their parents) how to read and write, how to add and subtract, how to keep their bodies healthy and safe, and how to be considerate and responsible.
Nevertheless, I often wonder if it’s too late to pursue a career in pediatric dentistry. After all, I do have some experience in the field. I sometimes feel like I am pulling teeth when I am teaching, trying to instruct students who are unwilling (or unable) to learn, every lesson an extraction of agony.
During Dental Health Month, I have passed out toothbrushes, too. Once, a yellow-toothed nine-year-old thanked me profusely for his new toothbrush -- his first one ever. Thank you, Mr. Palmese. I always wanted one, Mr. Palmese. I “er-pre-ci-ate” it, Mr. Palmese. Sounds great, doesn’t it?
And rest assured, I am helping students who are in pain. Like a shot of Novocain, I may not make their troubles disappear forever, but while my patients -- my students -- are with me, I ease their suffering a bit each day as I do my job.
The job of an At-Promise teacher.
Now, what are you thinking?
Adam Palmese, Ed.S., NBCT, is the National Director for Center for Teacher Effectiveness. He presented at the 2010 At-Promise Conference. |
