"Those who can't do, teach."
I get it. I heard this often in the theater world-- usually about those teachers who tried to 'make it' in New York or Hollywood for years and ended up back in the Midwest teaching Shakespeare 101. The story of an artist who had to give up their dream for an income and the chance to still 'be close to it.' And yet, somehow, even though they had never 'made it,' my best teachers were still able to help me discover that Shakespeare is relevant to my life in this time and place, even with all those silly "wherefores" and whatnot. Plus, they were awfully invested in me-- I once had an acting professor sit me down and ream me out for half an hour when he could tell I hadn't prepared for a scene study. That same teacher broke down in tears after I gave a solid performance. No, many of my professors never performed on Broadway or published their screenplays. But I have to wonder...if teaching was a 'last resort'- why were they so good at it?
When I tell people that I teach English overseas I am sometimes asked if I am a traveler, a writer, a student. Yes. Yes, I am all of those things. I am them passionately, proudly, and wholeheartedly. But the question implies that I teach when I don't have something else- perhaps something better?- to do. And why would anyone teach when they could be doing?
My short, simplistic answer is that teachers are learners. When you teach your passion-- in my case, language-- you constantly explore, question, and evolve within it. It is the chance to fall in love with your interests over and over again, and see it from another's (realistically thirty others') perspective, to witness the joy in discovery and, sometimes, even transformation. When I began theater school, a professor warned me, "If you can see yourself doing anything else, you probably shouldn't pursue acting as a career." I worried in that moment, as I could see myself doing and being many things. But when I decided to become a teacher, it didn't mean I had to give everything else up. If anything, I was invited to carry everything I'd ever learned with me. Every book I'd fallen in love with, every song that swept me away, every conversation that had lit up my days-- they were all a part of making me a language teacher. Teaching did not limit my life, it opened it. Teaching did not mean I could not do-- though it did mean I would have to try hard not to do everything.
So, no offense to whomever coined that quippy phrase, but I will never believe that we teachers who never "made it" in our subject couldn't do. I think it just took us a little time to realize what we were meant to do... was teach.
I get it. I heard this often in the theater world-- usually about those teachers who tried to 'make it' in New York or Hollywood for years and ended up back in the Midwest teaching Shakespeare 101. The story of an artist who had to give up their dream for an income and the chance to still 'be close to it.' And yet, somehow, even though they had never 'made it,' my best teachers were still able to help me discover that Shakespeare is relevant to my life in this time and place, even with all those silly "wherefores" and whatnot. Plus, they were awfully invested in me-- I once had an acting professor sit me down and ream me out for half an hour when he could tell I hadn't prepared for a scene study. That same teacher broke down in tears after I gave a solid performance. No, many of my professors never performed on Broadway or published their screenplays. But I have to wonder...if teaching was a 'last resort'- why were they so good at it?
When I tell people that I teach English overseas I am sometimes asked if I am a traveler, a writer, a student. Yes. Yes, I am all of those things. I am them passionately, proudly, and wholeheartedly. But the question implies that I teach when I don't have something else- perhaps something better?- to do. And why would anyone teach when they could be doing?
My short, simplistic answer is that teachers are learners. When you teach your passion-- in my case, language-- you constantly explore, question, and evolve within it. It is the chance to fall in love with your interests over and over again, and see it from another's (realistically thirty others') perspective, to witness the joy in discovery and, sometimes, even transformation. When I began theater school, a professor warned me, "If you can see yourself doing anything else, you probably shouldn't pursue acting as a career." I worried in that moment, as I could see myself doing and being many things. But when I decided to become a teacher, it didn't mean I had to give everything else up. If anything, I was invited to carry everything I'd ever learned with me. Every book I'd fallen in love with, every song that swept me away, every conversation that had lit up my days-- they were all a part of making me a language teacher. Teaching did not limit my life, it opened it. Teaching did not mean I could not do-- though it did mean I would have to try hard not to do everything.
So, no offense to whomever coined that quippy phrase, but I will never believe that we teachers who never "made it" in our subject couldn't do. I think it just took us a little time to realize what we were meant to do... was teach.