The field of education, particularly elementary education, would seem a natural harbor for idealists. The child's openness, natural hunger for guidance and for a meaningful connection with adults are, in principle, an opportunity for people with creative spark and the urge to give of themselves. The guilelessness of children should moreover make teaching a perfect fit for those who wish to avoid the worldly perils encountered in most workplaces. Surely, there is one profession where purity of intention is not a liability, but is instead a thing that that can fuel one's sense of purpose, and lead to eventual success.
I should say straight away that many creative and thoughtful people are successful career teachers. But I have seen many idealists founder in education, and the reasons for their failure are not always so simple as they may appear.
Actually, part of it is glaringly simple. The insurmountable discipline problems of many schools would be daunting even to the most hardened veteran teacher. It does not speak well of our society that for generations certain groups of students have been left to languish in schools that have been wholly unwilling or unable to establish student discipline sufficient for basic learning. In practice, the perceived rights of a student who chronically misbehaves are seen as equal to the right of other students to learn free of distraction. In many instances, schools offer endless due process to misbehaving students and are loath to bring meaningful punishment upon them -- regardless of how the classroom climate may suffer because of this chronic misbehavior. I would guess that if there were one reason above all others for so many teachers leaving the profession within 5 years of starting out, it would be because of their school's equivocal (and I think often cowardly) treatment of students who, for whatever reason, consistently frustrate the educational enterprise.
It is in a way tragic that many of the schools that could most use idealistic people can only be endured, in the long term, by teachers who are able to abandon their exalted notions for the sake of survival. To teach successfully in some our most challenging schools, what is required is frank and unbending realism about the enterprise at hand, combined also with uncommon mental toughness, a tolerant view of one's own failures, and lastly, an unbreakable kernel of belief in what one is doing. These combined qualities are relatively rare in one person, which is why, unfortunately, teachers do not often last in our toughest schools long enough to have a significant impact on the educational life of their students.
I should say straight away that many creative and thoughtful people are successful career teachers. But I have seen many idealists founder in education, and the reasons for their failure are not always so simple as they may appear.
Actually, part of it is glaringly simple. The insurmountable discipline problems of many schools would be daunting even to the most hardened veteran teacher. It does not speak well of our society that for generations certain groups of students have been left to languish in schools that have been wholly unwilling or unable to establish student discipline sufficient for basic learning. In practice, the perceived rights of a student who chronically misbehaves are seen as equal to the right of other students to learn free of distraction. In many instances, schools offer endless due process to misbehaving students and are loath to bring meaningful punishment upon them -- regardless of how the classroom climate may suffer because of this chronic misbehavior. I would guess that if there were one reason above all others for so many teachers leaving the profession within 5 years of starting out, it would be because of their school's equivocal (and I think often cowardly) treatment of students who, for whatever reason, consistently frustrate the educational enterprise.
It is in a way tragic that many of the schools that could most use idealistic people can only be endured, in the long term, by teachers who are able to abandon their exalted notions for the sake of survival. To teach successfully in some our most challenging schools, what is required is frank and unbending realism about the enterprise at hand, combined also with uncommon mental toughness, a tolerant view of one's own failures, and lastly, an unbreakable kernel of belief in what one is doing. These combined qualities are relatively rare in one person, which is why, unfortunately, teachers do not often last in our toughest schools long enough to have a significant impact on the educational life of their students.
Those deceptive beings -- children -- have intrinsic qualities that in themselves might both inspire, but also challenge any idealist. These qualities are to some degree common among all children, regardless of background. I feel I have developed a profound sense of connection with the children I teach. I enjoy working with them immensely, even more so than when I started in my profession. But I will say, with the greatest affection, that children are ridden with contradictions, ones with which one should be prepared to contend, humanely but firmly, if one wishes to teach successfully.
Children, when in a group setting, may attempt to engender chaos while at the same time they hunger for order and safety. They will try, in many cases, to frustrate your efforts to provide a rational structure to their setting; at the same time, they unconsciously hope that you will succeed in those efforts. They will often be contemptuous if you let them prevail over you. If you strike a familiar attitude with children, you are committing an error. Yet it is to your advantage as a teacher to convey a certain amount of tolerance and ease to your students.
Many successful teachers learn to convey warmth and even humor while maintaining their authority. But this is a skill, and it takes time and may be difficult to learn. Maintaining one's authority over a group of students requires a significant expenditure of social energy. Many teachers don't realize how difficult, and at times distasteful, it is to maintain authority in a classroom, and in fact never become comfortable with it. The need to be an authority figure seems at odds with the 'innocence' of children; it seems a contradiction, and to some it is an unpleasant one.
What is required to manage a classroom full of kids successfully and humanely is very often at odds with the notions one may have had at the outset of one's career. The popular notion that you have to be a tyrant to survive in the contemporary classroom is misleading. But the public suffers from a certain naïveté about the characteristics of children in a group setting; their behavior in groups becomes radically altered from what you would encounter individually (as any teacher will tell you, children, once grouped into sufficient numbers, can take on unexpected characteristics -- not all of them by any means negative, but certainly distinct and challenging ones).
Another thing that might, over the long term, work against the idealist in the education field is the sheer hard work of the job. The work hours of the teacher are not the ones most people would naturally set for themselves: the workday starts early, and time must be put in before and after the school day in order to complete the many different tasks demanded of the teacher. The pace of the job itself is unrelenting. Teaching requires constant planning, strategizing, improvising, reevaluating. Inevitably, most teachers are saddled with clerical work; they have to grade assignments, fill out forms, communicate with parents, arrange class trips. The sheer amount and diversity of what a teacher must accomplish may make it difficult in many cases to lead a life outside of the job, or for that matter be successful in the job itself.
Romantic notions can not long survive in many educational settings. But there is more than a sentimental satisfaction gained from the practice of helping children acquire knowledge. Teachers can bring as much knowledge and experience to bear on their lessons as their imaginations and resourcefulness will allow. I often compare a class to a kaleidoscope, because the minutest action on the part the teacher can vastly increase or decrease the receptiveness of that class to learning. A small action on the part of one or more students can also radically change the tone of the class. A classroom is highly sensitive to very small disturbances, and the actions of the students themselves, as I mentioned earlier, may tend (though usually not maliciously) towards chaos; it takes exceptional, even inordinate skill and practice to influence your students' actions so as to have the most beneficial result.
It can be terrifically gratifying when one has been successful in helping students attain a goal, however modest. I feel fortunate also that I am able to experience a great deal of satisfaction from even the routine aspects of teaching a class. But I recognize that the overall demands of the profession can be overwhelming. The authority of the teacher, like authority everywhere, has been brought into question; the social status and remuneration of teachers is not as high as it ought to be (this keeps some who might be effective teachers from entering the profession, or having entered it, from committing to it). While I believe that my own idealism had to be tempered in order to be successful as a teacher, I wish that teachers as a whole did not have to be disabused of their idealism as violently as they too frequently are.
