Erica Polizin

Essay 2 

     For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a lawyer ñ a big shot lawyer.  The whole image of a business suit, briefcase, appearing intelligent and well spoken, and being tough was very attractive to me.  As I got older, I became aware of the prestige that would come with a job like this; not to mention the money I could make.  So, here I am, a year and a half away from graduating college ñ and becoming a teacher.

     I donít remember when I decided to not become a lawyer.  The dream kind of just faded.  But I do remember when I decided that I wanted to be a teacher.  I was a junior in high school and I signed up for Latin.  I fell in love with the language in weeks.  I became nerdishly passionate about conjugating, translating, etymology, mythology, gladiators and everything else that came with it.  I found myself using the language all the time and constantly wanting to learn more.  The teacher for this class was the main source for my love of the language and my eagerness to become a teacher.  She taught with an enthusiasm that I had never seen before.  She truly loved what she was doing and wanted us to love it as well.  It was never a dull moment in Latin class.  After this class I felt the urge to tell people how wonderful the language was.  I wanted people to see how beneficial and fun it was.  That is when I knew I should become a teacher.  My senior year I discovered my second passion: English.  I was in a writing class, something that had always intimidated me because I was never confident with my work.  That year, however, I had a teacher who told me my papers were refreshing and inspiring.  He introduced me to pieces of literature in which I got completely wrapped up.  By the end of that year I knew that I was going to be able to always keep a strong tie to both of these subjects by teaching them.

    When I was in elementary school, I was what one may call a ìprize pupilî.  I behaved in class, participated, did all of my homework, and did it well.  I was the girl who the teacher used as an example of what you should do.  I remember a specific incident when my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Coffee, held up my notebook in social studies and asked the rest of the class to try to do their assignments similarly. Teachers encouraged me to try hard so that some day I could become whatever I wanted.  Basically, I was confident in my abilities and knew that I had to work hard to get somewhere.

     This attitude carried on through junior high and through my high school, which was a college-preparatory school.  I got involved in many activities, played sports and worked very hard for my grades.  My senior year I applied to many Universities and got into a great school: Marquette University.  After getting into MU, I figured the hard part was over.  I already knew what I wanted to do (become a teacher) and if I got in that meant I was smart enough to do well in college.  What I discovered was that the hardest part was yet to come.

     Coming to Marquette, I quickly learned that all my hard work, my high involvement in school, my basic cognitive abilities didnít matter.  In essence, my history didnít matter; it was my future that impressed people.  And there are only a few ìeyebrow-raising, congratulations, good for you, you must be really smart ñ worthyî occupations; some of which include engineers, dentists, nurses, lawyers, doctors.  I was no longer in my encouraging, accepting world from back home.  At Marquette I became part of a group of intellectuals. (The big secret was that supposedly only half of us are intellectual).

     Since I have been at Marquette I have been in constant battle with others and with myself to prove that the profession I love ñ the profession I chose ñ not only is challenging but worthy of the same respect that the degree in medicine or law will earn.  Sometime, early in my freshman year here at Marquette I, for the first time, heard somewhere, t.v. or the radio, the incredibly ignorant phrase ìthose who canít do, teachî.  I was completely shocked, not to mention irate.  This profession, that I had placed on a golden pedestal, was being laughed at.  It was considered a job that anyone can do.  I didnít, however, let it stop me.  I really liked what I was doing and it was going to take more than a few rude comments to get me down.

     The next few years of school were amazing.  I was getting placed in cooperating schools for observations and to conduct a few lesson plans. My choice was consistently being reinforced.  One of my schools allowed me to teach a lesson once or twice a week.  My first one was a review on noun endings of the first declension.  I gave the class a mnemonic device to help them remember.  They thought it was so wonderful and asked if I had any more.  For the first time I saw the eagerness in their eyes that my teacher had created in mine.

      My bliss, however, was quickly challenged in the middle of my junior year.  Almost as if a memo had been sent out to everyone to make me question my major, people were making comments left and right about my future job as a teacher.  I was out to dinner one night with some friends and a teacherís salary and reputation were being poked fun at.  Comments such as ìAll that work for a measly $25,000/year. . . why bother?î, were hitting me hard.  After dinner I asked one of my friends why someone would say that to me?  He told me, ìItís no big deal.  I think they just said it because you could have been anything you wantedî.  All I could think at that moment was ìnobody understands that I am being whatever I want. I want to be a teacherî!

    After that night, I was on a mission. I was going to prove to anyone that it was just as difficult a major as the others.  In a world where science and math were the ìsmartî subjects, I wanted to replace them with Latin, English and Education.  I would discuss, at length, the abilities it took to create lesson plans, maintain an effective classroom, to command oneís content area, to work with teenagers!  But it didnít work.  The harder I tried, the more frustrated I got.  Eventually I started thinking back on law school or any other major that required graduate school. Graduate school meant you were extra, extra smart.  I checked the bulletins, web-sites, talked to people. I knew I was smart and I was determined to do anything to prove it to anyone else.  I was just a few short steps away from changing majors.  I was driving myself quietly mad about it.  My future job (or reputation) was all I thought about!  And then I met someone, actually a group of people, that changed my outlook on everything.

    In a school where I was embarrassed to tell people about my major, I found a very special group ñ other teachers.  Other foreign language teachers and English teachers were excited and proud of their profession.  I was enrolled in a class that consisted of all future teachers.  The first day of class I told them my plans of teaching Latin and English and for the first time I received the ìcongratulations, good for youî comments that I had been waiting to hear.  But they said it not because it was a difficult major, or because Iíll be making the big bucks.  They said it because it is a respectable job. It is something to be proud of.  And it doesnít matter if no one else in this world knows how hard we work, or how smart we are.  I learned that what matters is that I love my job and I do it well.

      In a couple of years I will be in a high school classroom teaching Latin and English to groups of teenagers.  The prestige in this job will be found only from me and fellow teachers.  After early mornings, tiring days using every ounce of my energy to interest people in the topic of language study, I will see the prestige in my job.  I will be a teacher ñ and love every minute of it.