Before I "pass you on" to my son via his writing, the blog spies need to know that anything I talk about at home is in generalities. I am respectful enough to not name names when I am grieving over the lives of the beautiful children with whom I work on a daily basis.
Just thought I'd put that out there given the grief I got about the play blog enteries.
...a little FYI
Now over to my oldest son, Dylan:
Going through school is not easy for anyone.
At some point
through our educational lives, we undoubtedly experience problems with work,
other students, or even our teachers. As a hyperactive boy brought up in a
school system that favours a more girl oriented learning style, I frequently
had trouble staying on task, holding my tongue and handing work in on time.
Early on in elementary, I hated going to school.
When it came time to do
homework, it was a struggle every night but was fortunate enough to have
parents that were determined to see my success to the end. No matter how much I
kicked and screamed, my parents were always willing to come help me with the
next day’s homework despite the previous night’s debacle.
How do my parents make a living might you
ask?
Well, they’re teachers.
Do you think a mechanic is eager to get out the
tools and work on more cars after a long day at the shop? Chances are no.
But
no matter what kind of day my parents had at school or how much marking they
might have, if I needed help, I never had to ask twice.
As I moved into secondary
school, though my hyperactivity remained, far fewer assignments came in late
and I began to see some success; I even started to like school. The values and
learning habits instilled in me through my parents resonated with me and I owe
my current academic successes to the long nights in the dining room learning
the multiplication table or French conjugation.
Helping people just comes second nature to teachers, well,
the ones that raised me anyway.
I am
proud to be the child of a teacher.
Any time I mention my mother’s name to
someone that attended her school, they say something like the following: “Oh, wow!
That’s your mom? She’s awesome! She’s turned so many people’s lives around.”
Nothing makes me more proud than when someone says that.
My mom deals with
the students that would not be given the time of day by some teachers because
of their behaviour or absences. They don’t come to class and don’t seem to try
in their work and therefore don’t merit any attention from some teachers.
These
are the students that need the most attention.
They’re not stupid; if anything
these ‘alternate’ students have a leg up on everyone else because of their life
experiences.
I have heard countless heartbreaking stories (anonymous, of course) of the home lives
many of her students face; drug addicted, abusive or simply absent parents are
reoccurring themes in their lives. Sometimes these kids have to stay home and
look after their siblings because their mom is off getting high.
If my mom did
not delve deep into the root of what was bothering these students and help them
to overcome it and complete their studies, many of them may not have graduated,
or worse.
The way she treats and teaches these students changed the way I view
people. It taught me not to judge someone on their behaviour because there is
often an underlying reason as to why someone is acting the way they are.
As the child of teachers, it breaks my heart to see the
struggles they face from government.
I get to see and hear about all the hard
work they do once the final bell rings.
People forget about how hard it is to
be a teacher. It takes a lot of money and education to finally get the right to
stand in front of a class and give credentials to a future generation.
Seeing
where our government likes to spend and save its money is going to hurt us as a
province in the long haul.
Teachers do not do what they do for the money, but
it would be nice to see all the hard work pay off in the end. Cuts to so many
important programs impede the ability of teachers to truly make a difference in
the lives of kids.
Old battered resources and massive classes are commonplace
in this province.
Going back to our friend the mechanic, imagine him as a
teacher. Think of the ripped and torn books as old broken tools, the massive
class sizes as over booked garages and the cars on the road as our students.
What kind of cars do we want on the road and what kind of young adults do we
want entering the work force?
With a little more investment into our education
system, we can have some pretty fast and reliable students on the road... cars
in the class room... whatever, you get the analogy.
Not anyone can be a
teacher, so we need to love the ones we have.
Politics aside, growing up in a family of teachers makes for
great kids. Any of my friends that have teachers as parents all seem to be
fairly well off in life and headed in the right direction. I know that I will
do well in life because of the support system I have behind me. I am grateful
and proud of the teacher parents that I have.
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