The names of this blog are no longer accurate, because I am no longer a "reluctant teacher" or so down on the profession that I delight in George Bernard Shaw's quip. I love my job now. I do, however, feel like I was a misfit as I joined the profession.
In college, I started my freshman year planning to take teacher certification courses, which started with practicums during my sophomore year. I went to them, and just remember being bored sitting in on an egotistical male social studies teacher, a super-involved female English teacher, and finally another male social studies teacher who gave A LOT of worksheets--so many that the students cycled through and he just handed them out from the center of the room (they had a certain way of walking through to minimize traffic). I didn't judge, but I surely knew that teaching is a little bit of a crazy profession.
The second semester of my sophomore year, the monkey wrench: I failed the personality test, a requirement of the Education department. I went to a small, liberal arts school, which are known for being behind the times. The personality test was some kind of 1950s California personality test (more than 40 years old by that time), and I had no idea you could even fail. The questions were something like: "Are you content with where you are in life?," to which I answered "NO," thinking, "I've got plans!" Another question: "Do you get angry when your coworkers do not work hard?," and I answered, "YES." You get the point. Even though I fancied myself smart and was going to school on a full academic scholarship, I was naive and stupid. I failed.
I went to tell my advisor (a history professor, very smart), and she thought it was hilarious that the Education department was so behind-the times and irrelevent with their requirement ("The world has changed, as have values, in the generation or more since the personality test was created," she giggled.) The first thing she told me was, "You don't want to teach high-school; you should plan on teaching college." I had never considered it, but it was flattering, so I abandoned the certification route and then fancied myself an academic. I ultimately went to graduate school, got an MA, but hated how trivial grad school was, fetishizing Nietzsche, Freud, Lacan, Derrida, and probably about ten other essayists. I remember sitting in a class, a 21 year old, listening to some 55 year old bore talking about Eminem, using the rhetoric of those essays to crunch thoughts that were worthless, clueless, and just frustrating. I hope you get the picture. It really was a waste of time, and really benefitted noone.
Upon graduation, I needed to get a job. Although qualified to teach at a community college, the only offers I got were for adjunct teaching, which was a rip-off: just one class less than full-time, for 1/4 of the already meager pay. The money is in teaching public school, I found out. Quickly, I jumped at a certification program, and I was on my way!