Why I became a teacher

I’ve thought for years that, though I love my career immensely, perhaps I should contemplate something else as so many have told me throughout the years.  Teaching is not a career afforded much respect as an intellectual endeavor, at least in my experience.  I never blew anyone away as a wunderkind, but I graduated fairly high amongst my small class in high school, and I remember being asked several times why I wasn’t pursuing law or medicine.  I chose to attend a local state university (IUP), partially because of the cost, but mostly because I felt right at home on campus. I have had to answer questions about why I didn’t attend a school with a bigger name, and I sometimes ask myself that same question despite how happy I was there.  I was accepted into the Honors College at IUP, which afforded me many opportunities to expand my horizons intellectually, including two chances to study abroad in Cambridge and Vienna.  The director of the Honors College wanted me to change my major to philosophy (I did minor in it) and apply for a Rhodes or Fulbright scholarship.  I have since wondered just how I might have used these graduate scholarships to become a better teacher, but the impression I was given was that I should change my major in order to seek any kind of intellectual glory.  Every level of my studies involved teachers and professors trying to convince me that becoming a teacher would be shortchanging myself.  All I ever thought was that teaching was what I loved and what I was good at.  I still think that, albeit with a nagging doubt as to whether everyone was right about me holding myself back from bigger and better things. 

So, I thought I might share my personal epiphany.  I enjoy telling the story of what turned me toward teaching, anyway.

When I was 15 years old, I was in 10^th grade, and I got kicked out of class for the very first time.  I sincerely loved school, at least academically, and I was a talkative yet well-behaved young man.  The first trait was what got me in trouble, though.  During computer class, we’re usually playing Oregon Trail on our Apple IIe’s and powermacs.  However, Wo (yep, that's what we called him), a teacher that very rarely taught formal lessons, decided to give it a go this particular day and walk us through programming in BASIC.  I got in trouble in the first 5 minutes for talking too much, then in the next 5 minutes for laughing too much.  Before 10 minutes had gone by in the class, I was sent out of the room.  But, instead of sending me to the office, Wo sent me to the adjacent room where Mr. O (yep) was teaching an algebra II class.  I was told to sit in the back of the room and be quiet.  Mr. O actually did a lot of teaching from the board, and he liked to use the classic method of writing down problems on the board and asking a brave soul to go solve them.  Math came relatively easily to me, and as it happened, I tutored several of the students in this particular class.  One in particular, David, was sitting right in front of me at the moment.  I had shown David during lunch how to solve the problems Mr. O was writing on the board, so I encouraged him to go show his stuff at the board.  David was not that eager, so I continued to badger him.  Apparently, I was much louder than I’d thought, because Mr. O stood above me with a very stern look on his face.  I thought, “Oh my goodness, twice in one period?  I’m toast.”  Mr. O said in a rather accusatory way, “Mr. Schneider, would you like to teach this class for me?”  I shook my head, said I was sorry, and promised to be quiet.  Mr. O handed me the chalk and told me to get to the board.  So, I did.  I knew how to do the problem fine, so I solved it, explained to the class what I was doing, and put the chalk down.  Mr. O decided to give me another problem, one that I’d never seen before.  I think he was trying to stump me, but I was fairly confident I could solve it, so I got to work.  The amazing thing is that the rest of the class wasn’t snickering at me, they were writing down the problem and taking notes like I was the legitimate teacher.  I continued explaining what I was doing in each step, and even had to backtrack once or twice when something I tried didn’t work, but I successfully solved it.  Mr. O continued giving me new and unique problems, and I continued working through them with the class, even answering questions from students throughout the process.  This went on for 20 minutes or so. Near the end of class, a student in the back commented, “Mr. O, why don’t you teach like that?  I understood this.”  At that moment, I truly thought I was a goner.  Instead, when the bell rang at the end of class, Mr. O simply took the chalk.  From that moment on, I knew I could be a teacher.  I’m not sure I knew I would be a teacher, or if so, what I would teach, but I knew it was fun.  That comment, “Mr. O, why don’t you teach like that?” has stuck with me longer than the name of the student who said it.