A Teacher's Journal 34: A Memoir You Can Trust

Now don't get me wrong -- teaching is inspirational. That is why so many of us wake up each morning excited to get to school and see our students. We make lifelong connections that are significant and meaningful, changing lives and shaping futures.

Teaching is also energizing. There is nothing like the feeling that I get when I know that my instruction is reaching my students. Watching children construct knowledge and make sense of the world because of my actions is simply remarkable. Creating those moments leaves me mentally charged and professionally challenged.

And teaching is humbling. Sometimes when my students are silently reading, I'll look out over my classroom and "get wet in the eyes," (I won't admit to crying in front anyone) both in awe of and thankful for the incredible responsibility that I've been entrusted with.

But teaching is also frustrating. We struggle each day doing the best that we can to meet goals that are simultaneously important and impossible to reach. Despite investing our whole selves into finding ways for every child -- regardless of personal circumstance -- to succeed, there are often students that are left behind. Those failures weigh heavily on our hearts and minds.

Believe it or not, teaching can be demeaning. I can't tell you the number of times that I've been spoken down to by well intentioned others who don't consider me to be their intellectual or social equal because of my chosen career. "Hey, Bill," they'll say, "Why don't you go back to school to be a principal? You seem like a smart guy. You're not lazy, are you?" Or one of my all time favorite comments: "Why would you choose to waste your life away as a teacher when you could be so much more?"

And teaching is lonely. While others believe they know what our profession is like based on their experiences as students, few truly understand the daily challenges -- both personal and professional -- that teachers wrestle with throughout their careers. It would be easy to argue that no profession in America requires the mental stamina and commitment of education, yet no one knows that except for those of us who walk through the doors of classrooms each morning.

Needless to say, I was a skeptic when I picked up Frank McCourt's new work Teacher Man last month. Convinced that I would find yet another one-dimensional "feel-good" story that painted a warm, but inaccurate view of my work, I read only because I had been asked to introduce McCourt to an audience at a local book signing. "How am I going to say something positive about a work that I'm going to despise?" I thought.

It wasn't long, however, until I realized that McCourt's work was different. His ability to touch on every emotion -- both positive and negative -- that I have felt during the course of my teaching career was remarkably validating. I finally felt as if someone was writing about what it is that I do each day.

Like a well-worn friend, my copy bears evidence of the connections that I felt while reading. Dog-eared pages and annotations are everywhere, as are intensely personal reflections scrawled in margins. I nodded when he spoke of giving up his love of Shakespeare and Chaucer because he was too busy with the work of the up and coming authors -- and students -- like Susan and Jonathan. I laughed out loud as he tried to figure out the right course of action after a bologna sandwich flew across the front of his classroom – an event they don't prepare you for in "teacher school." And I felt the chill of emotion when he left the classroom for the last time, knowing that someday that moment would come for me as well.

Now, can I vouch for Teacher Man as an accurate reflection of McCourt's life?

No. I don't know the man at all.

But there is no doubt that Teacher Man is an accurate reflection of what it means to teach. The events included will resonate with educators and give outsiders an intimate look into the hearts and minds of those who choose to spend their lives in our classrooms.