Lesson Taught

What Teachers Make. Oh, damn it.

1,000 teachers. He fell short, but I want to throw my hat in the ring. Oh, damn it.

Q.L. and I had that inevitable discussion at work one day. You know, the one that starts out "Why aren't you a lawyer?" At some point, it wound about to what else I could have done. And like an idiot, the word "teacher" crept past my lips. Q.L. started talking about the difference I could make in these lives, and I flippantly responded "Yes, for the worse. But imagine how much better their lives are right now, that they've never met me." Another functional lie.

It's the thin-slice difference between never being satisfied, and reaching towards my goals. Me working at T.S. is a result of never being satisfied. Me writing a novel is a result of reaching towards my goals. And teaching, ah teaching.

A lot of you are questioning me on this one. "But, K.T.," the thought starts out. "I've seen you almost vomit after giving a five minute speech in public. How are you going to teach a full class, let alone four or five?" Excellent question, and I'll thank you to stop asking the hard questions so I don't have to give hard answers.

There are times in your life where you do things that you don't want to, because you have to, because something greater compels you. And if you've never experienced those moments, I pity you, I really do. It is in those moments, when we are caught between several difficult choices, that for a split-second, between when we ponder all those options, and when we select one, that we come closest to truly understanding Us. Not the United States, Us. Sometimes we shrink away, we walk the easy route, and we fail. Sometimes, we make our stand.

No doubt for the first four or five years, every day, every class, every single moment would be yet another challenge, a moment of running like hell, versus accepting that there are things I have to do, in order to try to make this world a better place. People say that the law was my destiny, that I would be that weathered soul, eyes purpled and watery, defending those falsely-accused citizens, "making right what once went wrong, and hoping each time that his next leap would be the leap home." I say someday, it'll be me dancing on my desk, pounding at the novel, driving home the point that repeated phrases mean a feeble attempt to convince yourself of something.

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Strong possibility of short posting next week, what with football starting, novels to write, the always unexpected, yet strangely welcome diversions in my life, this weekend threatening to destroy me, and getting way too creaky.