“Be something great. Be a senator, have power, fame, and actually make a difference. Be a comedian, entertain millions, make people laugh. Be a novelist, fight the eternal war of the individual vs. society, spread different perspectives and ideals, challenge minds and perceptions. Be a CEO and have wealth, security, and luxury. Be a rocket scientist, act as a pioneer into the great unknown that is our universe, advance the human race as never before. I don’t care, but for God’s sake, be something worthwhile!” Choices aren’t as great as they’re made out to be. Yes, it would seem if my biased friends and family are to be believed, I’m capable of anything I really put my mind to. Although the above fictional statement is a bit of hyperbole, to them I might be somewhat of a disappointment; wasted potential seeking an easy way to coast through life. Of all the possible ways one can influence the world, why would you choose to throw yourself away on something so futile?
I’ve decided to throw caution to the wind, ride the bucking bronco of life, and realize my full potential as a human being. I want to be a high school math teacher. Humble, I know, but a profession is only as limited as you make it. I want to participate in aspects of all those lofty careers and goals mentioned above, but unfortunately there is only so much one can learn and do in one lifetime. Thus, I’ve decided to combine aspects of them all in a rather unlikely area.
Impossible? Perhaps. But I’m certainly going to try. A teacher is not just a living tool of knowledge, used to cram a myriad of facts and theorems into stubbornly unyielding minds. A teacher is a staple of a student’s life. In one of the most critical times of a person’s development, teachers can have an astounding effect on one’s goals, beliefs, and very personality. It’s no coincidence that I chose to be a teacher after all; I had my own inspiration.
I want to entertain. I want to show that enthusiasm for any subject can make it not only interesting, but entertaining, humorous, and meaningful. I want to make a noticeable difference. A math test that tells a story? Preposterous. Using acting as a viable teaching method? Absurd. Making school less stressful, yet still effective and captivating? A pipe dream. Proving all of these assertions wrong? I’m certainly going to try!
My goals are set. Given what little I know about the teenage mind, they certainly do sound more like fantasy than feasible proposals. But similar attempts made an undeniable impact on me. Why should everyone else be so different?
I want to have fun. Forget wealth, power, fame, and grand artistic achievement. Give me a dry-erase board, a straw hat, a fake country accent, an audience, and a good math problem, and I’ll repay your tax dollars tenfold. Or have a fantastic time trying.
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