Teaching might be rewarding, but it seems pretty thankless - at least at the high school level. Young children often write affectionate notes to their teachers and are generous with smiles and hugs. Their discoveries tend to be profound and visible. Teenage learning is much more subtle. And most adolescents are loathe to give credit to anyone for anything, especially a teacher.
How many of my high school teachers did I ever thank for the hours they invested, the frustrations they endured, the extra lengths they went to? If they didn't get accolades or gratitude from me - or the other students, I'd wager - then who did they get it from? Their colleagues didn't see the animated lectures they gave, the creative activities they planned, or the enthusiastic debates they refereed. I suspect it takes someone self-motivated, who doesn't need lots of praise, to persevere as a high school teacher. Someone like Brian Wilfert, perhaps.
Mr. Wilfert is not one of the first teachers who comes to mind when I think of my school years. Other teachers were more flamboyant, more energetic, more temperamental … more memorable. But Mr. Wilfert probably was one of the most effective teachers I ever had. He taught an honors political science course my senior year. I remember him with a red beard, a well-modulated speaking voice and a quiet intensity. His class wasn't exciting, but it wasn't boring either. It was dense and fulfilling, like a well-prepared, nutritious meal.
Mr. Wilfert always had an agenda, he always started class on time and he always gave thought-provoking assignments that had a clear purpose. He was incredibly knowledgeable about a multitude of subjects, but I don't remember students ever crowding around his desk at the end of the hour. His was one of those classes that emptied the moment time was up. Mr. Wilfert just quietly packed up his papers and left the room. Where did he go, I wonder? Did he head to the teachers' lounge and read a book? Did he engage in collegial banter around the coffee machine?
I regret that I didn't tell Mr. Wilfert how much he taught me, that he awakened my interest in journalism and politics, and that now I'm planning to follow in his footsteps as a high school social studies teacher. But I never got the impression that he needed to hear such things to feel good about his work. I suspect he was much more intuitive than we ever gave him credit for. I think he knew he reached me, without being told.
I've been fortunate in my life to get a lot of feedback and recognition for my efforts. But if I succeed on this new career path, that may no longer be the case. I'd like to think that I'll be one of the inspiring, charismatic teachers who students approach after class. But on those days when I'm chugging along, doing my job in the real world with real teenagers, I hope that the strength of my conviction and the purity of my motives will be enough to sustain me, as I pack up my papers in an empty room. I'm lucky to have a role model like Mr. Wilfert to inspire me with his dedication to what I truly believe is a sacred duty.
-- Cindy Glover, Florida Atlantic University