It’s Not Too Soon…

As a parent, a future educator, and human I have a few thoughts I’d like to place on the table.

1. Not now, nor ever do I think banning guns is the answer. Just like with travel bans, ethnic bans, drug bans…banning anything is ridiculous and does not actually address the problem.
2. Not now, nor ever do I do think it a logical train of thought to give teachers a gun to keep in the classroom. Unless you are willing to train us like you train the marines. Are you ready to train us like the marines? I have to tell you…I’m not.
3. Not now, nor ever do I believe it’s too soon. It is not too soon to be talking about gun laws. It is not too soon to be enforcing the rules we already have in place. It is not too soon to be calling wrong, wrong. It is not too soon to be wondering why other countries do not have this issue.

School shootings do not deter me from teaching. It only makes me painfully aware that I am exactly where I need to be.

I pray for the families and teachers that lost their child, their brother and sister, their cousin, their wonderful students. We have supposedly put measures in place to prevent this from happening. So, what’s the disconnect?

 

“Fully Involved”

I naively envisioned student teaching requiring maybe 25 hours a week of effort. Being only 23 years old, I pulled off meeting the needs of my internship, while being a furniture salesman. My newfound, livable wage of 40k/year transformed me into a real adult. I no longer existed in the ghetto of cramped student dormitories. I evolved into a man that had his pizza delivered to his house.

Unfortunately, working a second job is forbidden at Exorbitant Furniture. They own all of your time. I was on break one evening and had lesson plans scattered about the table for my American Lit Course. My boss, Ms. Illiteracy, walked in and noticed the paper trail:“What is this mess on my table? *Crumples folder* Teenagers are snowflakes. Which job is putting food on your table?”

She did not apologize or step down; it just became awkward.

I began filling downtime with designing my next unit and reading parent emails: “Lana came home thrilled about winning your essay contest. I did not know she was talented at something.”

I adore this career where I can make even neglectful parents see the value in their children. But why wait? I already had the job! I opened a Google Doc and began typing.

I hand-delivered my resignation letter, stamped with retribution, to Ms. Illiteracy: “I thought about your comments on being a teacher,” I said as I dropped it on her desk.

My students deserve 100% of my time. I now look myself in the mirror with honor.
-Mr. Harley.