I'm not sure why Ian Drury and the Blockheads skipped to part three, so I'll start at 1.
1. I am feeling very blessed. I am not a religious person, so saying that is a little uncomfortable, but I have to admit that I am feeling more than a little fortunate.
I have a job I like very much.
I feel as though my work is meaningful.
I like and respect the people I work with.
I truly believe that when we do our work well, we make a difference in people's lives.
Last night I spent some time with students who could not articulate what they wanted to pursue, or what their ideal work would look like. This was more than a little dismaying to me. Perhaps I am a bit of a "rose-colored glasses" type, but life is pretty good.
It is hard for me to tell "my story" without being a bit self-conscious. I was trying to describe for these students how I did NOT want to work in a steel mill as my father, uncles, and grandfather had. I worked Summers as a Laborer, Bricklayer's Helper, and Hot Bed Inspector (greatest...job title...ever) and I knew that I could use my head, or use my back.
The work was quintessentially industrial; dirty, dark and dangerous. I almost was burned severely my first Summer when a scaffold I was working on caught fire in the Steelworks. I DID get a mild burn from hot scale while working under the soaking pits in the Blooming Mill. But maybe worst of all, the only reason I was working was for money. My work held no meaning for me beyond payday.
In sharing this with the students, I told them that I felt that my decision to work in higher education was no happy accident. I found an environment where I could; feel good about my work, like and respect my colleagues, and feel as though somehow, what I did made a difference.
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I feel compelled to comment (briefly) about our similarity of experience. I never was a hot bed inspector, but I did spent a few moments of time under the assigned name of "Connie The Office Temp" because it seemed like the right thing to do. I was a first-generation high school graduate; that was as good as it got, in my world.
ReplyDeleteIt wasn't dirty work, but it was certainly demoralizing. Now, when I'm with students, attempting to untangle them from their misdirected prose, I know exactly what it's like to be in their chair and I sometimes think that maybe, just maybe, I'm making a difference.
I always knew I wanted to teach -- and even though I spent some time working other jobs, I always came back to teaching. I also knew that I didn't want to teach high school. Although my office job experience was not demoralizing or dirty, it did remind me over and over again that it wasn't what I wanted to do with my life.
ReplyDeleteWhat I did still amuses me -- I was the Accounts Receivable clerk for my father's company. I looked at numbers and did data entry. Nothing like teaching writing and critical awareness.
I think that the memories and reminders of the things we did that we didn't WANT to do can serve as the most powerful reminders of why we DO want to do what we are doing.
You are making a difference. We all are. Even if it's only in one student, the difference is there.
What do you make, indeed. :)