If you think the traumatic incident that occurred at the middle school was the end of my teaching career… Think again.
Teaching was a chosen profession for me. After I made the decision not to attend law school but rather pursue an undergraduate and graduate degree in my first love, English, I was not content to give up on this career that I loved so dearly.
Yes, I could always return to the paralegal arena which had finally become an accepted and even lucrative profession in the South. I even did a brief stint working for the government as a legal analyst, but it was not teaching.
I had traded students for case files, and despite the significant pay increase, I was not satisfied with my 9 to 5-is-it-lunchtime-yet cube existence.
I reasoned that if I could not teach at a public school, I could seek teaching jobs at community colleges and universities. My first college teaching position was at a major Virginia university. Members of the faculty saw me conduct a workshop at a middle school conference and invited me to interview for a faculty position .
I was hired after the interview, mere months after leaving my middle school position. Following that position, I was able to parlay my experience into jobs at several community colleges and an HBCU in Virginia.
Life as a contract professor or adjunct was interesting and challenging especially teaching freshman or adult learners. However, the pay and lack of benefits did not lend itself to the needs of a single parent.
I began considering reentry into public school. But this time up North. The sting left by the uncaring administrators at the middle school was still fresh
By this time, I had published 2 history books for young people , several journal articles, received several national fellowships, and taught in higher education so I easily secured an 8th grade English position.
The school was in a bedroom community of Washington, DC with a large Hispanic population. I enjoyed the school’s diversity and the nearness of the nation’s capital. Unfortunately, an unexpected illness caused me to end my tenure there, but once I recovered, I found another position in the largest and most influential county in Northern Virginia .
After several years in this county, I relocated to a sleepy litle town in the Northern neck of Virginia where I landed a position at both the local high school and community college.
This was my last stop on the teacher train and probably most memorable because of the faculty and students who welcomed me (an urban Black teacher) into their community and their hearts.
Officially retired now, and pursuing writing fulltime, I still dip my toes in the teaching pond…subbing at local school districts (my experience working at the local Gifted School will always be a fond memory of both talented students and dedicated educators) and conducting teacher training workshops.
When September rolls around, I still feel that excitement and air of expectancy heralding the start of a new school year
No longer do I feel anxious upon entering a school; instead I feel at home…looking forward to the interaction with colleagues…and facing a roomful of new, fresh faced, inquisitive students and the promise that Learning brings.
EACH ONE, TEACH ONE.