I fell into teaching through the backdoor. My senior year at Cal State University Bakersfield, I was studying Theatre Arts. A regular lead in school and local productions, I loved performing in front of an audience, and had set my sights for Broadway. Then everything changed when I met my soon-to-be wife, Jennifer.
We were working with head-injured adults at a rehabilitation program. We helped adults who experienced traumatic brain injuries re-learn daily life skills. During this time, we often found ourselves dealing with stress at extremely high levels. We watched everyday people struggling to remember simple tasks like dressing, showering, and making a bed. The high frustration led to our clients feeling incredibly angry and venting their frustration at us, their peers, and the world. I watched Jenn patiently and lovingly attend to those in her charge with grace, empathy, and unparallelled kindness. I knew she was the one for me, and vested all my energy in making her fall in love with me. It worked, and we were wed February 24, 1996.
I remember thinking I couldn’t be happier than spending time with Jenn (Over 25 years later, I still feel that way!). We fit together and brought the best out in one another. She was an introvert, and I was enough extravert for the both of us.
A tragic family event left three young cousins without parents. This led Jenn and me to discuss adoption. While the cousins found safe refuge with a loving grandmother, Jenn and I continued to pursue adoption.
We took training, classes, and jumped through numerous hoops while joining a local agency that took children who were deemed “hard to place.” We knew we were open to a sibling group, and crossed our fingers. Within a week of being certified, we received a call. A young boy and girl (4 and 5) were in need of foster parents. We were honest about wanting to adopt from the beginning. The childrens’ social worker told us that reunification had failed already, and that the odds were overwhelmingly stacked toward the children being available for adoption soon. After much discussion and reflection, we jumped. I remember racing to Target the night before filing our cart with toothbrushes, a step stool for the bathroom sink, a first aid kit, and syrup of ipecac (which I challenge you to find in your own medicine cabinet). Overnight, we were a family of four. Our once spacious three bedroom home, was filled with Rescue Heroes, Hello Kitty plush animals, laughter, and so much love. It’s funny how people so small can take up so much space, both physically and emotionally.
Our daughter was five and ready to start kindergarten. Jenn took her the very first day, and reported to me that she walked right in and said, “See you later,” as she walked in. Jenn cried in the parking lot and stayed long enough to watch the kids come out for first recess, where she saw our brave kiddo playing in the sandbox with classmates.
Our son, who was four, was not so easily left at daycare. He clung to the fence shouting, “Don’t leave me here with these people!” as I bawled my way to work. At daycare, we had a saint of a woman who took our son under her wing and loved him like no other. We had told her his story while enrolling him the day before, and she took our worried hands in hers and told us, “You have nothing to worry about. I will take good care of him.” And she did. He cried every day, and she patiently helped him manage his feelings. She took him to the window where he would wave good-bye to me, and over time, the tears were gone and he began to look forward to seeing her. Her face lit up every time she saw him, almost as much as Jenn and mine did. She loved him, and treated him like one of her own. He called her Mr. Helen, and when we tried to correct him, she said, “You let that baby call me whatever he likes,” and we did. Mr. Helen knew the value of connection.
I needed to get a real job. I had a family to support. Theatre took way too much time away from the people I loved, and didn’t pay. I spent some time in my daughter’s kindergarten classroom. I witnessed her veteran teacher going through the motions. She had labeled boxes for each month of the year, where she undoubtedly stashed seasonal resources. She did not connect with the kids, like our Mr. Helen. There was no heartbeat to be found. Spring parent/teacher conference was sterile and robotic, as well. Just the facts. I thought, “There has to be a better way of doing this.” On our ride home, I told Jenn my thoughts and she said, “Then do it.” So, I did. I graduated with a BA in Theatre Arts with a minor in English, and enrolled the following fall in night classes at National University with the focus of getting a teaching credential. Little did I know how fast things were going to move from there.
One of the fellow students at National University told me her district was hiring for a third grade position. She had put a good word in for me, and introduced me to her principal. After an hour long interview and a late night of waiting, I got the call that I was hired! I completed all the paperwork on Friday and school started on Monday. I rallied everyone I could around me, and we met at my new classroom on Saturday and set things up. That weekend was a blur. Then, before I knew it, my first day of teaching was here. From that moment on, I never looked back. I attended every professional development I could. To this day, I always have a book about teaching and education that I am reading. I have a list of educational heroes that I aspire to be more like, and, consequently, a list of practices I shall never engage in.
