We’ve already covered where I am from and where I am going. Now how about a post (albeit a seemingly tangential one) about what I do? My immediate answer when people ask me, “So what do you do?” is, “I teach English,” quickly qualified by “mostly American lit and writing.” I won’t pontificate too much (at this point) about why this is (for me) the most awesome job in the world. Instead, I just thought I would share a brief story from today that has had me thinking a lot about what I do, why I do it, and why it matters, and how the rest of the world sees it.
I was at Eckerd picking up some Diet Coke. They are having an awesome sale this week—four twelve packs for $10. (This is an important detail for anyone who loves A) Diet Coke and B) good deals. I happen to fall into both of those categories). Anyway, I had some other items, too, and anyone who knows me a bit can guess the next important part: each of the items was also on sale and I had coupons. The woman at the checkout (maybe in her late 50s?) looked at one thing I was buying and then reminded me that the Eckerd brand was also on sale that week and might, therefore, be cheaper. I thought that was pretty cool of her, a sign of the kind of courtesy you don’t often get these days. “Thanks,” I said, “but I took a look at them, too, and with this coupon, I think this is still cheaper.” She was impressed by that and then said, “Sometimes you wish you had a calculator to help you do shopping, right?”
“You know,” she said, “I always say that kids should have to take math all the way through school.” She explained (and I don’t know how true this is) that by high school kids don’t have to take math every year, although she claimed, “they do have to take history and English every year.” I just nodded and agreed, saying, “I know what you mean—I’ve forgotten so much of the math I used to know, and part of me wishes I could still remember it.” (And this is quite true—I used to know things like calculus and what the heck the quadratic formula meant).
She went on, “I mean, I know those other things are important, but math—you use that every day.” I agreed with her, but at this point, my conscience and my firm (idealistic) belief that you do use the things you learn in English class every day were both begging me to say something in defense of my discipline. So I said, “Well, I teach English, but I see your point.”
I think this caught her a bit off guard—she must have thought that I was offended a bit by what she said. Of course, this wasn’t the case. But she explained, “Well, I’m not saying you don’t need to know grammar or how to write, but some of the things they are doing and reading” (and I think she mentioned Ivanhoe as an example), “how are they practical?”
Now that voice inside of me was getting louder. After all, I believe that there is a lot of value—even practical value, whatever that means—in reading works like Ivanhoe. But I didn’t say much more—just a flippant and friendly remark about grammar before saying good-bye and thank you.
As I walked to my car, I couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation. I could see completely where this woman was coming from. In her mind, school is about helping kids learn what they need to learn to succeed in life and what they need to learn to be happy people. But I also know that good reading and writing abilities are a key component to that happy life—and not just business and professional writing, but the kind of reading that values the aesthetic experience of it all. Appreciating art has value in itself. And I know that this woman—a hard-working, tax-paying older American—is precisely the kind of person with whom I should want to have this important conversation.
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