By: Miguel Padilla
"Enter North Tamarind Elementary School through its welcoming entrance." Source: homes.com
Whenever someone would ask me about my career, I’d tell them about my dream of becoming a teacher. Now, that childhood dream has largely faded into the background.
With the death of teaching looming over the educational landscape — fueled by discussions over poor wages and the rise of automated instructional tools, I’ve come to terms with a changing future.
Before my enthusiasm for teaching began to wane however, my love for language once ignited a steadfast desire within me to teach. Even the brightest of glimmers can dim over time, inevitably finding redirection towards something more profound.
2009 was the year that sparked the beginning of my journey. I remember 6th grade like it was yesterday. My teacher that year, Mrs. Smith, was truly exceptional. Beyond her enthusiasm for teaching, it was her nurturing demeanor that made her stand out amongst the many instructors I had encountered at that point. Not once did I feel belittled for not understanding something in class. Which to me, unfortunately, was a rather new feeling to have.
And yet despite this, by the end of that year, I emerged from the sixth grade having more than just accomplished personal milestones; I left with a bigger heart and a newfound sense of purpose.
The catalyst — my teacher that year, Mrs. Smith.
Among the memories that stand out vividly, was the day we were told to write poetry. This would include haikus, limericks, and everything in between.
My thoughts swirled during the lesson, I remember struggling to connect verse and couplet, shaping each line, finding it next to impossible to form coherence amidst the chaos of words. I reached for a dictionary for some help. Words, confined to the limited vocabulary of a sixth-grader, had proven challenging for me to conjure up. After pulling so many rabbits out of my hat, it felt as though my magic had run dry. Upon looking inside the dictionary, I was greeted by a treasure trove of words. Amidst myriad choices to choose from, I finally settled on one for my haiku.
he word itself was – inconsequential.
What came after is what truly mattered to the story I’m about to tell.
With the chosen word in mind now injected into my poem, I strolled comfortably to the front of the classroom amidst the chatter of my classmates absorbed in their own conversations. I remember looking to Mrs. Smith, eager to hear her thoughts on my poem and, more importantly, for her impression over the word I had selected.
According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, the word I had settled on was fitting – it even had a satisfying rhyme to it. I felt empowered having chosen a multisyllabic word. A word that felt mature. Beyond my years.
What ensued was a conversation that went something like this:
“Hi Mrs. Smith, I was working on my poem, could you read it, and tell me what you think?”
“Absolutely,” she replied warmly.
[Mrs. Smith reading the poem] “It sounds wonderful Miguel. But may I ask you something?”
“Yes,” I replied with assurance.
“Where did you find this word?” [Her, pointing to the word I had carefully selected.]
“I found it in the dictionary, I like the way it sounds, I thought it fit.”
"It's a beautiful word, isn't it?" she remarked, her voice carrying with it a hint of intrigue.
“It is" I replied, uncertainty mixing with pride.
“I’m impressed you chose that word, I think it’s great that you're choosing more challenging words to use, I'm proud of you. However, the word you chose does not fit in the way it should be used.” she said in a calm manner.
“Oh, it doesn't?” I replied, somewhat surprised.
“I’m afraid not,” she said in a low, soothing rasp. “But I'm glad that you chose a word that you're not familiar with. It shows that you're challenging yourself, and I'm proud of you for that. You should keep using words you enjoy, and I promise you that with time, they'll gradually become more familiar to you.”
A smile played across her face when she said those last words.
From that moment onward, echoes of pride, curiosity, hope, ambition, and love endured. Even though I had completely misused whatever word I added into my poetry, I didn't experience an ounce of embarrassment, or even a hint of failure in the aftermath of it all. Instead, I felt a sense of pride. Mrs. Smith recognized potential within me, and in that fleeting moment of vulnerability, she seized it as a teachable opportunity. She reframed what could have been seen as a mistake, and in all honestly — was an amateur mistake, and transformed it into something an elementary school student could be proud of.
She made me want to explore the English dictionary.
And throughout middle school and into high school, I decided to do just that.
I kept a pocket dictionary and thesaurus close always. I would jot down words that deeply resonated with me — words craving comprehension, yearning to be used in essays. It ignited a desire within me to dive deeper into the English dictionary, to explore its vast treasures. It made me want to write poetry forever. It made me want to be someone like her, to exude compassion, and to help others on their own journeys. As I stumbled through middle school and into high school, with the weight of the future bearing down on my shoulders, I told everyone who would care to listen that I dreamed of becoming an English teacher.
Did I fully grasp the implications of that dream at the time? No. Did I consider the challenges and responsibilities inherent to the teaching profession? Not in the slightest. Yet, even with this unwavering love that propelled me academically, steering me into becoming a straight-A, 4.0 student I was throughout my academic career, I was undoubtedly nurtured by the seed planted by my sixth-grade teacher. A seed that sprouted leaves many times, soaking in beams of sunlight like markers on pages of composite paper.
My impressionable mind already had its impression of English. It was the language of excitement, joy, safety, and above all else, personal pride — thanks an instructor like Mrs. Smith, who guided me with kindness in a crucial stage of my growth.
After graduating high school, I navigated through various interpersonal challenges while pursuing higher education here and there, working entry level jobs and always carrying with me a fervent desire to teach through it all.
The onset of the Covid-19 pandemic served as a wake-up call for me, however, as it revealed the stark realities of the underappreciated and underpaid nature of the teaching profession. As I grappled with a newfound awareness, a seed of doubt rested in my mind, making me start to question my future aspirations.
While recognizing that no profession is without its flaws, I couldn't ignore the immense personal sacrifices made by educators, particularly those in K-12 education, who often found themselves overworked and undervalued despite their dedication. I would hear stories, both personal and anecdotal, about how teachers would often invest significant amounts of their time and energy into their jobs, only to receive a fraction of the compensation they might earn elsewhere. Although teaching can be fulfilling and financially rewarding given the right circumstances and mindset, it remains an inherently demanding occupation that frequently leads to burnout, as I had surmised from second hand experiences.
After careful introspection, I made the decision to pivot away from pursuing a career in teaching, a choice I know has been made by many others like me facing similar uncertainties in today's job market.
Even amidst these apprehensions, teaching at the college level still serves as a beacon of opportunity I feel, as it offers decent financial reward for those seeking a career in teaching. In the face of job market anxieties, the demand for skilled educators in higher education remains steadfast, with colleges and universities seeking knowledgeable and engaging instructors to guide their students everyday. Teaching at the college level not only endures, but thrives, presenting pathways for those both seeking an intellectually challenging work environment and financial stability in their careers. While it's true that not all colleges offer equal compensation, with some, like San Bernardino’s Community College District falling notably short in this regard, there is still much good to be found here for those looking to teach.
As I pursue my bachelor's degree now, my passion for language and my desire to assist others remains pure. I see the significance of teaching, and in its profound impact on individuals' lives — I am a living testament to that. Education, and the pursuit of knowledge are foundational to us all. Whether I ultimately express my love through teaching, or explore adjacent avenues, remains uncertain. For now, I feel compelled to keep exploring the world a bit more, before fully committing down any one path.
One thing is for certain though, I’ll always be a person who misuses larger words from the dictionary, hopefully learning from their mistakes. I hope to become the mentor I aspire to be for others one day. No matter how long teaching remains in transition.