Let’s talk about the elephant in the room. Or rather panda.
Last Sunday on a cold, drizzly afternoon I stood next to two fellow Drake University faculty (and my own former professors) admiring the larger-than-life bear wobbling back and forth at the far end of the Anderson Gallery, it’s recycled plastic bag construction supported by the monotone hum of a generator pumping air into it’s bulbous body.
This impressive ursine display was the work of not one, but three students (two of whom I taught in a previous semester) that was accepted into the ever-more competitive annual juried student’s exhibition. It’s a time honored tradition at Drake and one that I participated in and a well earned celebration for students and faculty alike after a semester and a half bringing blank canvas, clay, and computer screen to life.
I know first-hand, from my own experience and second-hand from my own retired teacher mother that a lot of work as an educator goes unnoticed, even unappreciated. What brings us back to the classroom day after day, and week after week is more than a paycheck or health care benefits. It’s something that runs much deeper–a desire to make a difference in the lives of our students.
“I never would have created this had it not been for your class.”
Not everyone is cut out to be a teacher, let alone understand why anyone would pursue a career that often requires hours outside of the normal school day grading projects, speaking with concerned students and parents, or preparing the next day’s lecture slides. I myself must admit that of all things, grading is probably my least favorite task.
Not that the task itself is too challenging or simply mundane, but that it’s difficult, nay impossible to truly assign a numerical value to what I really hope students achieve in my classes, the results of which are never more apparent than at a collective gallery show.
Even more than viewing the artwork itself, I love speaking with current and past students. Two of my former Illustration students spoke to me about that particular class saying it is ‘still one of my most favorite classes I’ve taken at Drake,’ and, gesturing to his own painting hung on the wall beside us, ‘I never would have created this had it not been for your class.’
I beamed. My heart felt as big as the bear bobbing gently at the back of the room. And that’s the secret. The reason us teachers show up day after day, week after week. It’s those moments when our hard work is acknowledged. It’s the acknowledgement that I have made a difference.