I’m about to stand up in front of a classroom again for the first time. Well, the first time for these particular classes. It’s actually going to be my 204th time.
I gathered some teaching data recently and discovered that I had taught my 200th course in the spring of this year. (And the 201st, 202nd, and 203rd. Who knew?) I finished my forth-seventh semester. And taught my 2,623rd student. (Many of them took multiple classes with me, which feels like the greatest compliment students can give to a teacher.)
When I was a kid, I thought it would be fun to be a teacher because I could spend my days writing on chalk boards. Little did I know, those wouldn’t even really exist by the time I got to stand up in front of a classroom all day.
Which was a hurdle I had to get over, by the way. I’m an introvert. I was also painfully shy as a kid. (And no, those are not the same thing.) As an introvert, I do better thinking through writing than talking. As a shy kid, I had no interest in being the center of anyone’s attention, let alone an entire classroom of folks. How I ever landed on teaching as my chosen profession, I honestly don’t know.
But I did what I needed to get comfortable with it. I was in Forensics through middle and high school, which helped me get (somewhat) more comfortable standing up and speaking in front of a people. I obviously went to college and grad school to get comfortable with the content. And then I found a job at a small community college in the middle of a corn field down the road from the university where my (now-)ex was getting their masters. (I don’t know why I didn’t think to look for a job or apply there… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but given the people that have come into my life through my work, I’m glad I didn’t.)
When I started at this community college, the plan was a couple years, and then we’d probably be moving for my ex’s work. But they added a year onto their graduate degree, and a full-time position opened up at my college. I applied. I got it. Figured I’d save up some money for a couple years, then we’d move.
But then I blinked.
Now I’m about to start my eighteenth year there. My forty-eighth semester. Teach my 2,624th student.
I still remember the painstakingly long countdown to high school graduation – how I couldn’t wait for the next step. And now, somehow, someway, here we are.
And somehow, I still get nervous on the first day of class. I sort of hope that never goes away.
Ami Maxine 