How I Became a Teacher... Or Why I'm Not a Doctor

Response to Prompt 36: Another Part of You


I have told the story countless times in hundreds of ways, but I don't think I've ever told the truth. Until recently, I don't think I knew the truth. At least I had been too cowardly to face it. Here's the part you may have heard before...

I spent most of my childhood growing up on Long Island. We moved to Florida just weeks before I started high school, but it would take years for the Long Island in me to fade away.  We lived in a city where public schools were like private schools, run by an independent school district. Local people were heavily involved in the goings on in the schools, and the locals in Great Neck were wealthy and professional (top 6.9% in the state for family income). That meant raising kids from whom they expected the same. The schools were competitive and some of the highest performing in the country.

Just to give you an idea, currently my would-be high school is ranked 30th in the state of NY, with a 94% graduation rate, and standardized test averages above the state mean. Over 95% of all girls and boys in the HS meet state proficiency, and 96% of the students earned the Regents endorsed diploma. In 2017, 94% of the graduates enrolled in higher education: 2-year (14%); 4-year college (80%). For those who might be wondering, Great Neck has less than 8% of their students qualify for free lunch, and is not very diverse. By why all this? Why does this matter?

My community raised me to believe there were few avenues to success. One could be a doctor or lawyer, or become part of a prestigious business. I'll be careful to note, though my parents had high expectations for my success in life, they did not encourage me to go down any specific road. College was an expectation, but what I wanted to study and my career path were not dictated to me or even pushed on me with any pressure. Somehow, when you grow up in this type of community, this is just a state of mind. It's engrained from a very early age, perhaps unknowingly. I was smart, came from a good home, was raised in an affluent community, and I would become a professional. For me, that meant I was going to be a doctor.

In 1987 we moved to Florida. The academic world was very different in my new home town. Sure, there were plenty of smart kids, but few had had the early education of a Great Neck Independent School System. As a high school freshman, I had already learned about 75% of what was covered in my classes. I am careful here not to dog Florida schools. I do have my criticisms, but I think this was more about what I got from my schooling in NY, than it was about the shortcomings of the Sunshine State. But I was on track to become a doctor, more specifically, I wanted to be a child psychiatrist. Because I was advanced, I was offered the chance to take psychology as an elective my freshman year, and that just sealed the deal even more. (Little did I realize, it was my teacher who was inspiring a somewhat dormant path toward education.)

I was immensely successful in high school. I came in so far ahead of the game, I really rode the high all the way through. I had honors and AP everything, and in my senior year I dual enrolled. By the time I graduated HS in the top 10% of my class, I already had more than one semester worth of college credit under my belt. I was completely exempt from college freshman English because of my AP and dual enrollment classes. At the time, that was awesome. Now, I wish I had taken those classes at the U. But you know what they say... hindsight is 20/20. I was going to be a doctor.

I was a great student, however I was never a great test-taker with the exception of essay tests which I always excelled at. My college entrance exams were fine, but nothing stellar. I got waitlisted at my top choice, and then got a partial scholarship offer to attend the University of Miami. Off I went in the fall of 1991. I was pre-med with an emphasis in psychobiology. I was on my way.

This is where the story might sound new. It sure is new to me, due to a recent look in the mirror. Thus far, the story has gone like this... I was big fish in little sea and went off to a highly competitive program at the U with tons of brilliant students, many of whom were international. There, I was most certainly a little fish in an enormous sea. Picture Nemo struggling to survive amongst piranha and sharks. They were smart and I was not, and so I allowed freshman bio to weed me out, as it was intended to. By sophomore year I was gone. I didn't have what it took and I changed my major. I was not cut out to be a doctor.

I feel the need to insert here, that this was not when I made the choice to become a teacher. I was not a victim or outcome of the mindset, "Oh, if you don't know what you want to do, just be a teacher." I changed my major to Speech Communication with the thought I might go to Law School. As I said earlier, it took a lot of time to move me from the Long Island mindset.

What I did next is not as important to this story, as my reflection on why I did what I did and what it says about me during that time in my life. The truth is, I let myself talk me and everyone else into this  idea that I was a victim of my own lack of confidence. Poor me, I thought I wasn't smart enough. I was struck in the head with a reality check. Upon further reflection, deep, now-that-I'm-in-my-forties reflection, this is not why I changed my major at all. I don't know that I ever doubted my own intelligence, although it is definitely possible.

What I did is make the decision, albeit unintentionally, to not work hard enough to follow my chosen career path. The class was challenging. But the most challenging part was not the content, it was the time needed to dive into it, to study, to learn. I never had to work so hard to get good grades in high school, and I paid the price in college by not having developed a strong enough work ethic when it came to my studies. I could argue if it was important enough to me and it was truly what I wanted to do, I would have made it a priority. But I'm pretty sure that's bullshit. It was what I wanted to do as far back as I could remember. I was spoiled and it didn't come easy, so I made the excuse. I'm not smart enough. I don't belong here. Pretty pathetic, huh?

I have no regrets about my chosen career path. Somehow it feels now like I'm doing what I was "supposed to do." But who is to say I wasn't "supposed to do" what I set out to do in the first place? I'll never know, and it's ok. I feel better knowing I have admitted to the real reasons I changed my mind. I feel more resolved about it now. Certainly I have developed quite a worth ethic since then. I have an advanced education and work very hard in my field. My experience though,  is what I think makes me fearful for my son. I hope he hasn't abandoned college because he's afraid to work for it. I hope he left to find an alternate path where he can be and feel successful like I have.