I had my first "teaching dream" last night. I imagine it was a side effect associated with my decision to dive into Teach For America, and withdraw my application for the permanent Enrollment Coordinator position at the BAC. As much as I have enjoyed working in higher education these past few months, and with what I suspect to be one of the greatest team of people I can ever work with, staying at the college would just delay the inevitable journey of becoming a teacher that I would have embarked on in spite of my acceptance into TFA.
Anyway, back to my dream.
I found myself on a school trip with a group of uniformly dressed 14 and 15 year olds. An uninvited nostalgia for the bittersweet naivety of invincibility enthralled me as my eyes caught the sight of a young couple dissolving into each others embrace, and whispering hushed promises into each other's ears. I hadn't considered before what it might feel like to witness this stage of my students' lives, a reality so foreign and preserved from the adult world of their parents.
One particular student, a young troublemaker stood out above the rest. He spent the day seeking to instigate disapproval and fuel the burning wildfire of my deepest insecurities. I could see in his eyes the hunger to prove to me, and himself, that I would turn my back on him. At one point, I noticed him showing off a silver switchblade, which reflected coldly under the deceptive warmth of sunlight.
Before I confronted him, I heard him brag about the protection he now had against him. The group was unresponsive at the sight of his blade. The hairs on arms stood up.
Protection against whom? I wondered aloud, and my student stared at me fearlessly, unaffected by the exposure of his secret. I was filled with abrupt awareness of the small gap between us; of my physical vulnerability against his untamed youthful might as he stood up to face me.
To my surprise, he proceeded to confide in me knowledge that all my students seemed to share about a neighborhood thug, a public figure assigned to protect the kids in this community who instead exploited and abused them. In my dream, I could not contain my disdain for this menacing presence in the lives of my kids.
Empowered by the inherent courage characteristic of dreams, I took on this great bully, in spite of the obvious danger it posed to my life. I'll spare you the details of our scuffle, suffice it to say, I won.
As I considered the details of the dream when I awoke, I realized how ridiculously miraculous it would have been for me to physically overpower any mature individual, having never been in a fight in my life. But I indulged in the promise that even my subconscious was committed to doing whatever necessary to protect my students.
After all, if adults are unwilling to raise our voices, and sometimes even battle against injustices plaguing our lives, then what can children do but renounce themselves to an unjust system controlling a passive and defeated multitude?
Oh, and did I mention all of these events presumably occurred on my first day on the job?
Jeez. Lets hope my first day is only half as exciting.
