High heels and whistles. What do I mean, and why does it matter? High heels and whistles are important to me. Or at least there was a point in my life a long, long, time ago when they were important to me. High heels and whistles are actually the reasons I wanted to become a teacher.
That's right. I didn't want to become a teacher because I was inspired, or because I felt called to, or even because of kids. I wanted to be a teacher because I wanted to be like all the women in my elementary school (when I was a kid) who walked down the hallway and made all sorts of crazy "here I come" noise with the high heels they wore with panty hose (*cringe) and long, puffy dresses. All I could think of was "I can't wait until I can do that, and I can't wait until I can wear those."
Then there were the whistles. You know, the silver whistles on a lanyard that the teacher wore around her neck for when recess was over, or for when a kid was shoving another kids' face into the dirt for fun? Those whistles. I couldn't wait to be a teacher and have my very own whistle. All I could think of was "I can't wait until I can do that, and I can't wait until I can have one of those."
I was reminded of all of this a while back when I was trying to get someone's attention at recess by hollering his name across the playground. I thought about all of the trouble I have to go through sometimes, not to mention how many rocks I get in my shoe when I have to run across the playground to get someone to hear me! Then it dawned on me. A whistle. A whistle would get their attention, and I don't have one. I never have, nor have I even thought of obtaining one----ever. What happened? At what point did I forget about the whistle, and how is it possible that I have been a teacher for this many years and not have one? So then I thought again about the rocks in my shoe. I looked down at my shoes. You got it---they were flats. I was wearing flats, and I always wear flats. Again, I thought...what happened?
The truth is...I wear flats because I HATE high heels. I don't understand them, nor do I get how or even why people wear them. I realize I may offend some of you bloggers by that comment, but its my truth. I don't get them. It's a shoe. A very tall, uncomfortable shoe. Then there's the whistle again. I don't care for whistles. They are loud, a tad bit annoying, and way too old-fashioned for the modern playground!
So what did happen to me and my desire to own high heels and whistles? Time. Time is what happened. Time went by, and I realized that although high heels and whistles were the beginning of my dream to teach, the middle and the end to that dream were so much more than that. As I look back, I realize that the whole truth about why I became and am a teacher is this:
That's right. I didn't want to become a teacher because I was inspired, or because I felt called to, or even because of kids. I wanted to be a teacher because I wanted to be like all the women in my elementary school (when I was a kid) who walked down the hallway and made all sorts of crazy "here I come" noise with the high heels they wore with panty hose (*cringe) and long, puffy dresses. All I could think of was "I can't wait until I can do that, and I can't wait until I can wear those."
Then there were the whistles. You know, the silver whistles on a lanyard that the teacher wore around her neck for when recess was over, or for when a kid was shoving another kids' face into the dirt for fun? Those whistles. I couldn't wait to be a teacher and have my very own whistle. All I could think of was "I can't wait until I can do that, and I can't wait until I can have one of those."
I was reminded of all of this a while back when I was trying to get someone's attention at recess by hollering his name across the playground. I thought about all of the trouble I have to go through sometimes, not to mention how many rocks I get in my shoe when I have to run across the playground to get someone to hear me! Then it dawned on me. A whistle. A whistle would get their attention, and I don't have one. I never have, nor have I even thought of obtaining one----ever. What happened? At what point did I forget about the whistle, and how is it possible that I have been a teacher for this many years and not have one? So then I thought again about the rocks in my shoe. I looked down at my shoes. You got it---they were flats. I was wearing flats, and I always wear flats. Again, I thought...what happened?
The truth is...I wear flats because I HATE high heels. I don't understand them, nor do I get how or even why people wear them. I realize I may offend some of you bloggers by that comment, but its my truth. I don't get them. It's a shoe. A very tall, uncomfortable shoe. Then there's the whistle again. I don't care for whistles. They are loud, a tad bit annoying, and way too old-fashioned for the modern playground!
So what did happen to me and my desire to own high heels and whistles? Time. Time is what happened. Time went by, and I realized that although high heels and whistles were the beginning of my dream to teach, the middle and the end to that dream were so much more than that. As I look back, I realize that the whole truth about why I became and am a teacher is this:
I became and am a teacher because I was inspired. I became and am a teacher because I felt called to do so. I became and am a teacher because of kids.
