I am Erin Gruwell

Okay - I really need to preface this (provocative) claim: I am not the brilliant teacher, the inspiration of the must-see film "The Freedom Writers". This movie, by the way, is so effective in cementing a teacher’s sense of righteousness and self-importance, that I am still decompressing my ego, having seen this film over two weeks ago.

No, I am Erin Gruwell for a different reason. Erin lived her passion. She poured her life into her class - and what a dream to have them for 4 years! She dedicated so much to those kids that her personal relationships suffered - almost to the point to total isolation (as the film lead us to believe). I am Erin Gruwell because I too live my passion for teaching, to the point of alienating my family. I dream about my practice at night, I wake up thinking about planning my day, how to more effectively reach certain kids, how to boost the self-esteem of my down-trodden cases, I fantasize about adopting certain kids to save them from themselves, I bring my work home, and the list of neglect of family goes on.

In the past couple of weeks, I have moved to a new school - and for a school already heavily time-committed, we gave up weekends and evenings to ensure that our new building/classes were ready. On top of that, I also had training at the university for an up-coming course I am facillitating. Needless to say (yet I am going to) considerable stress was place on my relationships with my family.

I caught the bitter tirades of my wife with her email buddies. She (and her friends) compared my profession with others, effectively reducing all that I do with the simple toss-off: He’s just a teacher! This says it all, doesn’t it? I furiously clung to my self-inflated importance of my job, holding up my new idol of Erin, claiming that I too do incredible work! I change lives!

Yet do I? The grim reality is that no one really remembers with fondness their grade 3 teacher, saying that it was this person who changed their life forever. There aren’t major movies out about the incredible work done with 8 year olds, and how these amazing teacher’s save all these kids from gang violence, from drug use, from abuse and neglect, all through some trick of sorts (perhaps I can teach them all how to play trombone, letting the music find their frozen hearts, teaching them to ballroom dance, play in an orchestra, act in a Shakespearean play, or write best selling books). Yet I cling to my delusions of grandeur. I secretly wish for the teacher of the year award, the million dollar contract, the whirl-wind book tour, the appearance on Oprah for the fantastic way I am teaching my kids how to visualize when they read.

Where is the balance? Where is the motivation coming from that makes me neglect my wife, leave the raising of my kids to others? What I do is good work, but what is the cost of this?

I am really good at my job. I love to teach because I am very successful at it. I am not so successful at being a parent/husband. It is a struggle, and often coming home, it is a brutal transition from successful teacher to screw-up family man. Perhaps it is this desperate clinging to success that makes me gravitate towards school. Maybe it is desperate need to feel good about myself that I have reflected my teaching onto my self. I am a good person because I am a good teacher.

Yet I am more than just my job. I am so much more. I have been blessed with a wonderful wife and two amazing girls. That is what I will be remembered for - not how I taught factions. That is why I no longer want to be Erin Gruwell.

Erin: You have done something amazing, but the price is something I can’t afford. Good for you. I’ll stay here.