“You said the same thing to me last night. When you thought I wasn’t telling you the whole story. So I’ll ask you again – what’s the real reason you want to teach the third grade?”
“Because it was my last good year in school,” he said. “Until a couple of years ago, in fact, it was my last good year, period. And it was all because of Mr. Morris. He was a retired army officer who got into teaching later in life, and he knew exactly what I needed. Not the mindless discipline I had later in military school, but a specific plan just for me. He didn’t take any crap in class from the very beginning, and as soon as I began acting up, he told me that I’d have to stay after school. I thought I’d just sit in the classroom with a book or he’d have me clean up or whatever, but instead he had me run laps around the lower school and do push-ups every time I passed him. And the whole time, he kept telling me that I was doing great, that I was really fast or strong or whatever, so it didn’t feel like punishment. He did the same thing at recess the next day, and then he asked if I could start showing up early every day because it was clear that I had a gift for running. That I was stronger than the other kids. Better than the other kids. Looking back, I know he was doing it because of my ADHD and other emotional crap, and that all he really wanted to do was burn off my excess energy so that I could sit still in class.”
His voice grew softer as he went on. “But back then, it was the first time I could ever remember being praised, and after that, all I wanted to do was make him even more proud of me. I buckled down and school started to get easier for me. I caught up in reading and math, and I was better behaved at home, too. Fast forward a year to Mrs. Crandall’s class, and all that went right out the window. She was mean and angry and she hated boys, and I went back to being the troubled kid I used to be. After that, my parents shipped me off, and you already know the rest of that story.”
He let out a long breath before facing her. “That’s why I want to teach the third grade. Because maybe, just maybe, I’ll come across a kid like me and I’ll know exactly what to do. And in the long run, I know how much that single year might mean to that kid. Because without Mr. Morris so long ago, I would never have considered going back to college now and becoming a teacher.”
While Colin spoke, Maria kept her gaze fixed on him. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised, considering everything else you’ve told me,” she said. “But I am.”
“Because?”
“It’s inspiring. Why you want to become a teacher, I mean. I don’t have any stories like that. Half the time, I’m not even sure why I became a lawyer in the first place. It just kind of happened.”
“How so?”
“When I first got to college, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. I thought about business school or getting a master’s and I even debated whether or not to go to medical school. It was hard enough just to pick a major, and even in my junior year, I still had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. My roommate, on the other hand, was set on going to law school, and I sort of convinced myself that the idea was a lot more glamorous than it really is. The next thing I knew, I was applying to law school, and three years later, I had a job lined up with the DA and was studying for the bar. And now, here I am. Don’t get me wrong – I’m good at what I do, but sometimes it’s hard for me to imagine that I’ll be doing it the rest of my life.”
“Who says you have to?”
“I can’t just throw my education away. Or the past four years. What would I do?”
He scratched at his jaw. “I think,” he finally said, “you can do whatever you want. In the end, we all live the life we choose for ourselves.”
“What do your parents think about you being back in school?”
“I think they’re still wondering whether I’ve really changed, or whether I’ll revert to being the guy I used to be.”
She smiled, liking that he said what he thought without worrying what she might think.