The Dream Deferred

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

-Langston Hughes

            Ever since I was in high school, I’ve wanted to be an English teacher.  Most of that desire comes from a sense of borderline-egocentric altruism that refuses to die; I wanted to make a difference in the world, and I thought the best way to do so was through teaching.  I especially wanted to teach middle school, since I thought that age group was severely underserved.  I also wanted to teach in an urban setting, where students have the greatest need.

            To achieve my dream, I majored in secondary education in college.  I interviewed with Teach for America, but was not accepted.  While this was a little disappointing, I knew plenty of other ways to achieve my dream so I shifted my focus to the traditional teaching route.  When it came time to student teach, I requested a school in the most urban setting available:  Salt Lake City.  Once I was assigned to a middle school there, I moved to Salt Lake from my rural college town specifically to student teach.

            However, after arriving I made the unfortunate discovery that I am lousy with kids.  This discovery rattled me, because I’ve always loved the idea of kids.  I’d envisioned myself as the wise and playful mentor, inspiring the curiosities of otherwise-hampered young minds.  But once I found myself in a classroom with nearly forty packages of puckish pubescence, most of whom seemed determined to disdain me for some inexplicable reason, that vision quickly faded.  My lessons turned into the daily power-struggles they warn you about in teacher preparation courses.  I tried a whole slew of approaches to get things under control, but my students interpreted this shotgun approach as frantic scrambling (an interpretation which is not entirely incorrect).  After over two months of struggle, and when it became clear that things would not get better, I suggested that my mentor teacher take his classes back for the sake of expedience.  He thought that decision was long overdue.

            So where does that leave me now?  What happens to my dream deferred?  Should I continue trying to be a teacher, despite initial setbacks, or is it time to reevaluate my goals?  Where is the line between perseverance and foolhardiness?  I selected the career in the first place because I thought I would be good at it.  If I have to exert herculean effort just to reach basic competence, what’s the advantage of doing of it?  And if I’m going to do something else, what will it be?  During the past four years I was so sure that I wanted to be a teacher that I defined myself as a “Teacher-in-Training.” But if that’s not who I’m going to be, then I have no idea who I am anymore. 

Shall I dry up, like a raisin in the sun? 

Fester like a sore-

And then run? 

Shall I stink like rotten meat? 

Or crust and sugar over

Like a syrupy sweet? 

Maybe I’ll just sag

Like a heavy load.

Or will I explode?