I teach now.

Kids are great. I tell myself this almost daily, because to think otherwise would be the end of me and my career, and then I'd be one of those teachers who burned out in a year of teaching, and I'm nothing if not determined not to be a cliche/statistic. My hipster nature strikes again.

Every day, I remind myself that I love doing this thing. Some days, the thought just occurs to me spontaneously, because I rediscover it to be true. Some days, it's what I mutter as a mantra, a phrase that keeps the smile from slipping off my face as I stand at the whiteboard, marker in hand, waiting for an answer that I eventually cave and give to blankly staring students.

Kids are great, though. They really are. They have such interesting thoughts (and isn't "interesting" such a good word, because it has so many definitions, all of which apply to students). They teach me so many interesting things about themselves, about me, about the world as they see it. Essays are snapshots of students' worldviews, a constant reminder that the world is bigger and broader and more diverse than I will ever be able to comprehend on my own.

They say everyone should work in the service industry at some point; it's supposed to teach compassion for those who do the jobs no one wants. To get perspective, I'd recommend reading a semester of student essays.