I love mountains. If you know me, that’s no secret. I
recently got engaged on top of one, if that tells you anything! Last month, I successfully
completed my first winter climb. If you’d told me a year ago that someday I’d
be standing on top of a snow-covered Japanese mountain, ice axe in hand and
crampons on feet, I would’ve rolled my eyes and told you to pass the Nutella
and leave me alone, I’m trying to watch The
Walking Dead over here… but lo and behold, here’s the proof!
Although as a friend pointed out in a Facebook comment, I
could’ve posted a picture of anyone from my couch while stuffing my face with
Cheetos given my getup. You’re just going to have to trust me on this one,
Internet strangers, that’s me… but for the record, I’ll still take that Nutella
if you don’t mind…
Anyway, back to that mountain. That’s Karamatsu-dake, a
lovely 2,696 meter peak in Japan’s Nagano Prefecture. I climbed it over the
course of 2 days in December (shout-out to David at Kanto Adventures for
putting together yet another fabulous trip). I tend to be the slow poke of the
group any time I hike, so I found myself bringing up the rear for a good
portion of the climb and was left with a lot of time to think. As we made our
way to the summit, one crampon-laden, snowy step at a time, my thoughts
alternated between, “Why the hell am I doing this?” and, “I wonder when we’re
stopping for lunch (I spend an embarrassing amount of time thinking about food
while hiking),” and it dawned on me that mountain climbing has a lot in common with
teaching. I don’t know how many times I’ve uttered to myself, “Why the hell am
I doing this?” as a teacher, whether I’m tumbling down the Pinterest rabbit
hole way past my bedtime; trying to salvage a lesson that is clearly in full
meltdown mode; pumping my students full of sugar at 9 in the morning because
“it’s a holiday!”/obviously I hate myself; or throwing 30- unbudgeted- dollars
at the Target cashier because what teacher can walk past that dollar section
with willpower… and goodness knows lunchtime is never far from my thoughts
during the school day.
As I continued my quest for the summit, I thought some more about mountain climbing and teaching. The similarities kept on coming, and in
no particular order, here they are:
There will be times
when you want to give up.
It amazes me sometimes that I ever make it to the top of any
mountain. There’s always that little nagging voice in the back of my mind
whispering things like, “You’re never gonna make it,” and, “Doughnuts.” I have
to actively work to silence that beast and keep going, even when the task
before me seems impossible. It’s the same with teaching sometimes. I had this
first grade class a few years ago that almost destroyed me. Twenty-six
students, and 13 of them had some kind of need- learning disabilities, English
language learners, multiple behavioral issues… I remember one time when I came
back from taking two days off for a trip, and within an hour no less than 10
coworkers let me know how terrible my class had been for my poor sub. By the
time one of my close friends got to me and told me the same thing, I snapped
and started crying. I felt ready to give up, call my dad and tell him he was
right about what he said when I told him I wanted to be a teacher- “You’ll be
overworked and underpaid!” and find a nice box to live in under a bridge
somewhere. But… I survived. With support from my coworkers and a little
determination, I got through the year, and my students the following year were
like angels descended from heaven in my eyes. At least for the first few weeks,
when the nightmare of the previous year faded into memory. Then they became
your standard first graders, keeping me on my toes and putting me in bed by 9pm
every night!
(For the record, my dad had the best of intentions when he
said what he did. I had long dreamed of becoming a veterinarian and when I
changed my mind during my freshman year of college, he was genuinely concerned
that I would be… well… overworked and underpaid. However, he has the utmost
respect for what we do as teachers, and I have no regrets about my decision).
You need the proper
equipment… and it will cost you.
I just dropped a sweet penny on a new pair of winter
mountaineering boots, and it hurt a little… but they’re so pretty… and
necessary if I want to climb safely and comfortably. Mountain climbing isn’t
exactly a cheap activity. Sure, you’re just heading out into nature. Nature is
free, right?? However, there are many necessities and fun add-ons that you need
when you’re venturing into the outdoors for a serious climb. That stuff ain’t
free.
Let me ask you a personal question: how much of your own
money have you spent on your classroom in the past month? Year? If your answer
is, “I’d rather not talk about it,” (which is my answer), you get what I’m
saying here. Yes, you have a teacher workroom. Yes, you have your sad supply
room- or closet- but does your supply room have adorable little Rudolph cups
that will compliment your winter holiday breakfast decorations so perfectly?
Does it have enough homemade playdoh for all of your students to make models of
the earth when learning about Earth’s layers? Are you going to find the word
sorts that you need to provide appropriate interventions for your struggling
readers? That stuff isn’t hiding behind the crusty old glue sticks in your
school’s pathetic excuse for a supply closet- it’s at the Dollar Store. Or
Target. Or Teachers Pay Teachers. And it costs money. Your money. Good thing my
dad was wrong and we’re all loaded, right?!
Teaching and mountaineering, my two most expensive pastimes.
You will bleed.
During one of my first big hikes, my boyfriend (now, fiance) slipped on some loose rocks as we began descending the mountain. It
didn’t look like a bad fall, and I didn’t think much of it when he calmly
called ahead for our trip leader, “David, I’m bleeding.”
“Is it bad?”
“Yeah.”
A trip to a Japanese hospital and six stitches in his hand later,
Kevin is fine… but oh, the blood. It’s bound to happen sooner or later when
you’re mountain climbing.
Obviously, you’re going to encounter blood from time to time
as an elementary school teacher. Bloody noses, scraped knees- it’s unavoidable.
And gross (I don’t know why I ever thought I wanted to be a veterinarian. I
just wanted to cuddle puppies all day long. How do I get that job?). However,
I’m speaking in a metaphorical sense when I say you will bleed as a teacher.
You will pour your heart into your work, become emotionally invested, and feel
real pain at times. Maybe a parent makes an off-handed comment that sticks with
you, a student that you’ve been trying your damndest to reach just isn’t
responding, or your educational philosophies clash with those of testing
expectations. Teaching will bleed into your personal life and you will bring it
home with you whether you want to or not. The best you can do is try to stem
the flow and find time to heal once in awhile- summer vacation, I’m looking at
you.
Don’t forget to stop
and take in the view. It’s not all about reaching the summit.
My brain has a way of making 10 minutes seem like an hour
when I’m climbing. Sometimes when I’m really feeling the burn, I try to fall
into a trance by repeating some kind of simple mantra in my head to the beat of
my footsteps- “Keep, mov-ing, keep, mov-ing,” or, “Al-most, lunch-time,
al-most, lunch-time.” My mantras are occasionally more obscene depending on my
mood and level of exhaustion, but you get the point. Sometimes I get so caught
up in propelling myself onward and upward that I forget to take in the view. As
I mentioned earlier, I recently got engaged on top of a mountain- Mt. Kita, to
be specific. It’s Japan’s 2nd tallest peak and the climb offers
stunning views of the tallest peak, Mt. Fuji. It was my first experience
carrying a full pack for an overnight trip, and let me tell you, the mantras
got downright filthy. I struggled the whole way. After getting slightly
off-track from the rest of my group and foolishly attempting to follow a couple
of rock climbers up a waterfall (you had to be there- it wasn’t immediately
obvious that it was a waterfall. Also, I’m not very observant), hoisting myself
up multiple ladders and scrambling over a bunch of giant rocks, I had barely
stopped to consider my surroundings… and then Kevin told me to turn around.
There she was, Fuji-san, in all her glory!
This happens to me with teaching all the time. I get caught
up in the daily grind and forget that there are so many reasons to stop and
appreciate my students every day. The summit is the prize at the end of the
climb, the reason to throw down your pack, proclaim, “I made it!” and take a
few selfies to show off on Facebook if I’m being honest (c’mon mountain
climbers, don’t act like it ain’t true). In teaching, the summit is the end of
the school year. June rolls along and I’m ready to trade my pencil skirts and
cardigans for shorts and flip-flops, turn off my alarms, and post the
obligatory, “Summer vacation has officially begun!" status. Yes, I do
have a countdown app on my iPhone to track the number of days left in the
school year, and it may only be January, but my summer is practically filled
with travel plans already.
While dreams of school-free days dance in my head, I’m also
thinking about the end of the year in other terms. Will my students meet the
required benchmarks in reading, writing, and math? Will I have time to complete
all of our math units? How many days will it take to administer the necessary
reading assessments? These standards we
have in place for our children are summits in a sense, too. Reach these peaks
or fail. It’s natural to get bogged down by the weight of your load and trudge
through the school year, dreaming of the end and forgetting that there’s a
whole journey to enjoy along the way.
So you see, mountain climbing and teaching have much more in
common than the need to properly plan your pee breaks around prep periods or
thoroughly dense bushes. Both are taxing and will push you to limits you didn’t
know you had, and both are entirely worth the effort.
