It never ceases to amaze me how clearly society has ranked and labeled professions. This job is worthy, that one is not, we’re taught this from the moment we set a tiny foot into the modern world. And, non-coincidentally, the level of prestige associated with a profession is directly proportional to its potential for a Lexus-owning Bergdorf-shopping St. Barths-vacationing income. I recently heard a quote that struck me as brilliant: “If [the work] didn’t suck, it wouldn’t be prestigious.” It’s pretty fascinating, when you think about it, how we’ve built a society based on making yourself deliberately miserable in order to achieve success and supposed happiness. What a great paradox.

Today’s story is from someone who had the balls to shrug off these valuations and labels to follow perhaps the lowest-ranked path on the societal totem pole: teaching in urban public schools. Personally, I respect the hell out of anyone who can not only tolerate a roomful of teenagers on a daily basis but also manage to contribute to their educations without the regular use of death threats. Here it is:

“Right out of college I worked for a large law firm in Washington, DC.  My heart sank my very first day of work - the moment I found out I was assigned to the Insurance Insolvency Practice Group.  The title practically dares you to drop it at a party and see how many buzzes you can kill.

I didn’t mind the long hours or the menial jobs that some might take as an affront to a Bachelors of Science.  What I did mind was the Happy Face Calendar my supervising partner emailed to me.  It was reminiscent of something my mom had used to potty train my sisters and brother.  This partner explained that I had misspelled “Casualty” in a draft Excel spreadsheet.  This was unacceptable and indicative of a serious problem.  Luckily for all of us, she had taken it upon herself to fashion this calendar wherein I would earn a happy face if I didn’t make any typos in ANYTHING I wrote, not just the drafts of the practice group newsletters, but even short emailed responses to her.

After putting in a slow and painful year, I quit and moved back in with my parents in Austin.  Right about that time, a barrage of articles were being written about “Boomerang Kids” presumably by authors who prided their generation in being above something as pathetic as running back to mommy and daddy.

I had preferred to think I was somewhat brave to give up a cushy job at a top law firm to try to “find my passion.”  Suddenly, I felt not only unoriginal, but disparaged.  Nonetheless, I started studying for the GREs and doing graduate research at the University of Texas.  While the work was far more interesting and my supervisors were infinitely cooler and not at all prone to patronizing behavior, it was the volunteer math tutoring program I did for high school students that I fell in love with.

When I decided what I really wanted to do was teach, the reactions I got were lukewarm at best.  Even other people in the teaching courses I signed up for would say things like, “you could do so many things, are you sure you want to teach?” Random people would ask “whatever happened to law school or medical school?”  People who had once taught would ask me, “had I ever actually been in a classroom?  Did I have any idea what I was in for?”

A fifth grade teacher in Austin was the only person to actively support this idea.  He assured me that I would love teaching, I would love the age group and I had a great personality for it.  I clung to this lonely shred of encouragement, making it a mantra of sorts, to drown out the other ambivalent-to-critical responses.

When I told people I had been accepted to NYC Teaching Fellows, their reactions stunned me.  I felt like I had told people I was expecting a baby and instead of congratulating me they had given me a nervous glance and ask if I was going to keep it.

I am pleased to report that my bastard child of a job is doing just great, thank you.

Obviously, it’s a challenge.  My high school in the South Bronx has its fair share of problems: someone set the bulletin board outside my classroom on fire, students have threatened staff with knives, and there is endless talk of gangs.  Not to mention that on a daily basis I stand in front of a room full of 14-17 year old (freshman), many of whom listed “video games” as one of the top three things they are thankful for, and try to convince them to care about algebra. 

It wasn’t unheard of for me to pass out homework, or even a test, and have kids tell me “no, thank you” they simply weren’t interested. But these challenges were far more compelling than the challenge of deciphering a Scheme of Arrangement of an insolvent insurance company.

The rewards of teaching - though certainly not as lucrative as those in the legal field - are far more valuable to me.  Working with kids has been way more fun than I could have imagined.  They make me laugh every single day.  They teach me new words (brick, wallin’, tag up), introduce me to new music (reggaeton) and offer unlimited fashion advice (Nike Ups, tighter jeans, gel in my hair and earrings with my name on them). 

I am lucky that I have parents who supported me, quite literally, throughout my career decisions.  I am lucky that I found a job that is such a perfect match for me.  Best of all, I am lucky that I get to work with such amazing little people whom I love more and more every day. ”