I cannot help but chuckle each time I think about the high-sounding essays I wrote as a prospective teacher. Come on now. What did I really know about being a teacher? Half the time, I felt like I was pulling ideas and sentences out of my— books. As much as I tried not to, I am sure everything sounded naïve and very cliché. But in all seriousness, now that I have my own classroom, one notion I can still confidently claim is that while idealism fades over time, at the heart of any good educator is a hope that change is possible, and teachers can make a difference—as cliché as that may sound.

A week before the first day of class, I was hired to teach math at a pre-dominantly Hispanic high school in Southwest Detroit. Raised in suburban America, I had no grasp of how to be an effective teacher in an inner-city context. The most prominent and memorable picture of success was Hollywood’s glorified portrayal of a novice teacher transforming a classroom zoo of wild, unruly students into a shockingly peaceful space for learning and mutual edification. Even though I knew that movies romanticized teaching and often dramatized the impact, I craved the kind of influence “teachers” on the big screen had. I wanted to be the kind of teacher students raved about, long after they had graduated. What inspired teacher does not start off that way?

During my first few months of teaching, I could not get over my students’ lack of motivation and poor performance. In many of my classes, half my students were failing (with an “F”), some were surviving precariously with a D, and the rest were satisfied with “C’s.” What frustrated me even more was the misbehavior and apathy some demonstrated despite numerous efforts of showing them that I truly cared and wanted to help!

When the first semester ended and few things had changed, an array of emotions and thoughts stirred up in my heart. Do I really have as much influence as I have been hyped up to believe? Is it really possible to have a profound effect on these teenagers? Can I truly believe that all students can learn—even the least motivated of students? Can I really expect… change?

If I had to be honest, I shrink back whenever I consider the commitment to see change and transformation through, because the more I experience, the more I realize how costly that kind of commitment is. It is not the hard work that deters me; rather, it is the cost of my heart that unnerves me. Every time I try teaching and investing in students who consistently disrespect me and show no interest in success, I am tempted to throw in the towel and quit. If you don’t care, then I don’t care. Why should I go out of my way to invest in you when you could potentially never ever—change? I learned in college that a quarter to one third of new teachers leave within their first three years of teaching, and 50% of teachers leave poor urban schools within 5 years. Luckily, I have gotten beyond that point of wanting to give up entirely (that was first semester). However, this whole year has seriously challenged my beliefs and the extent to which I am willing to believe them.

Many years ago, I made the decision to be a teacher as a heroic response to my growing passion for social change. At any rate, I am not sure if teaching has made me feel any more heroic now than when I first started—like the way I see it happen in the movies—but it has taught me a great deal about, well, just about everything. I have also collected a good number of stories along the way, and to close out I wanted to share one that basically encapsulates the major lesson I learned this past year.

One day when one of my classes played “Geometry Jeopardy,” one of my unmotivated students actively participated. Motivated by the competition, he tried really hard to earn points for his team, and was more or less successful. However, toward the middle-end of the game, his team started to fall far behind, and in his frustration, he gave up. I am not sure how to describe my emotion, but I was genuinely upset! Maybe it was because my mom and dad instilled in me at an early age that I should never ever quit, that I should always finish what I start, no matter what. Or maybe it was because I had been observing that almost all at-risk children give up immediately at any sign of adversity. For whatever reason, I was not about to let this student of mine miss out on the prospect of winning just because he was experiencing a perceived loss. José*, never give up. Never EVER give up! The game isn’t over yet! You may be losing—but you just never know!

(Caption: For a Geometry project, one of my students arranged a variety of polygons to form a picture of the statue of David.)

I do not know why I was so worked up that day. I mean, seriously, it was just a game. But as I reflected, I realized that passionate plea was meant for me as much as it was meant for José. Never give up. I may not struggle with getting through school, but I struggle constantly with overcoming the iron wall of unbelief—unbelief in myself, in the people around me, and even God Himself. Having faith requires that I rebel against the status quo and endure opposition, even when hope is nowhere to be seen.

And so this is where the novice ends her commentary. My experience has presented more questions than answers, posed more problems than solutions. However, my movie is not over yet. Quite frankly, I am not sure how the movie will turn out. I would like to hope that it will end beautifully with a community of people transformed; but believe it or not, the combination of being a Christ-follower and teacher does not necessarily guarantee that transformation happens. In the beginning, I made a single claim, to which I would like to add. At the heart of any good educator is a lasting hope that change is possible, and teachers can make a difference. I am unsure about a lot of things, but if I am to continue on this pursuit of seeing God transform my world, I must persist in my hope in God, “whose hope does not disappoint, because God has poured out his love in our hearts by the Holy Spirit” (Romans 5:5).

For the record, José’s team won Jeopardy that day. At the end of the period, I slapped on this huge smile and shouted to him as he was leaving, I told you so! It is funny how things end sometimes. Who knows. Maybe Christ will say the same to me the day I leave this earth. Who knows… Only God knows.

(Caption: You're probably wondering what's up with the photo at the beginning of this article. That picture and this one were illustrations from a geometry lesson on dilations. What happens when you dilate an original without proportionally enlarging or reducing all dimensions?)