Be Either a Nurse or a Teacher

Resource Keywords:
TLN Commentaries

Publication Type:

Web Article

Authors:

Year of Publication:

2004

Abstract:

Laura Reasoner Jones explains the advisory culture of her pre-Title IX university--smart women became either nurses or teachers--and says she sees her special-education peers using their innate talents--legal, design, engineering--within the profession of teaching.

Jones, L.R. (2004). Be either a nurse or a teacher. Teacher Leaders Network diaries. Retrieved from the Teacher Leaders Network 11 Apr 2008. Link: http://www.teacherleaders.org/old_site/diaries04_05/LJ07_04_05.html

Full Text:

"Be Either a Nurse or a Teacher"

"I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody."
Marlon Brando, On the Waterfront

As I watch my younger daughter struggle in her college and career choices, I think over and over about what I coulda been, what I shoulda been. And on a slow Tuesday afternoon, when the demands of Local Screening were not too great in my office of 31 special ed teachers, I asked them what they could have been—what their secret calling was. It was fascinating, and a little sad. And it sparked conversation that was light years away from the usual Tuesday afternoon discussions of IEP forms and phonological processes.

I asked, "What would you have been if you had not become a teacher?" To a couple of blank looks, I added, "I should be an engineer." They got it right away, and the answers came fast and furious, usually with a story. "I should have been a doctor." "I wanted to be a lawyer." "I should have finished my math degree and become a mathematician." "I was going to be an Olympic ice skater." "I wanted to be a detective."

Some were fanciful: "I should have been a singing handyman." "I should have been an interior designer." "I should be raising golden retrievers." "I should be a gourmet cook who sings opera."

Then came the stories: "I wanted to become a pharmacist, but my family didn't want me to go to school in inner-city Pittsburgh." "I thought I should get married." "I know that it was impractical." "My mother said, 'Be either a nurse or a teacher.'" "There's no future in archaeology."

For me, it was this: I went to Purdue University, a school I love with a deep and abiding passion, to the point where I still am in mourning that we could not afford to send Julie there after she was admitted. As a freshman, I went into the Dean of Women's counseling office to take some career tests, thinking I might want to go into Pharmacy. I had great math scores and had loved high school chemistry. After taking the tests, which showed that I should be around people, the Assistant Dean of Women sat down with me and said, "Look, dear, you might want to consider going into education. After all, you can't raise a family and be a pharmacist." I was 17, on full scholarship, with no family in sight. And that's how I ended up in education.

Most of my teacher colleagues and I are the pre-Title IX women, the ones who were in college before 1973. Young women today don't understand how it was back then. Careers in the non-traditional fields just didn't come across the radar screen, or, if they blipped for a minute, were gently discouraged by well-meaning friends and relatives. Before Title IX, "smart girls" became nurses or teachers, and the world is a better place for it. Smart girls could and can do anything well.

We older teachers who are nearing retirement need to remember that we are contenders. We are making significant differences in children's lives, and we are very good at what we do. We love it. And we do it every single day, for low pay and little gratitude. And as I look at my friends and their thwarted choices, I see little pieces of their dreams in their daily work: The would-be doctors and detectives are highly skilled at diagnosing developmental delays and "prescribing" effective treatments. The potential lawyer knows the ins and outs of due process and keeps us on the straight and narrow. The interior designers make our shared quarters a warm and inviting place to work with their little touches that I, the frustrated engineer, never think about. I use my engineering aptitude to keep the computers running and build Blackboard sites. And the golden retriever raiser is one of the warmest, most giving people we have on staff. Each of us is somebody.

It is very hard to watch Julie struggle to make choices and find a career path. But I hope that she can find something she will love and will not regret or look back wistfully on years later. I want her to be a contender.