Occupation

Today, as of 10:10am, I am no longer a student!

For the past all-of-them-so-far years, whenever I have been called upon to list my occupation, I've always, paused, thought about how I don't really have one, and then written "Student". Such seems to be the industrially/commercially/socially/financially acceptable way to describe oneself when one has neither occupation, prospects, nor experience. As of this morning, I am only faced with the first part of my dilemma: the problem of what to write.
Of course, I've traded my bird in the hand for two in bush today. I'm not exactly a teacher yet. I could call myself a teacher-candidate, but that comes across even more indefinite than "student". Until I have a job or my OCT certification or - preferably - both, I'll be hard-pressed to self-identify as a teacher. Shame the census is coming so quickly.

Regardless, something monumental has happened today and I am determined to celebrate. For 5 long years in university and 13 years before that, almost every worldly concern has been tied up in my performance in "school" - an imaginary world where I can fail and it not affect anyone else except my relationship with my mother. And scholarships, although that's quite inextricably tied to the first concern as well. I have navigated a complicated meritocratic hoop-maze in order to get what amounts to three enormously important pieces of paper and a number of ancillary pages of somewhat-less significance. I have poured literal and figurative blood, sweat, and tears into "school". After 18 years of my life, it has kinda been the only thing I have known.
The obvious joke, especially for graduating BEd students, is that we've gone to school for altogether too long to then trap ourselves back in school for the rest of our careers. We are now the agents of this thing called "education" - the terraforming process we inflict on society's most valuable assets in order that they may more perfectly reflect us. But I feel put-upon to defend the teacher's calling a bit (albeit with a fair sprinkling of tongue-in-cheek) because I find the obvious joke a little oversimplistic. For many of my colleagues finishing today or yesterday, or even still trapped in that exam room (I write pretty fast), teaching is the logical next step because they don't know where else to go. All they know is school and so to school they will dedicate the remainder of their working lives. And maybe they are even chasing a dream of "fixing", "improving" or "rescuing"education - goals I find admirable (we ought often to admire dreamers even if their dreams are really really silly). For many, this is easy or logical or their fall-back position (I'm looking at you, art teachers!) But I refuse to be whitewashed by my society's low expectations. Teaching isn't just important - anyone can see that. Teaching is hard work. Back-breaking work. Day-in and day-out, 12 hours a day, 6 days a week work. Being a teacher gets no breaks, no real lunch hours, no empty weekends. Because if you're doing it well, taking care of 25+ children or youth is not just hard work to their face - it's a lot of homework. And not only supervising and entertaining, but challenging, developing, and growing their minds, bodies, hearts and capabilities is a Herculean task to demand of a publicly (under-)funded, socially derided, bureau-saturated, hyper-regulated institution run principally by people who spent their last year of university making collages and paper mache.

To make a long story short ("Too late!"), the first smug parent, smart-mouthed student or bus driver to wave a finger at me and remind me about my "summers off" will be making a big mistake.

Then again, not like I'd actually make a fuss to his face. I am kinda looking forward to summers.