By Tom

On the last day of school, I gave my fourth graders an extra
recess for the first time all year. At one point, a girl walked up and said, “Mr.
White, what’s your dream?” We talk a lot about dreaming big and working hard to
catch those dreams. It was an interesting question.

I thought of all the dreams I once had: centerfielder, park
ranger, milkman, wide receiver, ophthalmologist, sail maker, ski bum. Those had
all come and gone, some more quickly than others.

Then I thought about some of my colleagues; people with whom
I had come into the teaching profession and many with whom I had gone through
National Board Certification. A lot of those people seem to have “risen up the ranks;” and moved into leadership positions as principals, administrators, instructional
coaches, and things of that ilk.

Then I thought of myself. Here I was, doing the same job I
started doing 29 years ago, and working at the same school for the last
twenty-five years. Was there something wrong with me? Am I not dreaming
anymore?

Actually, no. There’s nothing wrong with me. And I am still
dreaming. I have looked at other options within the education profession. If I
wanted to, I could become a principal, an administrator, a coach, or whatever.
But I don’t want to. I simply prefer to teach than to support those who teach.
Not that there’s anything wrong with those other people. I have nothing but
respect for those who choose to support those of us who teach. They are
important and necessary.

But they aren’t teaching, which is what I want to be doing.

Which is why I looked at that little girl right in the eyes and
answered, “My dream is to teach fourth grade in Lynnwood, Washington.”

“But you’re already doing that.”

Exactly.