Teacherscribe’s Teaching Tip #74
The Myth of Teacher (Part 5 – last installment)
The boulder rushes back down. I sigh, aching from head to toe. I take a deep breath, look out over the top of the mountain. I exhale, letting the breath go free and descend . . . grinning.
I ever push the rock over the top. Despite that I also become master of my fate. I now can enjoy the work, hopeless as it may be. I can revel in the toil. I can rejoice in my effort, for it is a worthy effort. Teaching is noble. It is attempting the impossible. I know I will never teach every single student every single day every single thing I intend. What is important is the work. The task. The exalted effort. As Camus concludes, "The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy" (232). My fate belongs to me. My teaching is my thing. It is tragic, but above all, heroic.
I squat, dig my heels in, place my shoulder against the granite, and with all my strength from my toes to my neck, I push. The boulder budges an inch. I don’t dare a look up the mountain. I keep my eyes focused on the ground, charting my progress inch by inch . . .