Lessons from the Teacher Who Never Planned to Teach
For the record, I never wanted to be a teacher. Not once while I was growing up. When I got into college, I thought about it once or twice, but quickly shook my head. I’m not built to be a teacher. I’ve always had problems with authority, and teachers—well, they’re supposed to respect authority. And it wasn’t just me who doubted it; other people doubted me too.
On the rare occasion I mentioned teaching, my friends laughed. They’d tell me they couldn’t imagine it, that I was too spontaneous to enjoy it. They weren’t trying to tear me down, but the message was clear: very few people thought I’d fit the role—and honestly, neither did I.
Yet here I am. I go to work, teach a subject I never studied, and (so far) haven’t had any issues with administration. The irony isn’t lost on me. I used to think I’d clash with authority, but instead I spend my days with students questioning mine—about a million times a day.
That puts me in a tough spot. On one hand, I sympathize with them. I know what it’s like to be told to do something you don’t want to, or to do it in a way you don’t agree with. I still hate that, even now. But on the other hand, I have to use my authority to keep the classroom safe and positive. It’s a fine line between two traps, and I struggle daily to balance in the middle.
That gets me thinking: how do I walk that line? I’ve asked myself that every day for months. The truth is, I don’t fully know. But I think I’m starting to figure it out. Here’s what I’ve learned so far about being a good teacher:
- Adapt. Every student, every class, every time of day is different. What worked today might not work tomorrow. That’s just human nature. The kids I teach are constantly changing—moods, energy levels, friendships, everything. If I want to connect with them, I have to stay observant and flexible.
- It’s okay to have bad days. Some days are hard, even when it has nothing to do with the kids. Because like them, I’m human. I’ve learned to remind myself that I don’t have to be a rockstar every single day. When I accept that, I actually relax—and, ironically, become more effective.
- Reporting matters. I hate reporting students. Especially when it’s a kid who’s usually well-behaved. It feels harsh. But I’ve had to remind myself that reporting negative behavior helps protect the classroom environment. Honestly, I’m still working on this one. My sympathy for the kids runs deep, and it’s tough to watch administration come down on them. What helps is trying to address issues early—cutting problems off before they escalate. It doesn’t always work, but at least it gives me a direction.
- Have fun. Kids have built-in emotion detectors. They know instantly if your heart isn’t in it. The best days are when I show up with genuine energy and positivity—and it’s contagious. The room lightens, they engage more, and suddenly we’re in a feedback loop of good vibes. Sometimes, if the day feels heavy, I’ll pause the lesson for a game. We might lose ten or twenty minutes of class, but it pays off in morale every time.
- Plan, plan, plan. I don’t do this nearly enough, but planning is essential. If you think you can wing it all day, you’re wrong. Even if you love spontaneity, planning doesn’t kill it—it just saves your creativity for the moments you actually need it. Good plans set expectations, create structure, and keep everyone on track. The kids respond better when they know what’s coming. Honestly, so do I.
I’m not an expert. I never even wanted to be a teacher. But hopefully you can take something from my experience. And if you’re not a teacher? Be careful—you might accidentally end up one day.
