I found myself getting quite emotional a couple of days ago as the face-to-face class an the history of U.S. cities that Bradley (my outstanding Teaching Assistant) and I have taught this past term.
I sometimes find myself thinking about other jobs, places where I might have a nice office, more job security, and students who aren't choosing between the cost of books and the cost of food. But I can never quite bring myself to apply for those jobs. I grew up in rural Clatsop County, the son of a mother who had taught in one-room schoolhouse in rural Tillamook county before she married my dad, who made a living as a mill worker, longshoreman, and commercial fisherman. True, I co-edited my college's literary arts magazine--at Blue Mountain Community College.
So it just feels right to be working with so many first-generation students, people from diverse ethnic backgrounds and walks of life, so many students who went to community college first or flunked out years ago and are coming back and who are delightfully all over the place in their political and religious views, so much more brash and refreshing than the standard upper-middle-class leftism that feels like a sort of requirement among liberal-arts students at more prosperous universities. It's a blessing to work with so many students who see the world so differently from each and have kids and jobs, hard-won experience and some scars and wisdom from it all.
Thank you.
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