When youre a teacher family dinners often get ruined....really ruined.

Because one of your loved ones will want to discuss education, or teachers, or their
unions; and invariably at some juncture in the dinner-time chit-chat, a lesser-loved
one will offer proof for his or her opinion by reminding those gathered that teachers
dont understand working in the real world. People nod in agreement and I am
left wondering what it must be like out there in the real world.
My sixth day in the classroom was September 11, 2001. Yes, THAT September 11 th.
The one that will live on forever in the airport line-ups and in the memories of
anybody who witnessed the events of that day. Just after I walked into my second
period class the Principal announced that New York had been attacked and
thousands were presumed to have perished. The fourteen year olds remained
silent - so did I. After a minute or two, I started talking in an attempt to fill the
silence and maybe help the students understand, cope with, and process the news,
all the while not having the slightest clue how I felt about the whole thing and
wanting nothing more than to spend some time alone considering what it all meant.
And in that moment, we weighed notions of good and evil, and anger and hatred
amidst the dark shadow of tribalism and foreign policy, and as I struggled with my
own thoughts I cautioned the students not to allow the actions of a few to colour
their judgement of races, religions or nations, and I urged them to think critically
about the news reports that would come in the days that followed.
Then there was the time the fourteen year old boy just started crying at the end of
class. I found out later that his parents were getting divorced. Or the time I had a
talk with the girl who overdosed a couple of weeks earlier, or when I talked to a
young man about setting some goals shortly after his return from a stay in the
correctional system.
And then there was the time I had to help explain to a class of about 30 teens, that
their friend/classmate wasnt absent, he had killed himself the night before. We sat
in silence for quite some time; then there were some questions, and some tears.
Together we struggled to make it through the moment, and existed in the presence
of pain and loss and somehow the students managed to comfort me, and Im pretty
sure I helped them too. I spent nearly two weeks trying to figure out what to write
about this student when I was asked to commemorate his life in the yearbook, I
think I got it right.
And I would be remiss if I didnt mention the death of a colleague a few years ago she was in her early thirties and had been married for a total of two months.
Students and staff really liked her, and one Thursday morning we learned she was
gone. Forever. I helped to create a video of student tributes for the memorial
service we had at school, and I spoke at that same memorial, in front of students, in
front of my co-workers and in front of her family. I tried to provide some degree of
context for the random horrors that happen in life, and to provide a place of
memory and learning for our school community in the moment. In the end, I think I
made a positive difference in the days that followed our dear friends passing.
Ive had talks with gang members about their life choices. And a couple of years
ago shortly before graduation, a student who was unsure of her gender and sexual

identities, asked me if I thought she would make it, I told her that I believed in her
and that I knew she would make it. It was one of many chats we had about life.
There was also the time I spoke to a graduating student about her mental health
struggles and encouraged her to seek help for her issues, (she eventually did seek
help). Sadly, more and more it seems like teachers are regularly speaking to their
students about mental health.
Just a few months ago, I listened as one of my students spoke about how he had
fished a dying man out of his condos pool in a too late effort to save his life, and I
got him to talk about his feelings and what he had seen. Eventually, I was able to
get him in touch with some counselling.
Maybe it is true, teachers dont know what its like in the real world. The real world
of profit and loss and balance sheets is foreign to us, but the interpersonal
inventories we trade in are the essence of the real world for those we serve.
I am not unique. Every teacher has these stories. This is only half a teaching
career worth of stories. And I dont know what the next fourteen years will bring.
Of course thats assuming I will actually be able to retire after thirty years of being
in the classroom.
On those days when the unusual happened, and I had to deal with death, or divorce,
or abuse, or drug use, or criminal activities, or terrorism, I never once thought about
my compensation package. I thought a lot about how to make a bad moment
slightly better, or manageable, or how to make sure the students werent alone with
their thoughts when their thoughts were too much of a burden to carry. And I tried
to be, and I cried while being, just human....just a grown-up who cares, and who
happened to be in the room when life happened, or tragically stopped happening.
And in the years since, I have thought about those moments often, they never leave
you, and truthfully, on those days, I never once thought that I needed more pay to
do this stuff. In fact, I simply accepted the fact that these moments are the logical
outcome of the career choice I made and I was honoured to be entrusted with the
opportunity to counsel, to mentor, to encourage, and to provide context to the
unimaginable. But the pay was never a thought.
Until I got home.
When I return home, and I see my wife, and I see our daughter, and I think about
our dreams, and her future and her opportunities, thats when I think about the pay,
and the benefits, and the pension and the time off. And while in many ways our
work is charitable in nature, my family could never afford to exist in the real world
on good deeds, warm feelings, and rewarding moments. And when I look into my
little girls eyes, I most certainly think it is reasonable to ask for my real world fair
share and occasionally a cost of living increase.
Rob Scott
June 9, 2015