A four-letter word that most Columbus teachers avoid
My momma and daddy did their best to teach me right from wrong, and for the most part, their lessons stuck. I inherited a solid collection of morals to live by, and I think they have served me well, or so I hope.
One of the most important lessons my parents taught me was the power of our words. I was very blessed to grow up in a home where the tongue was not a weapon. What came out of our mouths tended to be kind and wholesome, and for the most part, words were filtered through a moral compass. It made for a pretty nice upbringing, for sure.
Just as most of us, I was given the list of four letter words I was not supposed to say, and in my house, we had to quickly learn how to choose our words carefully. My parents demonstrated how to use vocabulary strategically, and thank goodness, that discipline of the tongue stuck.
But there’s a four letter word I am still struggling to overcome, even to this day.
In the context I most often use it, the word incites a division, a split between the inferior and the superior. It designates the haves and the have-nots, and it denotes the subtle lowering of status. Here’s an example of the word in such context:
“Hey, Sheryl, what do you do for a living?” someone asks. I reply, “I’m just a teacher.” Even sometimes, when I’m speaking to my friends, I shrug myself off and say things like, “But what do I know; I’m just a teacher.”
Just a teacher. Hmmm…
I’m not the only one, though. An inferiority complex plagues many of the courageous people working in the education profession. In our society, for some odd reason, being a teacher pales in clout to such professions as law or medicine or Fortune 500 business. It’s sad, but true.
I think it’s only been in the last few years, since working here in Muscogee County alongside some of the most impressive educators and surrounded by some of the most supportive professionals outside education that I have begun to realize that I am not just a teacher. Teachers with names like Lester, Sipling, Gouine, Lawrence, Hull, Ellis, Gray, Ginther, Crouch, Shumate, Estes, and so many more, show me that every day.
When a teacher gets ahold of the mentality that there is nothing “just” about this profession, taking a back seat is no longer an option. She boldly assumes her position as a potential-speaker, and he walks with strength as a maker of destinies. Teachers who truly understand the power of their role in changing lives disallows them to ever say, “I’m just a teacher.”
That’s what is happening to me on a daily basis. It’s another lesson momma and daddy taught me – surround yourself with people who inspire you, challenge you, and bring out the best in you. I have been in the presence of true greatness; from dedicated custodians, to loving bus drivers, to amazing teachers, to strong administrators, their greatness has been contagious. And there is not a city more supportive of its teachers than Columbus. So, add both of these factors together, and a teacher can’t help but be positively affected.
So, I’m making a vow – to my parents, my colleagues, and all the people in the community who love and adore teachers. I will work on getting that foul four letter word out of my vocabulary and helping others to do the same. For we are teachers, and very proud to be so.
Sheryl Green is a local secondary educator in Columbus, Georgia. To correspond with Sheryl, please email her at: sherylkgreen14@yahoo.com.
This story was originally published October 2, 2018 at 12:54 PM.