Dreaming of driving garbage trucks

At one time in my life I wanted to be a veterinarian. I had it all planned out. I would go live with my grandmother in Starkville, Miss., and attend Mississippi State’s renowned vet school and not have to pay out-of-state tuition. That was the plan.

I’m not exactly sure where the path changed, but I certainly have no regrets. Well, maybe the paycheck difference is a slight contrition.

Think of the time when a teacher along your trek through grade school asked what you wanted to be when you grew up. Doctors, policemen, firemen, astronauts. Then, our lives followed their respective courses, and here we are. Most of us certainly aren’t astronauts.

I taught high school English in a fairly small town in South Carolina for a few years. I was graced with the “Tech Prep” kids because I was the new hire. My classroom was filled with ankle monitors attached to kids with police records and a general disdain for school. These labeled kids were tracked into this particular class because they had no intention to go to college. The school probably plopped them in this “Tech Prep” class because teachers had already given up on them.

But they were mine, and I had to find a way to teach them Henry David Thoreau.

I recall one day having a discussion on their plans and dreams for their futures. Most just wanted to graduate high school and be the first in their families to do so. Others wanted to be professional basketball players, and some had no aspirations whatsoever. One boy, however, shared that he wanted to drive a trash truck.

Isaiah was his name.

He was the quiet one. I never could figure out why Isaiah was labeled and plopped into this particular class like his classmates were. He seemed, well, “normal” by an undefined system of labeling we as classroom teachers use in the field of education. Regardless of why he was placed among miscreants, Isaiah was one of few who seemed to have a plan, and his plan was to drive a garbage truck.

Of all the careers in the world to choose from, a trash truck driver? To my astonishment, Isaiah had already researched the job of hauling refuse. Seems a lucrative business in this small South Carolina town. My job was to take that aspiration and cultivate it, encourage it, aid him in reaching it.

What a difference in perspective, though. I cannot imagine working eight hours a day with the stench of other people’s waste. I would never ever in a million years aspire to drive a trash truck. But Isaiah did.

I count it all joy to be a teacher. Very few professions present such vastness in perspectives. Every year, every class is a unique mixture of all things imaginable. It’s neat, actually, to hear and see the variety. But it’s that diversity that teaches me a valuable lesson in how judgment could have the power to mar someone else’s dream.

Isaiah taught me the value of having vision, aspiring for something. He very well could have been like his classmates with no drive. But he wasn’t, and although I couldn’t imagine myself dealing with trash all day, he deserved my respect and assistance in reaching his goal. He and his dream deserved my acceptance.

As we go through our lives in this melting pot we call home, perhaps there is a bit more grace we could show towards the many different perspectives out there. Teachers have to learn to walk in acceptance; perhaps we could take their lead and walk in grace as well.

Coming home from school one day in that little South Carolina town, I passed a trash truck, and yes, it was driven by Isaiah. I slowed down, pulled up to the driver’s side and proclaimed, “Isaiah! You’re living your dream, aren’t you?” He gave me a big-toothed grin and said, “Hey, Ms. Green! Look at me! I sure am!”

I drove away from that smelly truck learning a lesson: the fragrance of a dream can certainly overpower the stench of judgment.

This story was originally published July 12, 2016 at 4:45 PM with the headline "Dreaming of driving garbage trucks."