My Unlikely Journey to the Classroom
The Accident That Changed Everything
About three months after I graduated from high school in 1978, I suffered a very serious accident in the home where I grew up. My brother had dashed into the garage, pushing the kitchen door open as far as it would go. That door, with its heavy spring closer, was primed to slam—unless I stopped it first.
Instinctively, I reached out. Instead of my palm finding the wooden frame, it hit the pane of glass in the center of the door. I’d done that hundreds of times before, but this time my hand shattered the glass, even ripping through the wire screen beyond it. The glass tore open the underside of my wrist, severing nerves, tendons, and arteries. Thanks only to a quick-thinking neighbor, I didn’t bleed to death before EMS arrived.
A New Direction, Thanks to Becky
I’ll save the gore for another day, but that accident set my life on a very different course. Looking back, I can see it was God who used that accident to send a petite high school junior named Becky into my life. Less than two years later, we were married: I was 20, she was 19, and we thought we were grownups.
Two and a half years after we got married, we welcomed our first child—a son—and officially became Mom and Dad. Suddenly, adulthood felt much more real—and much more complicated.
For the next 12 years, I worked in industrial and commercial sales, and during that time, we added another son and a daughter to our family. The money was enough for basic living, and our economic future seemed promising. It wasn’t. (If I’d truly been a grownup, maybe I would’ve seen that sooner.)
Economic Reality Hits Hard
The 1980s saw many once-profitable businesses closing their doors. Suddenly, people like me, with just a high school diploma, found our earning potential had evaporated.
In 1992, I met some college students who were older than me. Hearing their stories about going back to school, a crazy idea formed in my mind: Was I smart enough for college? Had I forgotten everything I’d learned in high school? Both fears proved groundless.
Discovering My Path to Teaching
I began as a criminal justice major, but quickly realized it wasn’t my future. A retired homicide detective teaching one of my classes was blunt: “You won’t be helping people. You’ll be working with the scum of the earth, on the worst days of their lives.”
As a 32-year-old freshman with a wife, three kids, and a mortgage, dropping classes wasn’t an option. So, I stuck it out. After class, I’d join classmates for coffee in the cafeteria. The teachers were decent but not seasoned educators, so the lessons didn’t always stick.
During those cafeteria chats, I became the go-to person for explaining what we’d learned. Again and again, classmates told me I had a knack for making things clear. And so, another crazy idea began to form: Maybe I could be a teacher.
The only catch? I’d have to go to school full-time, year-round, for nearly four years—while somehow making enough money to keep my family afloat.
Becoming—and Remaining—a Teacher
Three years and four months after starting college, I graduated from the University of Houston. On my last day, I took three three-hour final exams and had two job interviews, both of which resulted in offers. I accepted a teaching position, where I would spend the next 12 years.
Early in my first year, someone told me it takes five years to become a good teacher. I remember telling my mentor I wanted to be good right away. I wasn’t, of course, but I kept at it year after year.
More than two decades later, I still want to be a good teacher. Some days I think I am; others, I’m not so sure.
Enduring Friendships: The True Reward
I am most confident of my success when I consider the enduring friendships I enjoy with my former students after 21 years. It’s those relationships that inspire me to continue.
Some of my former students are firmly into middle age with growing families. They seem so grown up, but looking in the mirror and seeing the kid that looks back at me, I’m reminded how looks can be deceiving.
I never planned on being a teacher. But after all those twists—the accident, constant doubts, starts and restarts—I see now that teaching wasn’t just a job; it was the landing place for everything I’d become.
Maybe that’s why I keep coming back: every classroom, every student, is one more proof that unlikely journeys matter.
