I always wanted to be a teacher and back in the 70’s, I pursued a college degree in Elementary Education. After graduation, I accepted what I thought would be my dream job in a parochial elementary school.

Things didn’t turn out quite as I had hoped. My classroom was comprised of thirty-four kindergartners, most of whom, for reasons beyond my comprehension, insisted on calling me Mrs. Nestle. Five of them didn’t speak English and the father of one of my charges kept pleading that I teach his son to hold the crayon in his right hand instead of his left. I was with the same children from eight am to four pm with no break and I also ate lunch with them. The desks in the classroom were nailed to the floor and I soon realized that childhood games like Duck Duck Goose would probably culminate in black and blue knees and law suits. The principal was a proponent of self-directed student learning. I confessed I wasn’t trained in that technique but she replied, “Not a problem. Just let the children play all day”. And for good measure, she threw in a student teacher who would ostensibly learn invaluable “teaching” expertise from me. Days are endless when teaching isn’t an option and I began to have fantasies of overdosing on paste and finger paint. My dream job was becoming a nightmare.

My day always began with a boy named George arriving at my desk and saying “Mrs. Nestle. I don’t feel well”. I would think to myself “I’m not feeling so hot myself George”, but instead I would happily chirp “Oh, George you’ll be fine. Just sit down and play with the Cuisenaire rods”. This went on for weeks until one day George came to my desk with the usual pronouncement and instead of my cheery response, I knelt down, gave a low growl and said “George. You’re fine. Sit down!”

It wasn’t two minutes later, little Madeleine cautiously approached my desk and whispered “Mrs. Nestle. George just thew up in his lunch pail”. And as I mopped up George’s breakfast, I knew the next day I would be handing in my resignation.

Sometimes what we think will be the path to a lifetime career turns out to be merely a stepping stone along the way. I never went back to teaching. I studied to get another Bachelor’s degree and became a registered nurse, had four little ones of my own and worked as a substitute nurse for the local elementary schools. Ironically, as a nurse, I didn’t mind taking care of the upset tummies of kindergartners.

But I often wonder what ever happened to that student teacher. She probably quit school and entered a nunnery.