There is something about February. Call it the horse latitudes of the academic year or the moment when we batten down the hatches against the assessment storm– either way, it doesn’t change the nature of the ceaseless sea surface stretching out before and behind you.
The holidays have passed and the summer beckons from months away. Parents, students, administrators and teachers are caught in the yawning maw of that seemingly eternal point between beginning and end – with only the Big Test breaking that offing horizon. You’re drifting in the middle.
It was in these doldrums I found myself speaking with a student who was a little overwhelmed by our position in the whole school year. She was down because of the grades trailing in her wake and apprehensive about the tasks and tests looming in her path.
It was in that moment she turned on me, dropping accusations of indifference: “You’re just like all the other teachers; you don’t care.” This charge didn’t halt the exchange. We continued to talk. We were in class, and we still had work to do. Amid this conversation, she finally asked, “Why do you teach?” And in the rhythm of the dialogue I replied, “Because I love kids.” Know this response elicited more talk, and come our next school day, we will both be back at it because we each know the other cares – but it caused me to pause and ponder. Why do I teach?
We all know the axiom that those who can’t, teach. We also know teachers are really only in it for June, July and August – well, really, part of June, all of July, and some of August, but summer nonetheless. Truly though, that’s not me, and I have a sneaking suspicion it’s not the majority of my colleagues, either.
Teachers can, and summer mostly means another line of work. No, the vast majority of us are in it out of love. But what kind of love? According to the ancient Greeks, there were at least four types of love; storge, eros, agape and philia. So which is it?
Storge is an affectionate form of love describing the bond between family members or owner and pet. It is accepting and does not ask for anything in return, but it is reciprocal in its character. Two are necessary for storge to exist. Even though a pair is crucial, storge is unconditional, therefore it cannot describe the love teachers have for students. There are two involved, but our work requires a response. Teaching and learning are connected. The student must demonstrate some kind of growth from our tutelage. Learning is legally required in our schools, hence storge is illegal.
Passionate in spirit, eros is also a mismatch for the love teachers have for their profession. A teacher who teaches from a stance steeped in eros ends up on the cover of the National Enquirer or the first few pages of US Weekly. They tend not to score too highly on any kind of educator effectiveness rubric that doesn’t include “touching” students. Rightly, there are laws against eros in education. It is simply not good for the institution and society.
Agape is much closer to the type of passion teachers hold for their vocation. It is self-sacrificing and true. It is a form of love resting upon a willingness of the one to work for the good of the other. It describes the mindset teachers hold as they plan for each day’s lesson. Educators put everything out on display daily and are willing to attempt new methods to engage students. But it is similar to storge in that it is unqualified, expecting nothing from the recipient. This is where a disconnect from education occurs:
Teaching seeks learning. Something must result, must occur from the effort. The focus of the love is obliged to respond, but agape expects nothing. It is not a model of love that can educate because it allows for passivity.
The last form of love, according to the ancient Greeks, is philia. A mindful love. Not passionate like eros, but a truly reciprocal state. Philia rests upon familiarity, equality and virtue. Both parties are expected to engage in a relationship out of respect for each other and the task at hand. Each is expected to raise the sail. All are liable in the completion of the voyage. We depend on each other.
Philia is the form of love that describes most every teacher’s passion for teaching. Philia is why we get up in the morning and face each and every student who walks through our schools’ doors. We all have a goal to reach. We teach, you grow. We are here, and we have dreams to realize. There is no room for passivity. Every person in a school must shoulder the load: parents, administrators, students and teachers. We all have a responsibility in keeping this ship afloat. The voyage requires crew members not passengers, and we do it out of love.
John Hise is an instructional coach at Escalante Middle School. Reach him at jhise2@durango.k12.co.us.
