It is in my blood.  I was destined to be a teacher from the time I was conceived.  I come from a long line of teachers.  It started with my great-grandmother on my mom’s side of the family.  Nellie thought there was no nobler a profession than to be a teacher.  Unfortunately she was never able to achieve her dream.  Her father passed away and she had to take on more responsibility on the farm.  Nellie was never able to finish her schooling and become a teacher.

    Years down the road, Nellie had four children; three girls and a boy.  She instilled in her children her respect for those who teach.  As her children became adults, the three girls began their careers as teachers.

    One of my great-aunts, Kay, is still teaching after more than 30 years.  Neither of her children aspired to teach.  However, her son married a teacher.

    My other great-aunt, June, did not teach for long.  She married a man who became a college professor and they moved around the states, finally settling in Georgia.  Neither of her children teaches.

    My grandmother began teaching at the age of eighteen.  She taught in a one-room schoolhouse for years.  My grandma rode the bus to school in the mornings with her students because she had no other way to get there.  A few years later my grandma married and moved to central Ohio.  She began teaching at a neighborhood school.  In 1955 my mom was born.  My grandma continued teaching. 

    My mom grew up in a family of teachers and decided she would teach as well.  She went away to college to earn her bachelor’s in education.  After receiving her degree, she moved back to central Ohio and eventually married my dad.  My grandma continued to teach until I was born.  37 years in a career she loved.

     The day I was born my mom laid me on her chest and began reciting multiplication facts to me.  A teacher never stops teaching.  I was read to constantly as a child.  My mom taught me to read when I was three.  When I was a little older, my mom began bringing me to her classroom in the summers to help her set it up for the up-coming school year.  When I was tall enough, I began creating bulletin boards for my mom.  My grandma and I would cut the butcher block paper and use the Ellison machine to cut out letters for the board.  I could run a copier by the age of eight.  I also enjoyed helping my mom grade papers at home.  I know it was a big help to her, and I enjoyed doing it.  I thought it was fun.  My best friend and I used to play “school” all the time.  I was always the teacher.  It felt right and natural.

     Shortly before graduating from high school and starting college, my father was offered a part-time job of teaching a class at the local community college.  He taught two quarters a year for five years.  When it was time for me to choose a career, I told my parents I wanted to teach.  I had never considered any other profession.  My mom tried to talk me out of it.  She reminded me of all the hours put in before school starts, grading papers and making lesson plans.  Nothing she said scared me.  Teaching is not something I can get away from, nor is it something I want to.  It is in my blood.