I think it's kind of weird to be writing a "Teaching Philosophy", but I saw so many other teachers doing this that I started wondering: "Shouldn't I write one, too?". In fact, the question was: "Do I have one?".
Well, I'm a teacher. I'm not a teacher because of a lack of opportunity. I didn't start teaching because it was an easy way to make some money during my undergraduate course. At that time some of my classmates started tutoring students, because it was easier than getting a full-time job, and, in the long run, they became teachers. Some of them had intended to be engineers or architects, but during the late 70's and early 80's it was not easy to find a job in these areas. At least, anywhere, anytime, there would be someone asking for a teacher. Mainly, a math teacher, and that is what I am.
As I said, I'm a teacher. A math teacher. Different from some of my former classmates in college, I chose to be a teacher. First, because I do love math, and also because I believe that I have a gift -- I have a special ability for making myself clear when the subject is mathematics. Maybe I'm not making myself clear just now. Maybe I'm not that good using words, and if the words have to be written in another language, it's naturally harder. I like the words, but I'm sure that I don't have any special talent when I try to combine them. Sometimes the words seem to fight and kill each other, struggling for a better place. Numbers are easier. They have their own order, their own places, and a lot of discipline. I like words, but I do love numbers.
I am a Brazilian math teacher. If you didn't know, my mother tongue is Portuguese, not Spanish. When I first taught a class in English, I must confess, I panicked. I looked at those almost fifty faces staring at me, and I thought: "They want to learn math, and I'm here to teach them". I was the assistant of a professor from Venezuela, and I began joking with the students, saying that they might be used to listening to teachers with a bad accent. They laughed, and I believe they gave me their approval at that moment. I felt sort of a wave of self-confidence spreading over my mind, and the words just came to my mouth … and I taught. I was sharing my knowledge, and that made me happy. I was not worried if I was killing the English grammar, and the students were very supportive. After all, I learned English by myself, and my mistakes would be predictable anyway. We were interacting -- in math -- and math is a universal language.
I am a teacher, and I love to be a teacher. I'm not saying that I don't like the smartest students, but I enjoy challenges. Those students who say in the very first class that they don't know math, they don't want to know math and they hate those who know math -- these are my favorites. They usually begin by avoiding questions. They don't have any questions, or, of course, any answers either. They never volunteer to go to the board and insist on showing their bored faces. I used to call these students for a personal interview. In Brazil, teachers don't have offices, so I used to invite them for a walk around the school. I showed them how I cared for each one of them. I would tell them how important they were to me and how useless my work would be if I didn't try to change their minds. I asked them for a "trust vow". I would beg them to let me try to show how wonderful and fun math can be. If I got a dollar for each bad student who I turned into a good one through these talks, my salary wouldn't be as outrageous as it is now.
I am a teacher, and I'm proud of being one. My salary is a shame (What about U.S. $14,730.00 a year -- gross payment(2006)-- 40 hours a week, at one of the best public schools in Rio de Janeiro?); my government doesn't give me any opportunity to improve myself as a teacher (When I sought for a scholarship in order to get a Master's degree, who gave me one? Temple University, Philadelphia, PA, USA!); I work under the worst environmental conditions: no computer labs, no decent library, no ink in the printer and sometimes, no chalk. Why should I be proud of anything? It must sound silly, but I am. When I went to the USA, my students threw a farewell party for me. When I came back, they threw a welcome back party for me. On my birthday they threw a surprise party for me. So, you can conclude, I only prize the parties. No, it's not true. The truth is: I understand that these parties are the way they found to give something in return for a job well done. That's what I am proud of. They feel love in my work just because I put love in everything I do for them. They give me love in return, and that's the best payment I can get in my life. Their love doesn't pay my bills, but what can I do if...
...I'm "just" a teacher. An ordinary math teacher like any other math teacher can be found anywhere. I do boring computations. I draw complicated geometric shapes on the board or on a special paper for my visually impaired students. I give my students good and bad lectures, good and bad grades. But I am able to laugh with them. Sometimes I cry with them, and above everything, I learn with them. I share with them not only my math knowledge; I share my life with them. I feel successful when they also share their lives with me. My student broke up with her boyfriend, and she knows that she can cry on my shoulder. My student passed the college exam, and he knows that I'll celebrate with him. I wish I could find a job where my résumé and the recommendation letters written by my professors were secondary matters. I'd like to hear from the school supervisor or from the principal that I got the position because of the happy birthday message I received from my students or because of the homage they paid me on their graduation day. This school would be a place where love counts more than any other thing.
Because I am a teacher, a teacher with no philosophy (I've just realized that) but a teacher with a heart, a big heart full of love to share and with an open mind ready to learn more and more from every single day.
Telma de Castro Silva
Math teacher in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil