(8 of 8)
But one boy is intrigued. "Are we positive that 1,000 years from now, people won't look back and say that we got it all wrong?" he asks. Rodriguez is delighted. "That's a beautiful question," he says. "I love it when my students ask that." Then he leads the class into a discussion of how scientific theories can and must evolve.
The moment the light bulb goes on -- that, say teachers, is what they live for. That is why they are teachers and not plumbers or investment bankers. The look in a young person's eye: I got it! I understand! In the average school year there may be only a handful of such moments, but to a teacher they are unforgettable.
The ultimate satisfaction comes from the occasional student who, given the right nurturing, suddenly blossoms. Barry Smolin twinkles at the very thought of his "victory student." The Fairfax junior had a mother who was a junkie, a sister who was a prostitute and a father who had long ago abandoned the family. "I gave her a writing assignment, and she was brilliant," says Smolin. "She still had trouble, but she got into college and now she wants to be a writer." What keeps many teachers going is the conviction that somewhere out there, there are more victory students waiting to be discovered.
And there are the small rewards . . .
Carol Bowen, 46, ducks into the teachers' lounge at Harrison Elementary School in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, at 8:40 a.m. for a quick gulp of coffee. Then she heads back to Room 208 to wait for her third-grade students, who have formed two lines outside the red brick building. This particular morning the girls' line enters first. As they file past, one child, Heidi, stops and shyly hands Bowen a slender envelope. Inside is a bookmark. Its inscription: "To my teacher: thank you for taking the time to share what you have learned."
Despite their frustrations, many teachers are still content with their choice of career. "I love my job," says Rochester's Pugliese. "In the classroom I can have an impact." A Carnegie Foundation survey of 22,000 teachers found that 77% are satisfied with their jobs. "You can make $2 million a year working at some corporation," says Hillview teacher Sue Krumbein. "But who really cares? When you teach, a lot of people care."
Of course, not everyone can have the impact of math teacher Jaime Escalante, the inspiring subject of the movie Stand and Deliver. But in small towns and sprawling cities there surely are people like him, each a miracle worker in his or her own way. Teachers say the best of them are born, not made. Perhaps they are right. Several years ago, Patrice Bertha took a sabbatical to see whether she really wanted to spend the rest of her life in the classroom. She wound up tutoring at home instead. "I really missed it," she says. "That's when I told myself, 'You're a teacher forever.' "