Effects Multiply

In my high school, two of the top-ranking physics students sat down one day and talked about their plans. One had a new invention and planned to sell it to fund new ventures and maybe a little charity on the side. The other had resolved to become a teacher. "Why would you waste your talent on being a teacher?" the first one asked, a question the second had likely heard more than she'd liked.
"Imagine your life as a math problem," she later recounted to me. "You have a certain amount of skill. With it you can do a certain amount of work, let's say x. You can invent x things that will solve x problems and change x lives. Let's say instead you choose to become a teacher and teach those skills to others. Each year, you might have a hundred students in all your sections. If only a few, say five percent, of your students hear what you're saying, apply themselves, and go on to do physics, then each year, the amount of work you've done is 5x. You can only do x work. I can do five times as much every single year I stick to teaching."
In this one case, the person she was speaking to was struck by her argument, and relented. However, as a culture, we have not.
My parents never went to a four-year college, have struggled with money, and encouraged me to work hard in school. I attended a public boarding school to get an advanced diploma, graduated from an Ivy League debt free, and had a job offer straight out of college. My parents, and everyone else in my family, and most everyone else in my life, indignantly asks me, "Why would you teach? Teachers don't make any money." In a society that sees humans as deriving their dignity from their material contribution to the economy, not in their humanity, we all too often use our employment or our income as a proxy of our worth.
All through college my plans to be a teacher were met with disdain from the future consultants, engineers, technocrats, doctors, and lawyers around me, save a few. I liked to think that I defended my choice. Yet, when I write to my sponsors or mentors, or talk about my long-term goals, there always has to be something more. But then I'll get into psychology research, or but then I'll get into policy, or, most uselessly, then I'll write a book. I want others to believe in my cause, to do the daily grind of changing lives and shaping the future. But do I believe in it myself?
This conundrum, as much as I wish I could move away from it, has followed me here, to my Master's of Science of Ed program and teacher residency program in Washington, D.C. And, here, I just want to talk about being a teacher. It will certainly entail discussing psychology. It will certainly dive into policy and great readings. Maybe it will help me discover my and for down the road. But, for the next five years at least, I am a teacher, first and foremost. My life and this space is dedicated to teaching. Not to TedTalks, not to Betsy DeVos, not to Dweck or Vygotsky or to any other source of fame, money, or external validation. It's about improving as a teacher, the hurdles teachers face, and improving our practice for the sake of our students.
I want to re-center on why I chose this work. Maybe it'll help you re-center, too.