If it seems like getting to that last point by way of a largely
forgotten 100-year-old sonnet is counterintuitive, bear with me,
because it’s completely appropriate. Before this year began, I had no
idea that I would be preparing to put myself before a class of middle
schoolers and try to teach them math, of all things. As a person who
stutters, the idea of teaching younger students was something that had
never occurred to me, something that I would have said was simply
beyond me. I went through Harvard with vague ideas of graduate school
(while trying not to think about what speaking in front of a college
class would do to me), hoping something would fall into my lap that
would answer all my questions.
To my surprise, something did. Some of us can forge ahead on
instinct or gumption, while some of us—Rupert and I included—need a
kickstart in the right direction to get going. When I really thought
about doing Teach For America (TFA), I began to wonder how I could do
anything else. After a life of excellent education, of incredibly
loving and supportive family members, of the best friends anyone could
ask for, after four years of Harvard—with its ancient historical duty
to its country and its world to send its graduates into service
wherever they are needed—how could I turn down the opportunity to spend
two years working at something obviously worthwhile?
Teach For America is like WWI
...but not in the way you think. In her "Parting Shot" from the Harvard Crimson, a TFA-bound graduating senior says she found inspiration in an English poem from 1914. Her messages of selflessness and seizing the moment are admirable, but hasn't she heard any of the horror stories and controversies surrounding Teach For America in the last few years? Godspeed, optimistic young graduate.