This will be the first of three pieces dealing with fatalism and my own current existential crisis. These pieces may be a bit darker than most of my writings, but lately, this is where my mind is going.
Fatalism is as old as philosophy itself. Though many philosophers look at fatalism as nothing more than a perversion of the free will debate, the fact is, Homer and the Source himself, Aristotle, utilized fatalist thinking in their work. Essentially, fatalism is grounded in the idea that, “whatever will be, will be.” Free will advocates reject this idea claiming that destiny is a fictional idea used in Valentine’s Day cards and other romantic fictions. For them choice, not fate, dictates our reality. Determinists argue that choice is an illusion. After all, one has no choice as to where or when he is born, and if we recognize that so much of who we are and what we think are based on these random truths, how can free will exist? The fatalist occupies a sort of middle ground - we may have choice, but ultimately the choices we make are meaningless because, whatever will be, will be. After all, none of us are getting out this alive so, how much do our choices, such as they are, really matter?
What Do You Make: A Fatalist (re)considers teaching.
About fifteen years ago Taylor Mali, a Brooklyn based teacher and poet, achieved a certain level of fame after a performance of one of his spoken-word poems went viral. The poem tells the story of a lawyer questioning a teacher about his decision to become a teacher.
“What’s a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher? … You know it’s true what they say about teachers - those who can, do. Those who can’t, teacher.”
The lawyer continues by trying to point out that the worth of a teacher is defined by their income…
“You’re a teacher Taylor, be honest, what do you make?”
What follows is Mali’s response to what teachers “make” - he says makes students read, he makes them think, he makes students work harder than they thought they could, he makes parents see their kids for who they really are, and he ends the poem with the very powerful,
“I make a goddam difference, now what about you!”
When I first saw Mali’s performance I was inspired - it made me proud to be a teacher. When I decided to enter this profession, I knew what I was getting into in terms of earning potential. I knew I could build a solid life, but that I’d be undervalued and underpaid - yes, I know all of that, and I was fine with it because I understood that the students would ultimately value what I did. This sustained me and has sustained me during my now twenty-year career. Recently, my feelings about who does and does not value what I do has been challenged.
This past week one of my philosophy students asked me if I enjoyed being a teacher. She is planning on becoming a teacher and was seeking a bit of validation about her career choice. For the first time in twenty years that question made me pause. She looked at me and said, “Do you? Why is it taking you so long to answer?” I did not know what to say. I did not want to discourage her or put some sort existential roadblock in her way, but I also wanted to be honest. So, I said, “Do you want me to be honest?”
“Yes, please be honest.”
I really enjoy(ed) teaching. Like Mali, I thought teachers made a difference. I was inspired to make a difference and I thought what we did really mattered. Not necessarily in terms of the content, but on some greater level. Now, I’m not so sure. I know that during my career I have had a positive impact on some of my students. I know this because they tell me. They tell me right before they graduate and in some cases years after they’ve left Pilgrim High School, they write to me and let me know that I mattered to them in some way. In these moments, I feel like teachers do matter - like I matter. But more and more, I find these moments to be rare.
I said to this student, “What would you say is the purpose of a life? Not of life, but of a life?" She thought for a moment and then said, “To bring joy into the lives of others while finding your own joy.” What a great answer.
“If that is true,” I said, “I don’t think I am serving much of a purpose. I think that the person serving coffee brings more joy to people. I think that when people go to the coffe shop, they want coffee and are happy when they get it. The worker who serves the coffee is literally providing liquid joy to a person seeking that joy. I spend most of my day serving people who have no interest in and do not want to consume what I am serving. I do not bring joy to people, I bring tasks, stress, and pseudo-authority.”
Another student chimes in,
“But aren’t you mistaking short term happiness with long-term joy? Coffee is temporary and it will run out. The joy you provide has the potential to last lifetimes. The big difference is that the people you serve do not yet know that they need and want what you are serving.”
Impressive response, I thought.
I think I mattered before as a teacher, I think that my value has been reduced. I feel that most of my day is spent playing phone police, signing passes to go to the bathroom, trying to keep up with developing A.I. technologies, and none of that has any value - short term or long term. One of my colleagues stated my current feelings perfectly well when she asked, “Do you ever feel like you are wasting your life in this place?”
Yes, yes I do.
Hi Dr. X... I’m going on 25 years of teaching and am considering similar thoughts. I don’t have any “smart” rebuttals... Teaching is a job where we become “poured out wine” for others. Literally, these students feed off of us, and it is draining--better thought “soul sucking.” As the “family unit” has broken down, parents have checked out, and school admin have lost their will/ability to establish order--the drain is worse. I think all of the philosophies have some relevance.
Fatalism, free will, determinism... they all probably play a role. The fact, however, is that we are doing the hardest job in the world--with the greatest responsibility and need for outcome--raising children and the next generations pretty much by ourselves in a room with 30+ people who have been indoctrinated to hate authority and anything other than “self.” IF you can affect One person’s life in this adverse environment--YOU are a hero. I know it and your fellow teachers know it. But the world ignores you... They got a little glimpse during Covid when the students stayed home and refused to obey their own family. “Who is this creature? And when can he/she go back to school??”Remember? This is when the masses saw what they were creating/ignoring in their own children. “Send them back!” was the chant.
I’m a literature gal and so I tend to wonder which dystopian novel are we waking up to today? “A Clockwork Orange?” “1984?” “Lord of the Flies?”
You my friend on a battle field. This may sound overly dramatic, and I’m judging myself right now for typing the words, but I can’t delete them. We were trained to enlighten, challenge, and inspire; and yet, those ideals mostly take back seat to the petty and purposeful ignorance we face each day.
You’re tired and battle weary--it’s okay. If you’ve got more fight in you, we need you. If you don’t, “well done, good and faithful servant.”
The fight is only going to get worse. I teach in a Christian school, so I can rely on Faith and Truth to have my back--it’s still hard but I’m on the winning side and it helps me daily. I don’t know how you all in the public-vacuum sector are still standing really...
it’s truly heroic--and I’m not being dramatic.
My wrestling coach/history teacher in high school changed my life. I was teetering on destruction, and he came in and called me to a higher standard, refused to let me be vapid. He’s one of my greatest heroes. Maybe most of the class ignored him--but I was listening and I’ve never been the same.
One of my favorite authors, CS Lewis, has a quote: (paraphrase) “in a world where kids face demons and evil, let’s not give up on giving them the examples of knights and heroes.” Super true.
(Kristi-the kitty fan)