If a person teaches long enough, he or she will develop an identity crisis. At some point he will think he is God. Not the God of the universe, but definitely the god of his own micro-universe. And one can see why. As teachers we have created our own little world, ordered it, set the rules, allow free will to its occupants, but also mete out consequences and rewards. Then, in the ten (or sometimes even five) minutes before class starts, we have often solved three personal crises, listened to four pleas for mercy, intervened in two interpersonal conflicts, and welcomed every inhabitant to a brand new day.
As the day progresses, the students are convinced we are omnipresent, as we always appear at exactly the right (or wrong) time to catch them at something, omniscient because we know what they are doing even when our back is turned, and omnipotent because not only can we hear conversations in the back of the room while we are talking to another student, but also because we hold the fate of their future in our hands.
This God complex probably wouldn’t be so bad if some of us, like me, didn’t continue thinking we were God outside of the classroom. I like things ordered and tidy with no loose ends, so I will usually take one of two courses of action. First, in my haste to straighten things out as quickly as possible, I will not wait to see what route God might want me to take; or second, I will try to resolve issues that perhaps are not mine to resolve, but since they are making my world a bit chaotic or uncomfortable or untidy, then I want to sort everything and everyone out.
This attribute has on a very few occasions worked, but more often than not, I have acted too rashly and then had to reverse course, or l have stepped on toes, hurt feelings, or needlessly interfered. Almost always, the results are not what anyone would have hoped for, and most certainly were not what God had planned.
“Be still and know that I am God.” As one can see, the first is a must for the second to take place. I must be “still” in order to let God be God.
As the day progresses, the students are convinced we are omnipresent, as we always appear at exactly the right (or wrong) time to catch them at something, omniscient because we know what they are doing even when our back is turned, and omnipotent because not only can we hear conversations in the back of the room while we are talking to another student, but also because we hold the fate of their future in our hands.
This God complex probably wouldn’t be so bad if some of us, like me, didn’t continue thinking we were God outside of the classroom. I like things ordered and tidy with no loose ends, so I will usually take one of two courses of action. First, in my haste to straighten things out as quickly as possible, I will not wait to see what route God might want me to take; or second, I will try to resolve issues that perhaps are not mine to resolve, but since they are making my world a bit chaotic or uncomfortable or untidy, then I want to sort everything and everyone out.
This attribute has on a very few occasions worked, but more often than not, I have acted too rashly and then had to reverse course, or l have stepped on toes, hurt feelings, or needlessly interfered. Almost always, the results are not what anyone would have hoped for, and most certainly were not what God had planned.
“Be still and know that I am God.” As one can see, the first is a must for the second to take place. I must be “still” in order to let God be God.
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