be a big deal; time will change that. Roll forward another 15 years. Our teacher is now 40. His friends are now law partners, business people, doctors, writers, scientists, and professors. Where is he in his career? He could be at the head of a 3rd grade classroom, teaching the children of some of his first students from student-teacher days. He's probably picked up a doctorate along the way, as 20 years of steady night courses have yielded their benefits. And he might well be the happiest of all his friends. As they face their own moments of reflection—What kind of contribution am I making? What personal satisfaction am I really getting from my work? What kind of community do I have at work, day to day?—the teacher's answers could be very satisfying. I'm changing lives every day, shaping the minds and souls of my students, he might say. I see the results of my work every day when I look at my students, bump into kids I taught years ago, learn to do my job better every year. And I work in a hive of activity, energized by the youth of the students and the profound purpose of the institutional home we share. Or maybe he decided to give up teaching. He might have decided at the age of 30 or so that he wanted his children to have the economic advantages he could garner for them through business or law, professions that draw on similar skills and aptitudes. In the business world, he could probably triple his salary, though he'd have to trade off the nobility of the educator (and summers off). Or he might have decided that he really wanted the greater freedoms of the professor. But the most likely ending to this story—not a sad ending by any means—is the compromise position of the educational administrator. With his above-average skills and real dedication to the mission of schools, he is now probably a principal, a district curriculum director, or an associate superintendent. What do you do for a living? I'm a lawyer....
