Talk to nicely.

I became a teacher because I wanted to save the world, one kid at a time.

I know it sounds naive, but I believed it was possible because it happened to me.

I grew up in a rough inner city neighborhood with parents who were barely around.

It was my teacher, Mr. Maysfield, who listened when I needed to talk,

helped me get a scholarship to college, and even intervened on my behalf when I got in trouble

with the law. He had been there for me, and now I wanted to be there for someone else. As soon as I got

my teaching degree, I applied for a program that matched educators with schools

in need. During the tense months I spent waiting for a placement, I imagined that I would be

working in a school like the one I had graduated from. I figured my students would be like me,

city kids with city problems, and a lifestyle that I was familiar with.

When my letter finally arrived, I discovered I had been assigned to a tiny Appalachian town

called Deer Chase.

Its population was less than 300, and according to the organization, most of my students

would be bused in from nearby regions that were even more remote. I had never lived anywhere without public transportation, without 24-hour shops, without background noise and light pollution.

I had received a letter along with my posting, one in which my future principal explained just how isolated Deer Chase really was. It was an hour to the nearest gas station, and even further to the nearest grocery store.

In winter, snow piled up on the narrow roads, making them impassable for weeks at a time.

The creeks usually flooded in spring, and if I went into the woods during summer, I would

need to be on the lookout for sinkholes and rattlesnakes.

The only piece of good news was that the school had a house for visiting teachers, so

at least I would be living rent-free.

The more I read about Deer Chase, the less I liked it, But I had made a commitment. I wasn't going to back

...