As the daughter of two teachers, it seemed almost inevitable that I would pursue a career in the field of education. During my childhood years my father was first the principal of an elementary school and then superintendent in a small rural school district. He would often take me with him when he went in on Saturdays to catch up on some work. I had the run of the school, with all the toys in the kindergarten room at my disposal, and dozens of chalkboards to write on. My mother, an elementary teacher at an urban school, taught kindergarten for fifteen years. As a parochial school student I often had a day off when she and my father had to work, so I would go with her to school to help with some project or simply mess around with the finger-paints, blocks and manipulatives she used in her classroom. What could be more fun? My sisters, neighbors and I would spend hours at home playing "school," each of us fighting for the coveted role of teacher.

Yes, teaching was definitely in my blood, although I must admit that I rebelled strongly against the idea as a young adult. At seventeen, I couldn't imagine why I would want to follow in my parents' footsteps. When I set off for college, unsure of my career path, my father gave me a golden piece of advice: "Get your teacher's certificate. You can always fall back on teaching if nothing else works out!" I decided to major in English and minor in Spanish, and since I had little experience of the alternative careers these areas of expertise might offer, I chose also to follow my father's advice. I got my teacher's certificate in secondary education.

Following my graduation from college, I made a monumental decision. I decided that romance was far more important than a career, and I moved to Louisville, Kentucky to be near my boyfriend. Not wanting to establish any permanent roots there, I got a job working in the office of a plumbing supply company in the accounting department. I was hired, not on my mathematical or business acuity, but on the basis of the fact that, as a college graduate, I had a proven ability to learn. It was a lesson I have never forgotten. And learn I did. My father had been a business major, and I discovered that I, too, had an affinity for numbers and office management. I rose from lowly file clerk to accounts payable, and when I moved from Kentucky to Phoenix, AZ I had no trouble acquiring a job in the accounting department of a construction company and then a roofing company. When I married, I took over the bookkeeping of my husband's printing business. I was successful, but I was also becoming very bored. While the field of accounting is stable, it is also quite repetitious. The greatest challenge lies in finding that someone else put a wrong number somewhere. When my son was born I began to think about getting back into teaching.

When my son began attending a day care center, the owner offered free tuition plus pay if I would work there a few days a week. Keeping my husband's books was not a full-time job, so I cheerfully accepted the offer. I discovered that, while I loved my son dearly, I was definitely not nearly as fond of working with other young children. The owner of the day care, who had been working with Washington High School in their J. T. P. A. program, found she could not continue the position, and suggested that I apply for the job. It seemed a perfect opportunity, so I did.

I was hired, and so began my odyssey with the Glendale Union High School District. I discovered that I truly loved working with teens, and each day brought a new challenge. I was growing in areas I had never before explored, and enjoying my work more than I ever had in the past. I was home. Although I am glad for the learning experiences in the business world, it's siren call no longer sounds for me. I am a teacher, and proud of it! I enjoy my students and the learning we share. I can just imagine my father, who died when I was twenty-five, smiling down at me now and saying, "See -- I told you so!"