is possible that you will be able to reconnect that person to his or her passion for the profession. This connection, in turn, may just be what this person needs to help him or her find elements of happiness in professional life once again.
The Happiness-Passion Connection
Passion makes the difference between something common and something special.
—Mark Sanborn
You are special. That might sound trite, but it is not. You chose this profession. That alone makes you special in my eyes and the eyes of the hundreds of students who pass through your life. And, according to Mark Sanborn, author of the New York Times bestseller The Fred Factor, your passion is part of what makes you special.10
I recovered from sometimes difficult school seasons mostly because of my deep passion for teaching and because of colleagues, students, and family members who took the time to reconnect me to my deep passion for the work.
That is an interesting phrase, right? Deep passion for the work.
What does it mean to have a passion for teaching? Passion is an impactful word and yet, it is tough to measure or define. As I was writing this chapter, I thought back to when I first knew.
It was revealed in one of those singular moments in time—when with great clarity while sitting in an eleventh-grade mathematics class at Addison Trail High School in Illinois, I just flat out knew I wanted to become a teacher—and maybe someday a fully formed educator. Teaching was what I was meant to do with my work life!
When did you know? Can you remember? Why did you choose education as your profession? Was it the influence of a parent, colleague, teacher, or child? Was it, like me, a singular moment of clarity while learning from my favorite teacher, Al Foster? How did you know teaching children was a choice you would fully embrace? How did you know it was your passion?
To tap into this idea of passion, I decided to ask hundreds of educators who have made the choice to join our ranks.
In the summer of 2016, during Solution Tree’s PLC institutes, I asked more than five hundred educators, just like you and me, to define what passion in the workplace means.
Here are the primary categories of responses I received.
Passion is…
Passion is what I feel.
Passion is what I love, and I love to teach.
Passion is to be fully energized in my work.
Passion is the emotion I bring to work every day.
Passion is what helps me to inspire my students.
Passion is what serves me when I get tired.
Passion is what sustains me in my moments of doubt.
Passion is my burning desire to help difficult children.
Passion is what motivates me to right the wrongs I see in my school.
Passion is just my style.
Merriam-Webster offers up a solid definition of passion: “a strong feeling of enthusiasm or excitement for something or about doing something.”11
Hmm, passion is a strong feeling. Moreover, passion is a feeling of enthusiasm or excitement. And I am supposed to feel this way every day? Not just at the start of the school year? What about February when the year seems to be dragging along, even then?
Seems like a tough request—but not for Lee Maciejewski. Lee who, you ask? I hadn’t really thought much about my passion as a teacher of students and eventually as a teacher of my colleagues until I met teacher and coach Lee Maciejewski.
“What is your secret?” I asked him.
Why did you choose education as your profession?
Write about what a passion for education means to you. Start with Passion is…
“What do you mean?” Lee responded as we rode back from Glenbard East High School.
It was on a quiet school bus on a Saturday night after another loss. We were almost to the end of a very long high school basketball season. I was the sophomore boys’ basketball coach, and Lee was the junior varsity (JV) coach—the main assistant for our varsity team. Our varsity team was not having a very good season, and a small community revolt was mounting against the current varsity head coach. And, by association, against Lee as the JV coach too.
The secret I was referring to, when I asked Lee the question on the bus, was related to his incredible passion for his job as the JV coach. Despite a losing season, despite a team of athletes, which was not all that athletic, despite our head coach, who was very difficult to get along with, and despite the responsibilities of raising his own young family, Lee brought a passion to his work that was infectious. Lee was the type of teacher, coach, and leader who made you want to give him the best you had.
It did not matter to him that he was not in the starring role. He wasn’t the head coach, and his input was not often valued. Lee was a few years older than me, but he seemed to have wisdom far greater than mine. His answer to my question that night on the bus, when I asked him how he brought that passion and love for his work day after day—work for which he was never outwardly recognized, or where he was sometimes told to keep his thoughts to himself or asked to do jobs that were not part of his job description, and especially on the days that were not all that great—left a heartprint on me I never forgot.
Lee quietly said to me, “I just decided that no matter what I do in this life, I will bring the best of me to that job every day. Today I am the JV coach. So today, I will be the best damn JV coach I can be. The boys deserve no less. My family deserves no less. I deserve no less. And no matter what my job is in this school, I will give it everything I have.”
Funny, there I was all of thirty-two years old, and that single phrase I will be the best damn JV coach I can be stopped me in my tracks. Lee actually went on to say a few more words, but I did not hear them. It became even quieter on that bus ride home, and his words made me realize that I was not always the best teacher I could be. His words, along with the phrase carpe diem, became my family’s mantras for years to come.
From that day forward, I made no excuses. I decided that as long as I was in this profession, I would be more like Lee Maciejewski. I would be the best damn teacher and leader, father and husband, and colleague and friend I could be: in the moment, every day. I did not and will not always succeed, but it would not be for lack of effort.
To understand the impact of the story with my colleague, Lee, is to also understand that Lee and I were very different in personality, style, and perspective. Lee was a lifer as a coach. It was his deep passion and love. I really enjoyed coaching, but I also had a deep passion for teaching and leading other adults, not only students; and eventually, that would become my role as a professional educator. Lee saw me as a bit of a “square,” maybe even a bit of an egghead. For example, I would never say the word damn, except in the context of this book. Let’s just say Lee was more flamboyant! Passion manifests itself in lots of ways!
Over the years, in my family, when any one of us would complain about our station in life, chores that needed to get done, or unhappiness with our current workload, you would hear someone echo the phrase, “Be the best damn JV coach you can be!” This was our way of saying to buck up and get the work done—no matter how big or how small