Passion and lack-thereof.

Every Wednesday night I go to my class on Multicultural Diversity.

Every Wednesday night I sit in class from 6:00 til 9:00. Not 8:48 or even 8:59. Six o'clock until nine o'clock.

Oh, but wait, there's a nine minute break. So it's not THAT bad... No, it is that bad. The very amount of minutes makes it even worse. NINE minutes. Not ten. Ten would be too many minutes. No need for double digits when you're class is ONLY three hours long.

In three hours, I could watch Titanic, Gone with the Wind, Avatar, Star Wars, or The Godfather. I could watch six episodes of Community, Friends, The Office, or How I Met Your Mother. I could watch three episodes of Grey's Anatomy, Glee, or Survivor. In three hours, I could play a game of Monopoly or drive to Auburn. I could hit every store at the mall and even stop by the food court. I could have multiple phone dates or type out a month's worth of blogs (that is, after all, what we're all missing out on by my having to be in class).

If you look at it from a financial point of view, this is the class I'm getting my money's worth and more from. If you look at it from my usual seat in class, though, this is the class where my feet fall asleep after approximately 15 minutes and I run out of places to look in avoidance of professor eye contact. For three hours, my professor earns her pay check more than any other teacher I've ever had: she paces back and forth, up and down; she gestures emphatically with her hands and slips in and out of Spanish; she lectures with urgency about cultural diversity and unintentional biases and prejudices; she works herself up to a fever pitch and allows for a dramatic moment of silence to let her message seep into her student audience.

Passion. So. Much. Passion.

Do I want to be a school counselor? Absolutely. This week I've started my first of a series of guidance lessons in local schools, and I feel affirmed in my calling to be a school counselor (that calling has been a little shaky as of late). Yes, I'm excited about being a school counselor. In some classes (NEVER Multicultural Diversity; too dangerous), I daydream about being a school counselor: smiling at my students in the hallway, talking to parents in the car line, chaperoning prom, and- duh- being the cheerleading coach. Do I want to be a school counselor for the next 25 years? Meh.... maybe not. Probably not. Three semesters into my Master's degree, I already know that I want to pursue an English Education degree as soon as I graduate my current program. I'd love to teach English to high schoolers: novels, plays, poetry, oh my! Do I want to teach English for the rest of my life? Again, probably not.

I think-- I hope-- that most people go into education to change the world. We all want to have that miracle story that makes Oscar-worthy cinematic magic (Reese Witherspoon or Sarah Chalke, please, Mr. Spielberg... although, on second thought, Sandra Bullock was divine as a blonde...). I'm not certain, though, that I'll ever pace my classroom with urgency as I discuss Hedda Gabler or gesture emphatically about Hester Prynne's mark of shame.

Sometimes I scoff at mi profesora's passion. I roll my eyes at her "earth-shattering" lectures. But the truth is, I have participated in that class, in those three hours of my week, more than all my other classes in grad school and undergrad combined. I have thought critically, and I have been pushed well beyond my comfort zone.

So I'm at a crossroads. I hate that class. Loathe that class. And yet I am more engaged in those three hours than in my time in any other classroom. While I'm not leaving the class eager to do further research on multicultural diversity, my professor's energy pulls me in. Is passion contagious? Is it necessary for classroom success? Should I be concerned that I'm not passionate about, albeit happy with, school counseling or English education?