The Heathen Copy Machine Monster

Sometimes students come talk to me about their futures and they are always shocked when they ask me about teaching. “I love it,” I tell them, and to those that are interested in the profession, I say “do not go into teaching unless you absolutely feel called to it.” They are struck by my lack of encouragement.

Today, I made a student, who has a great talent in mathematics, laugh when he asked me to define the teaching profession. I asked him to picture waking up early this morning, excited that you have a copy card that gives you access to a copy machine because even behind locked doors, as a faculty member, you might turn into a renegade copy monster when you see a copy machine, and copy the crap out of something, and people will be irritated. Your password wasn’t working before, so today is the day you will get to school early, make 27 copies of a quiz you are giving, and go about your day all teachery, copy machine controlled.

But your new copy card doesn’t work. So you run around campus figuring out how in the hell is it so impossible to find access to a copy machine. You even visit the print center, where there is a sign for “out to lunch,” and then go back to the place where you can get a new card to replace the one that doesn’t work.

At one hour before your class, you need 27 damn copies of a quiz, so you give up on finding one within walking distance, run to your car, illegally parked in the faculty parking lot, so you see a ticket (which you know is your responsibility to take care of, but you’re forgetful), and you drive to the closest Fed Ex. At $13.85, you obtain your copies, get back to campus, and end up passing out 19 of the copies you made because 6 people contracted-or were exposed to- Covid the night before, one person needed to go to the hospital, and another person has a headache.

A teacher’s day, one filled with active problem solving that you hope never involves a copy machine you might abuse, you heathen copy machine monster.