Hi, I'm Britney Ellis

I came to be a teacher through a rather circuitous path, and one that I choose not to get into more often than not. Suffice it to say that I usually act and speak as if the first twenty-six years of my life never happened, and I never voluntarily bring them up except for one circumstance. That circumstance is when I tell people that I grew up knowing that I would never be a teacher. Any number of other possibilities were open to me, but never teaching.

Both of my parents are teachers. Both of my grandmothers were at one time teachers. So many members of my family are teachers that during my entire high school career there was not a single year when I had no family members teaching me. I knew all of the ins and outs of the profession, all of the difficulties, all of the deadlines, all of the frustrations and admin pressures and parent complaints. I knew enough to know that I never wanted to be a teacher. And then through circumstances beyond my control I became one.

It was November, and I had just left my job in a bar in Montreal. I decided to come spend time with family in Quebec City, and maybe just a bit of time volunteering in my mother's grade 5 class. On the third day I was there the daycare technician got a call with only twenty minutes left to lunch informing her that one of her employees would not be coming in - doctor's orders - and that she needed to find a replacement for not only that day, but the rest of the school year. In a frantic rush she went class by class to see if there was anybody who would be willing to cover for the day, when what did she find? An adult with no legally-assigned responsibilities. She asked me if I felt comfortable taking care of twenty five-year-olds for an hour. I said "yes." She asked if I could do it in fifteen minutes. I said "why not?"

That was my first day working with children, but the day that properly cemented it for me and told me this is what I was meant to do was when I spotted a tiny dejected Riley - fake name for security reasons - sitting outside of her kindergarten class. I asked her what was wrong, and she said "I don't want to go to class. I don't like class!" I asked her teacher Ms. Cooper about it and was told that I could try, but nobody was able to get this child into the classroom.

So I sat with Riley and asked her why she didn't want to go to class. She told me "I just don't want to. I don't like school." The mission was now clear: convince the tiny child that school is something she could like. I asked her "what do you like?"

"Animals" she tells me under her breath. Looking around I spot a picture of a penguin on another teacher's door. "Penguins?" I ask. "Yeah!" she exclaims. As it would turn out I happened to land on her favourite animal.

"Did you know," I ask, "that there are people whose entire job, the only thing they do, is hang out with penguins? They name them, feed them, count them, teach them things. All day every day, that's their whole job. Did you know that?"

Her eyes went wide and I could tell immediately that she did not, in fact, know that some people make a career of caring for penguins. "I want to do that," she says.

"Okay," I tell her, "you can. But first, you need to learn all there is to know about penguins so that you can do a good job. And for that, you need to go to school. I'm sure Ms. Cooper can help you. She probably knows lots about penguins, and she knows even more about how to learn, that's what she went to school for. So do you think you can do that? Go to class for the penguins?"

A small smile slowly spreads across her face as she nods affirmatively. "Yeah, I can do that!" And then she ran off into the class. That child is now about to enter high school with a particular interest in science and biology.

That was the first moment in my life when I authentically felt like I had made a tangible positive difference for someone, and the exact moment when I knew what I needed to do, to become.