What I have learned about teaching | Santan

My journey into teaching did not start with a degree or classroom internship. It began with a lifelong commitment to service as a Cold War veteran, a federal agent, and a public servant.

 I have spent decades protecting democracy on the frontlines: aboard a nuclear fast-attack submarine during the collapse of the Soviet Union, working undercover as a federal agent, serving as an air marshal after 9/11, and standing in courtrooms where the impact of history was felt firsthand.

Those experiences taught me discipline, resilience, and perspective. But nothing prepared me for the deeper weight—and greater reward—of stepping into a middle school classroom.

 In many ways, my life experience has become the curriculum. Students don’t just hear about the Cuban Missile Crisis or the Cold War; they hear from someone who lived through it. History comes alive, and for them, it becomes personal.

And yet, I’ve learned that teaching is not just about knowledge. It’s about complete dedication. Teachers give more than just instruction—they give their lives, day after day. The work stays with us at home in piles of essays to grade, lesson plans to write, and student crises to handle. It also includes sponsoring clubs, managing after-school activities, and mentoring long after the last bell rings.

Too often, those outside education fail to recognize this commitment. Too frequently, even those inside it misunderstand it.

 Layers of bureaucracy have become thick in schools, insulating administrators and limiting the flexibility, creativity, and autonomy teachers need to succeed. 

Political currents – whether from school boards, legislatures, or interest groups – add another layer of distraction, forcing teachers to navigate shifting mandates, ideological battles, and policy “fixes” that rarely address the real problems students face.

Teachers are asked to do more with less: less time, less support, and fewer opportunities for voice. We are judged by test scores rather than relationships, by compliance instead of character. In this process, the most vital element in education – trust between teacher and student – often gets lost.

And yet—we keep moving forward because of those quiet, irreplaceable moments with students: the spark of understanding during a lesson, the shy “thank you” from a struggling teen, the moment a student realizes they are capable of more than they ever imagined.

What I have learned is this: teaching is not just a job – it is a calling. It is civic service at its purest. A polished school’s image or trophy case does not determine a school’s true success, but rather how well it prepares students to think critically, act ethically, and engage with the world around them.

Although my previous careers allowed me to see the world, nothing has given me the personal or professional fulfillment that teaching has. 

I have faced obstacles head-on, and I have paid a heavy price. That price is not just mine to bear. It results in the loss of a teacher who was there when history happened.

I have served my country in submarines, embassies, and courtrooms. I have witnessed the rise and fall of global powers. But nothing compares to the responsibility – or the privilege – of guiding a student toward their own future.

My time in the classroom did not end by choice. It ended because decisions were influenced less by what was best for students and more by an agenda that had little to do with teaching. The result is a silenced perspective and a missing voice in the lives of young people who deserve to learn history from those who lived it.

However, the truth is that no community can afford to lose dedicated teachers to politics or bureaucracy. Parents, policymakers, and neighbors must demand better.

 Support teachers, listen to them, and defend their voices – because when teachers are silenced, it is the students who suffer the most.    

Rod Wielkie is a retired federal agent, military veteran, and former middle school social studies teacher in Chandler.