I use to say I could not and would not be a professor. I have little patience and am thoroughly annoyed when people get an attitude with me when I'm trying to help them. I believe there are in fact stupid questions and I have a hard time not appearing annoyed when I'm annoyed. I hate talking to people all day and I don't like talking when no one is listening. To me these are all bad qualities for a professor. If you asked me what my dream job would be, I'd say give me a desk, a computer, a window, and no human interaction.
For some reason, however, I always ended up doing things that prepare me for teaching. I tutored in high school. I tutored in college. I'm still tutoring in grad school. I was even a teaching assistant last year. I complain often; I'm annoyed often. And yet, I cannot say no to someone who wants/needs help. I'm enraged when I see students get the short end of the stick. I hate that everyone isn't afforded the same education and am always trying to find away to bridge the gap between the students who had state of the art teachers and equipment versus the students who had teacher who were just babysitting.
When I'm completely honest about why I decided to continue to get a PhD, instead of giving up after the fiasco that was my first graduate school: the truth is I want more people like me with PhDs visible to the future generation. A part of me was very angry that none of my professors seemed to speak English (I'm sorry if English is your second language and that statement offends you, but if I can't understand a professor's English in a school located in the United States, it's a problem). I hated that out of all the students in my graduate department, I was the only Black female. The only thing worse than being a minority is being a triple minority: American, Black, and female. I wouldn't quit, because the only way to break that isolation is to have more people like me attend and more people like me graduate.
Now, that I'm in a less hostile environment, I often question why I'm still here. Every once in a while, I still get that feeling of isolation (I'm one of 2 girls in my lab here and the only Black person, though there are many females and many Blacks in the department). After struggling through this feeling for 25 years, there comes a point where you're just tired, and you wonder, why do I continue down this road? Then I go to study hall, where I tutor, and find people waiting for me to help them. People calling to make sure I'm there to help. And I see the people leave excited and smiling because I've helped them understand something. The next thing I know, I feel like crying. I've never been a crier for sad things; I've definitely never cried for happy things. I'm not sure why, but it means a lot to see someone else avoid everything that drove me crazy.
So here I am, still playing tug-of-war with this idea of becoming a professor... *sigh*
