What God put me here to do

By Bobby Neal Winters

Teaching is one of the strangest, most wonderful professions ever. Our job is to take something that we have and give it to others.  When we are done, not only will we still have what we gave away, but if we’ve done it well, we might just have more of it.

I’ve always liked to learn things.  I’ve always liked to share things with others.  This could mean I am a gossip; it could mean I am a journalist; it could mean I am a teacher. As I journeyed through that sentence, I came to the self-realization that I am--to a certain degree--all three of these things, but mostly, I think, a teacher.

It is in my opinion what God has put me on this world to do.

Since 2006, however, I’ve had additional duties. I’ve been working in university administration.  Originally, it was mainly helping students, but increasingly over the last few years, that has changed.

In 2017, I was given the responsibility of chairing a small department; in 2018 I was given an additional department, a bigger one; in 2020, the first small department was swapped for a larger one.

Every step I took along the way meant less teaching.  Less contact with students.  Ultimately most of the students I got to see were ones who were complaining about something.

There is a line in the parable of the prodigal son.  Jesus says of the prodigal son, “He came to himself.”

Late in the fall semester of 2022, I came to myself. I began to think, “This is not what God put me here to do.”

It was unconscious at first.  I was talking to one of my best teachers when I told her, “If anyone ever offers you the job of department chair, remember that God put you on this Earth to teach.”

I realized I was talking to myself.

There are chairs who teach, teach a lot, and teach well.  Don’t get me wrong.  

When I came to myself, I realized that, other than the moments I stole from the administrative work, I wasn’t really enjoying anything I did.

The fact that I turned 60 in October was also in the picture.  While as a mathematician I realize that the zero at the end is just an artifact of the base-ten system we use, you look at the center of the circle, and it is like staring into the abyss.

Are you using your talents? Are you building on a foundation? How much time do you have left?

So I made a decision to go back to teaching.

I’ve been around long enough to know that if I dropped dead right now they would replace me at work in a week, week-and-a-half tops, and maybe with someone who’d do it all better.  But they’d rather not have to, and I’ve enough consideration for my bosses that I don’t want to leave that abruptly, so I’m staying in administration one more year.

When that decision was made and when that decision was shared, my heart began to soar.  Doors that had been closed began to open; paths were revealed to me.  I didn’t actually have a dove descend from heaven to say anything, but I’ve gotten all the confirmation I need to know that I’ve made the correct decision.

So I have a year left on my sentence.

Actually, I just say that to make people laugh.  I’ve come to realize that my time in administration has been very educational. I know how the system works better now than I did 17 years ago.  As my position has shifted through those years, I’ve learned several new perspectives.  

I now know how to operate as a teacher more effectively.  I can help my students to find their way through the system more effectively, and I will be doing it while building on the foundation of my own discipline which I do love.

And to those who will listen I will share what I’ve learned on my journey to the degree that I am able.

In the meantime, you can find me in my office, marking days off of a calendar, looking forward to going back to what God put me here to do.

Bobby Winters, a native of Harden City, Oklahoma, blogs at redneckmath.blogspot.com and okieinexile.blogspot.com. He invites you to “like” the National Association of Lawn Mowers on Facebook. Search for him by name on YouTube.