When youre a teacher family dinners often get ruined....really ruined.

Because one of your loved ones will want to discuss education, or teachers, or their unions; and invariably at some juncture in the dinner-time chit-chat, a lesser-loved one will offer proof for his or her opinion by reminding those gathered that teachers dont understand working in the real world. People nod in agreement and I am left wondering what it must be like out there in the real world.

My sixth day in the classroom was September 11, 2001. Yes, THAT September 11th. The one that will live on forever in the airport line-ups and in the memories of anybody who witnessed the events of that day. Just after I walked into my second period class the Principal announced that New York had been attacked and thousands were presumed to have perished. The fourteen year olds remained silent - so did I. After a minute or two, I started talking in an attempt to fill the silence and maybe help the students understand, cope with, and process the news, all the while not having the slightest clue how I felt about the whole thing and wanting nothing more than to spend some time alone considering what it all meant. And in that moment, we weighed notions of good and evil, and anger and hatred amidst the dark shadow of tribalism and foreign policy, and as I struggled with my own thoughts I cautioned the students not to allow the actions of a few to colour their judgement of races, religions or nations, and I urged them to think critically about the news reports that would come in the days that followed.

Then there was the time the fourteen year old boy just started crying at the end of class. I found out later that his parents were getting divorced. Or the time I had a talk with the girl who overdosed a couple of weeks earlier, or when I talked to a young man about setting some goals shortly after his return from a stay in the correctional system.

And then there was the time I had to help explain to a class of about 30 teens, that their friend/classmate wasnt absent, he had killed himself the night before. We sat in silence for quite some time; then there were some questions, and some tears. Together we struggled to make it through the moment, and existed in the presence of pain and loss and somehow the students managed to comfort me, and Im pretty sure I helped them too. I spent nearly two weeks trying to figure out what to write about this student when I was asked to commemorate his life in the yearbook, I think I got it right.

And I would be remiss if I didnt mention the death of a colleague a few years ago - she was in her early thirties and had been married for a total of two months. Students and staff really liked her, and one Thursday morning we learned she was gone. Forever. I helped to create a video of student tributes for the memorial service we had at school, and I spoke at that same memorial, in front of students, in front of my co-workers and in front of her family. I tried to provide some degree of context for the random horrors that happen in life, and to provide a place of memory and learning for our school community in the moment. In the end, I think I made a positive difference in the days that followed our dear friends passing.

Ive had talks with gang members about their life choices. And a couple of years ago shortly before graduation, a student who was unsure of her gender and sexual identities, asked me if I thought she would make it, I told her that I believed in her and that I knew she would make it. It was one of many chats we had about life. There was also the time I spoke to a graduating student about her mental health struggles and encouraged her to seek help for her issues, (she eventually did seek help). Sadly, more and more it seems like teachers are regularly speaking to their students about mental health.

Just a few months ago, I listened as one of my students spoke about how he had fished a dying man out of his condos pool in a too late effort to save his life, and I got him to talk about his feelings and what he had seen. Eventually, I was able to get him in touch with some counselling.

Maybe it is true, teachers dont know what its like in the real world. The real world of profit and loss and balance sheets is foreign to us, but the interpersonal inventories we trade in are the essence of the real world for those we serve.

I am not unique. Every teacher has these stories. This is only half a teaching career worth of stories. And I dont know what the next fourteen years will bring. Of course thats assuming I will actually be able to retire after thirty years of being in the classroom.

On those days when the unusual happened, and I had to deal with death, or divorce, or abuse, or drug use, or criminal activities, or terrorism, I never once thought about my compensation package. I thought a lot about how to make a bad moment slightly better, or manageable, or how to make sure the students werent alone with their thoughts when their thoughts were too much of a burden to carry. And I tried to be, and I cried while being, just human....just a grown-up who cares, and who happened to be in the room when life happened, or tragically stopped happening. And in the years since, I have thought about those moments often, they never leave you, and truthfully, on those days, I never once thought that I needed more pay to do this stuff. In fact, I simply accepted the fact that these moments are the logical outcome of the career choice I made and I was honoured to be entrusted with the opportunity to counsel, to mentor, to encourage, and to provide context to the unimaginable. But the pay was never a thought.

Until I got home.

When I return home, and I see my wife, and I see our daughter, and I think about our dreams, and her future and her opportunities, thats when I think about the pay, and the benefits, and the pension and the time off. And while in many ways our work is charitable in nature, my family could never afford to exist in the real world on good deeds, warm feelings, and rewarding moments. And when I look into my little girls eyes, I most certainly think it is reasonable to ask for my real world fair share and occasionally a cost of living increase.

Rob ScottJune 9, 2015