EPTI'm confident that most of you are able to identify with what I've just said in one way or another. To put this into a StarCraft context, you're watching a stream of some random Zerg trying to use Stop Lurker, but he isn't particularly skilled, and instead of using the Overlord method he just spams the Stop button. Assuming that you were to comment in his stream chat will you call him a) a skilless fucking newbie, b) teach him the Overlord method? ( Let's also assume that the usual cesspool of humanity that is stream chat is out of the picture here ). Although this example may not be the best, but people like Day9 and even less prominent members of the community like JaKaTaK that aspire to teach have some respect from me because they genuinely ( I hope ) want to see people learn.
Teachers that constantly has to deal with problematic students are also amazing. I realise that some people become teachers because they didn't have a choice, but there surely are people out there who became teachers becomes of a passion to teach, educate, and nurture.
+ Show Spoiler +
What does a Teacher make?
by Taylor Mali
He says the problem with teachers is, "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"
He reminds the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about teacher: Those who can, do;those who can't, teach.
I decided to bite my tongue instead of his and resist the temptation to remind the other dinner guests that it's also true about what they say about lawyers.
Because we're eating, after all, and this is polite company.
"I mean, you're a teacher, Taylor," he says. "Be honest. What do you make?"
And I wish he hadn't done that (asked me to be honest) because, you see, I have a policy about honesty and butt-kicking: if you ask for it, I have to let you have it.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional Medal of Honour and an A- feel like a slap in the face. (How dare you waste my time with anything less than your very best?!)
I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall in absolute silence.
(No, you make not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won't I let you get a drink of water? Because you're not thirsty, you're bored. That's why.)
I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
"I hope I haven't called at a bad time. I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today."
"Billy said, "Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don't you?"
"And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.
I make parents see their children for who they are and what they can be.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticise.
I make them apologise and mean it.
I make them wrtie, write, and write.
And I make them read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely beatiful over and over and over again until they will never misspell either of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math.
And hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you got this (brains)
then you follow this (heart) and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this (the finger).
Let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
I make a difference! What about you?
by Taylor Mali
He says the problem with teachers is, "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"
He reminds the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about teacher: Those who can, do;those who can't, teach.
I decided to bite my tongue instead of his and resist the temptation to remind the other dinner guests that it's also true about what they say about lawyers.
Because we're eating, after all, and this is polite company.
"I mean, you're a teacher, Taylor," he says. "Be honest. What do you make?"
And I wish he hadn't done that (asked me to be honest) because, you see, I have a policy about honesty and butt-kicking: if you ask for it, I have to let you have it.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional Medal of Honour and an A- feel like a slap in the face. (How dare you waste my time with anything less than your very best?!)
I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall in absolute silence.
(No, you make not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won't I let you get a drink of water? Because you're not thirsty, you're bored. That's why.)
I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
"I hope I haven't called at a bad time. I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today."
"Billy said, "Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don't you?"
"And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.
I make parents see their children for who they are and what they can be.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticise.
I make them apologise and mean it.
I make them wrtie, write, and write.
And I make them read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely beatiful over and over and over again until they will never misspell either of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math.
And hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you got this (brains)
then you follow this (heart) and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this (the finger).
Let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
I make a difference! What about you?
His other slam poetry and routines about education are pretty good as well, although some other ones are just plain frickin hilarious instead of necessarily motivational... like this one: 
