Doug Marttila is what you might call a late bloomer. After graduating high school, Doug spent the next decade discovering that there are quite a few careers he’s simply not cut out for. Among these are: electrician, professional artist, professional musician, gardener, retail sales associate, and real estate agent. Too curious about the world to work in the trades, and too introverted to work in sales, Doug gradually realized that the one constant thing throughout his life was teaching.
Beginning as a karate instructor at the Pleasant Hill YMCA, Doug taught children and adults the traditional Okinawan martial art Shito-Ryu Karate-Do. Thanks to the guidance of his sensei, Roberto Alvelais, this formative experience is where the foundation of Doug’s teaching method and philosophy would be established over the next several years. Here, he learned the fine art of explanation and quickly realized how valuable it is to connect what a learner already knows to what it is that they are trying to grasp. Years later, he would find that this approach had a name in the world of education: constructivism. Most importantly, Doug would intrinsically come to hold dear the notion that no matter what, the students’ needs come first.
Eventually, Doug had to stop teaching karate so that he could take up a career in real estate. As it turned out, he became very knowledgeable about real estate, but he was an abysmal salesman. It was something about not wanting to push his clients into something they couldn’t afford. But if ever there was a blessing in disguise, this was it, because even though he couldn’t sell the stuff, he could talk about it. This landed him a position at Kaplan Schools as a real estate licensing instructor. Then, one fateful evening, as he was animatedly lecturing to a roomful of people about the laws governing the use of land (Possess, Use, Encumber, Sell, Dispose of, and Exclude!), amid a chorus of “Ahh, I get it”, an epiphany struck him; he didn’t just enjoy teaching – he felt a sense of purpose about it. He wasn’t just good at teaching – he was making a difference with it. On the drive home that night, he accepted what the path of his life had been trying to tell him all along:
Teaching isn’t what I want to do – it’s what I was meant to do.
Mr. Marttila 