The Scariest Time of Year

Normally I'm a huge fan of this time of year. I love the fall weather, the fall festivities and Halloween! This year though seems a little different. This week is the week we finally get our junior bloc placements. And I'm not sure about about the rest of you, but I'm a little scared!

Of course my fear isn't the same fear that comes from scary movies, haunted hayrides and plain ol' trickery. My fear is the fear of failure. Although I'm slowly overcoming this fear and accepting it as a part of life, I can't help but think of how much is on the line and how many people I can disappoint.

This past week in our junior block methods class we watched the end of the documentary we've been working on all semester. The film is on first year teachers and I couldn't help but tear up in class as we watched these teachers pack up their classrooms and say goodbye to their students until the fall again. They had finally survived their first year of teaching. After the film we reflected personally and as a class on the emotions we were experiencing. While I couldn't even bear to say what I was thinking because I knew I'd start crying, another peer said it perfectly. Jen related this documentary to how it made her feel and her own attempts at raising her children. She expressed her fears in giving someone else (i.e. a teacher) the responsibility to shape her daughter in the same ways that she had done for the first part of her life. Hearing Jen, a mother, made me realize exactly how much responsibility I do have. I've known this for awhile, but it suddenly became extremely real and terrifying when I heard a friend expressing her worries. I'm almost 22 years old and while I just barely take care of myself, I don't know if I'm responsible enough to care for another person. So how in the world am I supposed to be responsible for caring for an entire classroom of 25+ students?

It took another peer's input to say just what I needed to hear. She said she knows she'll have to bring her all every single day when we get into our classrooms. And while it'll be insanely hard some days to bring everything that we have, we mustn't give up. This isn't about us, this is about our students. 

I know I can care for people because it's who I am. It's the way I was raised. It's the way I'm propelled every day to achieve bigger and better things for me and the world I live in. I guess it's this feeling that I've always had about being a teacher and now it finally has a name. It might be called love.

Now love isn't always rainbows and lollipops. We're told this every day in our classes. Love can be extremely scary. Love will be hard when we want to see all of our students succeed and while we may exhaust ourselves mentally and physically, there may still be a student who just can't learn in a way we can teach them. That doesn't mean we've failed; that doesn't mean they've failed. It means that they need more love, from someone who is better at providing it for them. Love will be difficult when we see our students come from the toughest places and try their hardest not to let the world's drama follow them into the school. Love will be trying when a student believes they cannot excel.

But love isn't always going to be difficult. Love will grow when we inspire a student to go after their dreams. Love will blossom when a student of ours one day becomes a teacher to change the world they live in.

(Now I know this isn't Valentine's day, so let me get back to my Halloween metaphors.) I guess what I'm saying is that some days it'll be the trick and others will be the treat. But it can't be about how scary things are; it must be about how great things will be. We can't always hide behind masks and never take chances. We've spent three and a half years learning "all that we need to know" about becoming a teacher; but in the midst of it all, don't forget what is at the core of it all... a caring heart. 

The Journey or The Destination?

As of lately, it seems like I'm encountering a lot of people who are finally finding the path of life they believe they should be traveling. This is true for me too.
It's weird that it's taken so long to feel this way, but it's not too surprising. I expect there will be many more twists and turns ahead.

When we were in high school, we began the journey of choosing what direction we wanted to head. For some of us, I'm sure it seemed like there was no other option than college. For others, there might have been literally a world of opportunities. For me specifically, I choose to come to Millersville for nothing but selfish reasons. Looking back, I'm ridiculously thankful it actually played out to my advantage instead of the drastic path it could have went. I wanted to be a teacher, again for selfish reasons. I've been lucky enough to have encountered some awesome teachers throughout my life and one day I thought, "Hmm... I could do that." It was indeed self-centered at first, but when others began telling me I should become a teacher, I began to wonder if maybe I could be cut out for the job.
Actually, ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed I would become a math professor at PSU. That dream died in the eighth grade when my math teacher said, "You're terrible at math! You'll never be able to be a professor!" We won't get into all of the extrinsic motivating factors that forever ruined my hopes and dreams of becoming a math professor, but her words will forever stick with me. I quickly knew one thing was certain: I never wanted to be the teacher that she was.
Fast forward a few years and I was in high school realizing I need to apply to colleges and choose a major. I knew I didn't have to have a major to start necessarily, but I wanted to have a goal to aim for. I applied to Millersville's history education program because I loved history. Although accepted, a week before we arrived here in August of 2008, I told them I wanted to change my major to English ed. I like English a smidgen more than history. That decision changed my entire life path. 
First semester here, I had four of my five classes with the same group of girls. We quickly became the best of friends. Since then, for the most part, we've all been taking this walk through our education together. But as we got older, took different classes, and moved around, we began to realize although we were all aiming towards becoming English teachers, we were all on very different journeys.
Even now, in the last final semesters, I'm finding that some of my great friends and peers realize they aren't cut out to be teachers or it's reconfirmed that they're on the right track. I experienced the same feelings last semester. (Something I had kept from many of my friends because I feared what they'd say.) I kept it well-hidden, did my work and finished another checklist of classes I needed to graduate. When this fall semester started, everything began to change. Something literally felt different in me. I had passion again. For teaching, for English, for life. I began talking to people about the emotions I felt last semester and realized many of them were worried about that this semester. It's scary and overwhelming, but like everything else in life, we aren't alone. Someone has, or is, experiencing the same feelings and emotions. 
For me, it was the past week when I finally had my epiphany. I'm sure many of you are even thinking now that I've been talking about this for awhile, but it was literally yesterday that I sat here and realized that I'm exactly where I should to be. I have a conflict of interests with my own past and I'm constantly wondering if all my decisions today are based off of the ones of my past. (If you ever want a great conversation to share over coffee, I'll tell you my entire theory about this.) But yesterday, I heard a song that got me thinking about the past again. And for some reason, I didn't have the same panic-stricken feeling that I get when I remember the way things used to be. Instead, I felt an odd serenity in life. A moment later, a quote was placed in front of me that read, "Your past is just a story. And once you realize this, it has no power over you." I literally felt freed in a celebratory moment of ah-ha realization.

I could make you a plot chart of my life and all it would do is tell you a story from start to finish. So I began to consider which is more important; is it the journey or the destination? So often we hear that it's the trip, not the end result. But the road I've been on has been a roller coaster and I although I see the end destination and I'm excited to get there, I want to keep on riding for a little while more.
The conclusion I've come to? ...We wouldn't be nearly as excited to get to the destination if we didn't have the journey. The adventure needs to have purpose and intention. The two of them have to coexist for it to be worthwhile, for life to have meaning.
So grab a friend, take a seat, scream and yell, laugh and cry, and hold on tight for this roller coaster of life.