It's all becoming very surreal to me: this is my last semester of undergraduate classes. In a month I will be in a high school... with high schoolers... teaching... or at least trying to. Ah.
Where have the years gone? How can I step into a classroom full of High School Juniors and Seniors and teach them about sonnets, The Great Gastby, and research papers when I still feel like one of them? Yes I feel more mature in some ways, but I'm still scared to death to stand up in front of people! My face flushes, I speak rapidly, and I lose my train of thought. The one confidence I have is that I love literature.
All these years of preparation have brought me to this place, and I still feel like I'm about to walk on-stage after dozens of rehearsals, not knowing my lines. I guess my biggest fear is to not do things right, even though I believe students shouldn't only be focused on the "right answers." So why do I?
I've always loved being a student. I love to learn. I love to sit in a desk, waiting for what new knowledge a teacher or professor has to share and offer for the day. It makes me feel that each day is an accomplishment, even if I did nothing else significant. It makes me feel a part of something, and I love using these brilliant creative brains God gave us. I don't ever want to squander this gift. I'm just scared to get out of the desk.
It's hard to tell yourself: you can do this, you're ready, you've worked hard, God has gave you a passion. All I can think is: don't screw up, don't screw up, don't screw up. And as I reflect on this I'm realizing, all I'm thinking about here is me. How I will be perceived, my abilities as a teacher, my weaknesses, my knowledge and lack thereof. The whole reason I chose this path was not for me, but for the individuals sitting in those desks.
My dream is to be the teacher I loved and looked up to in high school. To be the English teacher that laughed at herself, made books come alive, showed every emotion she felt when reading a poem, and would knock on the table enthusiastically when a student made an insight. That teacher is one who is there entirely for the students, and her love for literature and passion for learning passed on to me. In a way, I am her legacy, and I want to honor her and all the people who have impacted me by being the best teacher I can be.
I'm realizing that fear is not always a bad thing, it's just how you choose to react to it and use it. I can let it cripple me, or empower me. I can let it taint my abilities and experience, or fuel them. I can give it to Christ, or attempt to carry it alone.
So this is my last week of classes, and next week comes finals. Then the joy and beauty of Christmas, and before I know it I'll be in the classroom. Here we go :)
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