*Excerpted
from the final personal reflection required of my MSE/Licensure program
I learned to read at 4 years old, skipped the 2nd grade, tested into the gifted
program, and was the apple of my schizophrenic mother’s eye. As my home life
worsened, my grades dropped until I was failing almost all of my classes by the
6th grade. I was then dropped from the gifted program, which set my confidence
spinning and took me years to get over (if I have at all). I went from being
“very smart” to being “very stupid.”
I knew I wanted to change my trajectory in high school, and worked very hard to do so. Lacking sufficient home support, though, I was only able to manage a 2.5 GPA, which was much less than I might have had. I failed out of college on the first try, again the victim of a lack of study skills and confidence. Over the years, I have fought back, having to be admitted on probation for every degree I’ve pursued (BA in History, most of an MPA before deciding to become a teacher, and now my MSE). I know what it’s like to feel stupid, and I’m determined that I will not allow a student’s classroom performance to affect my love for them.
I knew I wanted to change my trajectory in high school, and worked very hard to do so. Lacking sufficient home support, though, I was only able to manage a 2.5 GPA, which was much less than I might have had. I failed out of college on the first try, again the victim of a lack of study skills and confidence. Over the years, I have fought back, having to be admitted on probation for every degree I’ve pursued (BA in History, most of an MPA before deciding to become a teacher, and now my MSE). I know what it’s like to feel stupid, and I’m determined that I will not allow a student’s classroom performance to affect my love for them.
Last year, I had a difficult time talking to my students in ways that they could understand. This year I have become much more adept at working where they are. An old version of me laments this “dumbing down” of what I have worked so hard to achieve, but an even deeper version of me is driving me onward, never losing touch with how important it is to show respect to the disrespected, and hope to the hopeless. Unfortunately, I do not believe that those terms are hyperbolic when they describe the experiences of many of my students’ educational journeys.
I’m not much for “callings,” or any other
religious-style description of how our lives play out. I think, however, that I
am beginning to understand what people are feeling when they say those things.
I have never been challenged as I have been these two years; and I’ve never
wanted so much to be good. Working to wear this “hat” has improved the fit of
my other hats: parent; husband; community member. What I have the potential to
be is well-suited to the name “educator.”
I do not believe the journey ever ends. I do not believe that learning ever
ends. I am not interested in taking up a position on the way. I am not
interested in being “finished.” My experience has shown me that, at 38, I laugh
at my 35-year-old self. In turn, that self laughs at my many other selves as I
look backward down the road. The backward gaze only lasts long enough, however,
to be reminded that the way is forward, and there is always much to learn.
