A Teacher's Journey

I don't talk a lot on my writer's page about the "teacher hat" I wear. In fact, I often try to keep those two things distinctively separate in my life. I have written a few blogs about experiences I've had along this branch of my life, but for the most part, when I come to this venue, a different side of my personality comes to the surface. As I work towards being licensed in the state of North Carolina for Elementary Education, however, I have discovered just how much my teacher, student, writer, and mother personalities are connected. Perhaps the best way to describe them is that they are branches off a deep, thick, strong root.

While my youngest daughter privately tutored me in Math for preparations of my upcoming exams, frustration finally got the better of me and all of my hats merged into one big ol' diatribe about the myriad of reasons I wanted to give up. I could rationalize my arguments to my daughter (the mama voice), justify my position (the student voice), and just plain throw a tantrum when I was done with all of that (the rebellious child voice), but the bottom line is, when I want something, no matter how difficult the road to getting there might be, I don't QUIT. Ever. It doesn't matter how angry the process makes me, or how frustrated I become along the way, I keep going till I either find a way or make a way to reach the goal I wish to attain.

As a mother, my goal was to raise two little girls in a way where they always knew they were loved, cherished, and that someone believed in them, so that they could, in turn, grow up to be whatever they could dream. I sheltered them from dark things as best I could, and devoted my focus to their welfare and security. I wasn't sure that I was always saying or doing the "right thing" (or sometimes what that even meant), but I knew with their lives in my hands, failure wasn't an option. As a student, I knew that in high school I gave up on my own education, only to find new vigor and love of learning when I found my voice in college. I was afraid to be a writer. I was afraid of failure AND success. But after Mama Schaefer gave me a little push, I tucked that fear down deep where it would be quiet and took the leap. Finally, I thought my teaching days were over. Setbacks and some really horrendous experiences left a bitter, angry taste in my mouth and made me question whether or not I even had a right to be in a classroom. Then, when it seemed like that road was completely closed, a wonderful educator hacked out a new one for me from the overgrown brush and thorns. She took my hand and said, "Hey, let's go THIS way. What do ya think?" And off I went, happy to follow along with her and over the Moon for students I adore!

I have a bush beneath my deck that in wintertime looks as if it's completely dead and should be dug out of the soil. This time of year, however, the leaves are thick and violent green and at the tip of every branch is a big, fat purple flower that just about takes your breath away with its beauty. That bush...STRONG roots. Parts and pieces connected to it are in full, wild bloom.