A Second Act?

In-between my first post in August and now, a lot has happened. I guess you could say some of these events were fate, destiny, kismet. Maybe, maybe not, but the point is that these events have changed my outlook.

The first event is reuniting with a professional organization I've distanced myself from quite a bit over the past three years. I suppose I felt like I didn't deserve to be around these inspiring educators because I had strayed so far from their mission. I wasn't implementing the curriculum or walking the walk, so to speak. My anger had become this wall that protected me but inadvertently kept the good out too. I didn't want to be cheered up, I didn't want to be told everything was going to be okay--I just wanted to be left alone. Spending a weekend with many of these individuals, however, I felt my shell start to crack, and the love, the acceptance, and the call to action found a way in. In the same way ivy grips onto concrete and breaks through, something forced its way into me.

The second event is more like a fact, and this fact has shifted everything. Our teaching staff has changed considerably. Some teachers left the state, some left the school, others transferred to a different school in our charter, and that leaves the face of our campus entirely different. Many of the new teachers are just that--new teachers. Having so many first-year teachers brings a source of energy that is refreshing and contagious. I suppose I've forgotten what it's like to be fresh out of college and so sure that I can change the world. While I now see that as naive, I also see it as necessary. If everyone is jaded, nothing will ever change.

These teachers are amazing, sweet, and inspired. It feels so good to tell them they did a good job when they handled a difficult situation well, or responded to a student in a positive way, or that it's going to be okay and they just have to trust themselves.

Like Holden from The Catcher in the Rye, I find myself wanting to keep these new teachers innocent. I don't want them to see and feel some of the things I've seen and felt. I wished, as a first-year teacher, that I could have had a mentor or someone to look to for advice. I certainly don't see myself as the sage teacher on campus, but I've certainly experienced a lot for someone entering her seventh year in the classroom.

Three have already cried in front of me. There's sort of a miracle in that. I guess the miracle is how raw they are. For so long the feelings I've associated with teaching are anger or numbness. To see their emotion, to feel their energy is empowering and has pulled me out of the slumber I've been in for the past three years.

Almost two years ago, I blogged about the teacher I will never be again. I still believe that's true--I can never go back to that person--but now I can see my profession through someone else's eyes, and that's refreshing. What strikes me so is that I've been complaining about feeling so unsupported and alone, and now I find so much meaning in giving others support. In a strange way, I feel like the support I'm giving comes back to me in a sense--a feeling that we're thinking and feeling the same thing, that we're all in this together. We may cry for different reasons, but we cry because it hurts--and it does to be so vulnerable--but at least we're vulnerable together.

I feel reborn, like I'm entering my second act.