It took me a while to figure out what I really want to do with my life. When it finally came to me, I realized I knew all along.
I have experienced the moment several times, and it is wonderful. The first time I felt it occurred when teaching my very first Skijammers class. All my 8-year-old students were ready to go, packed in layers upon layers of clothing by their anxious parents. They had skied for about a year or two now, and I had to teach them the mechanics many small legs fail to grasp: how to properly stop. Kids don’t care how to properly stop! They just yearn to fly down a hill at top speed, racing their friends, ending with a little motion to form a triangle with their skis and slowly halt.
I strove to stop that. They need a more efficient way to stop – one that can help them out in a sticky situation. We practiced our “hockey stops” all day. My kids attempted the quick maneuver over and over. Falling, getting up again, getting frustrated. With about two hours remaining, one of my boys nailed it. He quickly swept his skis to the side, stopping instantly.
His face lit up like he had won the lottery.
That is why I teach.
The moment when a student just gets something. The moment when his or her face lights up because they realize all their hard work did not go to waste.
At the time, I had no idea I wanted to teach. Now I live for those moments.
Fast forward four years; this past spring a moment hit me like a train.
Middle schoolers are CRAZY. I love them with all my heart for that. They make teaching an adventure every single day, whether good or bad. However, this spring I struggled. Some of my classes had taken a disliking towards me, some consisted of nothing but out-of-control kids looking to push buttons. I got nervous. Every day I grew nervous. Most days sailed by no problem, but many did not. Sometimes I found myself questioning if I can handle this profession.
Then a moment slapped me in the face.
I partnered up my eighth graders to read a chunk of Flowers for Algernon for the day. A boy arrived late due to one-on-one help with the special education teacher. He suffered from some mild ADD and learned a lot slower than others, often spacing out. Due to his tardiness and likely procrastination, I volunteered to be his partner.
We sat in the empty hallway, lined with lockers full of strong cologne preteen boys spray copiously. I read a page of the heartbreaking tale from our heavy textbook, looked up at the boy’s brown, curious eyes, and waited.
Great – he didn’t get any of it! He’s just staring.
My student paused, gave me a look full of awe, and gasped, “so he thinks they’re his friends, but none of them like him?!”.
That moment calmed all of my nerves. It reassured me of what I want to do with my life and brightened up my whole semester with these kids.
Moments like these remind me that I have found my calling.
Everyone struggles to figure out their life in college, and I am forever thankful for these moments that solidify my decision. Teaching is a wild adventure every day, and I cannot wait to do it the rest of my life!
