The multifaceted nature of courage

Yesterday, I had a rare and unique opportunity to spend the afternoon with a great friend - someone I greatly admire. While I expected to meet with this friend for lunch, catch up, and then go about our days, I was astonished and flattered that my friend chose to take the rest of the work day off in order to spend time together.

For the better half of our afternoon, we discussed the meaning of courage.

In our conversation, we realized that courage has a duplicitous nature. We could both think of people in our lives who have shown indisputable courage, and yet, we found, over and over again, that courage can mean a variety of things to different people, and under different circumstances -- and as often is the case, all seem accurate.

For instance, in both of our families, our parents showed the courage to let go and have faith in the unknown when they chose to immigrate to this country years ago, leaving behind "the known" of their home countries and of their family and friends for promises of a better future.

On the other hand, my parents also showed an incredible amount of tenacious courage when they were very young and they decided to get married and convert to a new religion against the approval of their families and friends. We thought of several situations that fit the latter example as well.

So what does it mean to have courage, exactly?

My experience has taught me that the most powerful and desirable form of courage is the courage to choose. Choosing to let go of what you don't need, and to hang on to what you do need most. The most courageous people in my life weren't necessarily the most adventurous or fearless, they were the people who chose what they would and would not stand for.

It takes courage to endure through challenging times. When facing a crossroads, we show bravery and grit in order to take a stand for the things that really matter to us.

I often forget that it also takes equal determination to let go, or to turn back when we have been wrong. Letting go and stepping out of a situation that would otherwise create more harm than good in the long run takes courage and a great amount of faith.

I have made the sad mistake of assuming that letting go is synonymous with giving up. I'm ashamed to admit that for too long, I believed that only those who are afraid and weak let go or change the path of their journey. I have needed to amend my paradigm.

I strongly believe that it takes a special courage to have the audacity to fight for your happiness, which could mean letting go of something that's wrong for you. This especially takes courage when it pins us against social mores, like our parents who decided to leave behind the known of their homeland, for the unknown of immigrating to the United States.

When facing a crossroads, it takes courage to walk down either path - to continue forward with faith in the unknown or to change and show faith by turning back when you've been wrong.

In a recent Mormon Message video, I was reminded that when making decisions, God expects us to pray, trust, and be believing and then not give up, panic, or "jump ship" when something doesn't seem to be going right. This is the message I was accustomed to hearing. HOWEVER, it taught me something new as well. It taught me that sometimes, when faced with a fork in the road, the way to the "right road" requires that we go down a wrong path for a brief time in order to recognize, when we turn back, that the path we are going on is ABSOLUTELY the right one (Wrong Roads).

For everything we hang on to, we are must let go of something else. I used to believe that human being ought to strive for perfection in all things, and that life was one huge balancing act in which I was supposed to become great in all things: all relationships ought to be forever, and we should always endure to the end.

While that's certainly an ideal I catch myself stubbornly seeking to adhere to over and over again, I have found that it is unrealistic and self-destructive. Human beings can only choose what they will stand for; what they will choose to perfect; what mountains are worth climbing, or what battles are worth fighting.

We cannot be everything, succeed at everything -- and the journey to becoming someone, believing in something, and having courage, requires us to let go of many things that are good for the things that are great, and not worth living without.

We must fight for these things. We must show the courage to endure here.

And with wisdom and faith, we must search our souls to uncover what this means for each of us.


Comment below if you have anything to add.

Our greatest asset

“Our needs are our greatest assets. It turns out I’ve learned to give all the things I need.” 

- Andrew Solomon

The above quote blew me away when I heard it earlier during Solomon's TEDTalk. It inspired me to evaluate the things I most desperately yearn for in my life, and made me wonder how I should go about turning these needs, or weaknesses, into strengths (Ether 12:27) in the way that Solomon was able to do.

Most importantly, Solomon reminded me of a lesson I learned long ago about the good that can come from tribulation (D&C 122:6-7). It reminded me that the things we lack often hold the potential to become great blessings in our lives. After all, if I have suffered some unfortunate event, this pain grants me exclusive insight.

I take comfort in the knowledge that my painful experiences allow me to empathize with those who have suffered similar pain. In experiencing the need for something - whether it be physical, emotional, or spiritual - we can develop a greater ability to show compassion. No one needs to feel like they are fighting a battle on their own.

Please be mindful that I am NOT perfect at living his principle yet. I still find myself wallowing in self pity from time to time on a daily basis. I resist the wisdom of seeing the greater picture, and I narrow my focus to only my life, and my suffering. When I do this, I feel almost completely engulfed by my weaknesses.

So I'm glad Solomon, and those more diligent in following this ideal, continue to remind me that the way out of our metaphorical abyss is to use the things we KNOW (even when all we seem to know is pain or struggle). We can become experts in our struggle, and find passion in overcoming those challenges so that we can then lend a hand to those in need.

Indeed, this ability can become our greatest asset if we choose it.

Comment below if you have anything to add.

The art of losing

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop

In one way or another, we all experience loss throughout life. As Bishop points out in one of my preferred poems above, the art of losing is one that all participate in, though in varying degrees.

We may lose trivial things, like our keys or an hour of the day, without any serious repercussions. With simple losses such as these, we may overlook the habit that forms. It comes with ease. We may even, with time, turn calloused to the loss of the little things.

 We all eventually learn about great loss - we lose track of what path our life should follow, or may lose significant moments in our pasts. Without any conscious decision of our own, we learn about the loss of a loved one.

Though these losses all feel like tragedy in the moment, Bishop reminds us that with time, we forget the pain that comes from loss. Our wounds eventually heal, and we must continue forward.

And nobody likes to feel pain. Why should they? So why no forget? Why not push it out of our minds?

I'm not sure I have an answer here. I do it too, all the time. I push the hurt out of my mind. I occupy my time and energy with other things, even meaningful things. And I forget about loss for a while, until it strikes again.

Perhaps the real disaster lies in forgetting the importance of the things or people we have lost along the way. I wonder whether the real tragedy in loss is that our default is to forget and move on. 

We need to give ourselves time to heal. But I don't believe we should forget. In fact, I think we do ourselves a disservice if we avoid confronting the loss we experience, and we refuse to look over into the abyss. It can teach us incredible things about ourselves.

In spite of the pain.

Finding motivation

Do you ever have one of those days when you find yourself overwhelmingly confused by the actions of someone you care about? When you waste countless hours racking your brain for a reason behind their words or deeds, and trying to understand whether they are doing the right thing, or the wrong thing? When you find yourself perplexed by their motivations?

Does that happen to you often?

I have those days on a regular basis. I am constantly pinpointing (often mistakenly) what motivates the actions of the people around me, especially when those actions seem to go against what I would call my own personal idea of "conventional wisdom."

So what can we do?

Realize that everyone has different priorities, and that it's okay. People's ideas of what's important may be different from yours, but that doesn't make it any less valid than your ideas. I find myself wasting too much time thinking prescriptively.

This is what you should do...This is what you shouldn't do. 

Unfortunately, the adult world I'm familiar with is not so black and white. It's all a matter of what you prioritize, and what you hold dear. That's what determines what motivates you, or anyone to action.

Avoid the mistake I usually make of jumping to conclusions and assigning judgements to people's decisions. More often than not, if you can't understand why someone does something (and it drives you a little nuts), you simply don't value the same things they value, OR you don't value them to the same degree.

I spent a number of hours last night laughing, crying and discussing this idea with a close friend of mine. As we sat in her cozy Cambridge apartment and talked until the early hours of the morning, I realized how much energy I waste away ascribing generalized prescriptions to how one "should" live. Avoid my mistake. Stop it. You're usually going to be wrong anyway.

What can you do instead?

Step back. Spend time learning about yourself, and use the moments that frustrate you to discover new, emerging elements of your personality. Use them to unleash your hidden values: the ones you didn't realize your had until someone challenged them.

Embrace who you are. Learn what motivates and drives you.

Accept that most people are usually not trying to hurt you. When you feel offended by what someone has said or done, consider that they might just hold dear something you didn't think to consider important. They probably haven't realized that about themselves yet either.

And remember that values and priorities may change. For you, and everyone else.

Let it happen.

The Facebook Fast

Since I deactivated my Facebook account a few weeks ago, a number of loved ones have approached me to inquire about my reasons for doing so. Some have quizzically, if not aggressively, prompted me for an explanation, causing me to ponder whether my action could be interpreted as one made by one of an unstable mind, or improper social etiquette (perhaps I offended someone in deleting my account without prior notice?). Others merely seemed curious, and acknowledged that they had not seen me as actively on their feed. In these moments, I often wish I had, in fact, deactived my account out of social rebellion, or defiance. I would, of course, be lying if I were to assert that I simply lost my interest in Facebook, that I saw no value in it, or that I had "outgrown" it. No, my actual reasons feel much less noble, or dramatic.

I decided to actually give my answer some thought, and to write about it here. Why did I deactivate my Facebook account?

The answer I stumbled upon after giving it some thought is actually quite simple. I'm making conscious readjustments. 

For the year or so, I've become a bystander to my own life. I began to sit back and enjoy the ride. I'm not sure whose been driving, but it definitely hasn't been me; and I've realized that if you don't consciously make an effort to lead the direction your life is going in, and to evaluate it, it'll get done one way or the other, like an escalator. You'll keep moving forward, or backwards, and you have no say in what direction you're moving. 

I learned that it's really easy to let your life get away from you. It's easy to fall into the trap of routine. It's easy to stop pushing yourself to greatness, and to stop finding opportunities for greatness in the mundane details of everyday adult life. It's comfortable, and you can get used to it. You'll grow accustomed to how numb you feel, and indifference will begin to set in.

And if you're anything like me, you'll start liking it...until you realize what's happened. Until you realize how few decisions you've actually made and how you've lost one of the things that makes us to uniquely,a nd wonderfully human -- simple AWARENESS. You'll be giddy and complacent until you sit still one day and realize that you haven't evaluated your life in a long time, and that you've fallen into the routine you vowed as an idealist college freshman that you'd never buy into. Trust me, you HAVE to evaluate your life consistently, and make sure you're pausing along the way to make conscious decisions about where you're going. If you're making time for the things you actually care about, and if you still have time to do the things you love, and be with the people you can't live without. 

So why deactivate my Facebook account? I'm reevaluating. Nothing revolutionary or rebellious. It'll probably go back up soon enough. I'm not angry or fed up, or done with Facebook. I'm pausing. I'm detoxing for a bit (fasting from the temptation of automatically going on Facebook during any free second), and hoping I can identify some areas for improvement and some action steps to take next.

In a time of year when people rededicate themselves to doing good, and to living with a purpose, I'm using the Holiday season to make conscious readjustments - and to take a step into my personal road less traveled, hoping - no, knowing - that doing so is what makes all the difference. 

Dreams deferred

A Dream Deferred by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

From the ashes

After spending a long weekend away in the foreign lands of Utah, I returned to school today to the relieved and joyous praises of "HOORAY! Ms. Sevy is back!" I was honestly a little taken aback. I had not expected the swarm of hugs I received as I walked into the door (admittedly a little late).

"Phew! Those 6th grade substitute teachers were really starting to get to us!" A couple of my kids sighed in relief. Uh-oh, I thought. That must mean that the kids gave the substitutes hell, and they probably had some consequences as a result of it... I started silently freaking out and making a list of apologies I should write to all the teachers who bravely stepped up to help run my classes in my absence. Oy, I need to make sure my kids are in shape for 6th grade. Maybe I'm too nice? What if they aren't prepared because of me? But before I let another torturous thought enter my mind, I embraced the kids from the other class I teach in a tight hug, who had snuck into my class to say hello. Gosh, I missed these kids.

I had a fabulous day, and so I decided to write about it...I haven't written publicly in a long time, and I think I'm due for a few more posts. So much has happened since my last melancholy post. More successes. Failures. Hopes. Faith.

So much has changed within me in such a short amount of time.

And I'm a huge believer that a large part of that change has come as the direct result of being a first year teach to my students. This experience has changed me so much already, and though I know I still have a long way to go before I become the kind of teacher I want to be someday, I feel that this journey has already polished over and smoothed so many of my rough edges.

In spite of the personal challenges that come along with being a young, inexperienced first year teacher, I sincerely believe that these challenges have worked to make me a much more beautiful human being than I could have ever imagined possible.

There's something about hitting rock-bottom that changes you, and I mean that in as little of a depressive way as possible. I have never been so bad at something I'm trying so hard to be good at...that's how I feel every day.

And yet...I have never received as much grace and kindness from so many unexpected places. Co-workers, mentors, family, friends, sometimes ever complete strangers have come to my rescue more than once. And I have learned so much as a result of it--about the overall goodness of people.

And that gives me hope. No matter what. No matter how messed up something in our lives may seem...Or how close we are to falling over the edge into the abyss of giving up and relentless despair--people are good. They are full of love, and they are eager to give of themselves for the improvement of humanity - in however small a way it may seem.

And that gives me hope for the future -- as a teacher, as a friend, as a wife. It give me hope for the future. It fills my heart with love, and peace.

And that's enough to keep me going on.

For now, that's faith.

"And so, rock bottom became a solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life" (J.K. Rowling).

Just a little girl

I happened upon this great song by Lenka last week and I've been thinking a lot about what it says to me about life, and the experience of enduring through confusion. Regardless of how much detail you, my readers, are privy to in my day to day, you all have some insight regarding the challenges I've been facing as of recent, and this song surprisingly unveiled feelings I have been wrestling with in a whole manner. There are definitely many other lyrics I can relate to at this time, but this one seemed to encompass my dominant feelings of confusion, and I am really excited about sharing it.

It's a really peppy song, which might lead some to overlook the pained, conflicted message about growing up woven into its melodic tapestry...or maybe I'm just projecting my own feelings onto the lyrics. In either case, I believe Lenka is clearly torn, and while I would call it an optimistic song, it is not a "cheerful" song, which seemed to be the dominant adjective used in describing it online. I respectfully disagree. 

Lenka sings about the confusion that entails growing up. She's not really sure what she wants or how to go about getting it. All that seems certain of is that the path before her is unclear. She seems to have lost a sense of what she "should" do, and what she should want. I chose to share the first part of the song here, but anyone who hears it all the way through will notice that she hasn't settled on whether she wants her money or whether she is just going to sit back and "enjoy the show." In my opinion, therein lies her conflict: to continue moving forward in the direction she set out on, or to shift gears? I can also relate to the general exhaustion over the matter I hear in this song. 

You'll find the lyrics to the song below. Note that I added some emphasis to help readers understand the significance of the song from my point of you. Im obviously adding emphasis where I hear it, which gives you a little insight into my mind. 

I don't know if you have ever felt like a song has perfectly captured you in a moment, but I hope you'll check it out anyway since I'm a bit obsessed with it right now. I could talk about it forever, and I'd be thrilled to tell you why if you ever ask me in person, but I'll cut this short here. You can find the lyrics below.

I'm just a little bit caught in the middle
Life is a maze and love is a riddle
I don't know where to go, can't do it alone
(I've tried) and I don't know why

 

Slow it down, make it stop or else my heart is going to pop
'Cause it's too much, yeah it's a lot to be something I'm not

I'm a fool out of love 'cause I just can't get enough

 

I'm just a little bit caught in the middle

Life is a maze and love is a riddle

I don't know where to go, can't do it alone

(I've tried) and I don't know why

 

I'm just a little girl lost in the moment
I'm so scared but I don't show it
I can't figure it out, it's bringing me down
I know I've got to let it go and just enjoy the show

"The Show" by Lenka (emphasis added by me)

Also, I would like to take a minute to sincerely thank all those of you who have reached out in a private responses to my previous posts. You couldn't possibly imagine how truly comforting and inspiring it has been to read about your experiences facing similar feelings, and to sit and bounce ideas off of you. I am so grateful and humbled by the outpour of love and support from places I never would have expected it to come from. Honestly, thank you.

An esoteric thought

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing

and rightdoing there is a field.

I’ll meet you there.”

-Rumi

The Weight of the World

I've been chained to an idea for several years.

It shaped the way that I thought. The way I lived. And it shaped the way I interacted with the world around me. My parents, my husband, and my close friends can all attest to the truth of this statement.

I'm going to spoil the ending for you...this idea was unexpectedly shattered to bits tonight, but I think that's ok.

As reflected in my previous post, this same idea brought several aspects of my identity into question, especially recently. It did always had a way of doing that. It was back, of my own doing of course. Unveiling my vulnerability. My weakness.

It made me question the very foundation around which I have built my life...and without giving away an indelicate amount of information, I want need to write about it.

I fell in love with an idea. For years. No matter how hard I tried to move on, it lived inside of me, and I kept it safe because I have been afraid of losing it.

I didn't really ever want to give it up. Effortlessly, it defined me. I surrendered myself to the belief that my life would always be incomplete without it. After so many years, it still mattered more than I am proud to admit.

I guess I thought that as long as I believed it, it would be self sustaining. Little nothing else would matter as much as long as I kept it alive. It would shock you if you only knew. It sure shocked me. I refused to let anything else touch it. As the years passed, I polished it, and kept it safely tucked away from the harm of those who tried to taint it. Pretending, when the time came, that I had completely given it up...willingly, in fact...that I had given up. I smiled gracefully as I paraded on my own personally paved road through hell.

Because I lied. That's right. I lied.

I have never been as addicted to anything else. I never stopped believing in it.

It was taken away from me. I stood at a crossroads sincerely unsure of what to do when I realized it was all a dream. A fantasy. I'm still a little shocked, but at least the apathy that has only increased over the years has gone away. I am feeling again, and it's a definitely different than how I would have had it, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I believed in something that simply was not true. The weight of the world was taken away from me. I was freed. Unwillingly, but nevertheless, free. Freed from regret and confusion. Because I know. There is no doubt anymore. I doubted it all for something that just wasn't there. I had been wrong.

It's that simple. A little anticlimactic, I know...but that's the truth. I think know I would have believed it forever if the idea hadn't been taken away from me. I would have always wandered, and made my way back to it. I would have changed my life to suit it.

I hesitate to write about this because I have never felt capable of adequately doing this post justice, even thou it's been a long time coming. I imagine many more will follow...with perhaps less ambiguity, or great. But I needed to put into words the feelings I had this night...the way I'm feeling now. I need something to accompany the devastation, the relief, the fear, the confidence, the tears, and the smiles. So bittersweet.

Because my life changed in a moment, and while the world around me looms on, my world was changed. In however small a way, I need that to matter.

And so, I write.

__________

“Some periods of our growth are so confusing that we don’t even recognize that growth is happening. We may feel hostile or angry or weepy and hysterical, or we may feel depressed. It would never occur to us, unless we stumbled on a book or a person who explained to us, that we were in fact in the process of change, of actually becoming larger, spiritually, than we were before. Whenever we grow, we tend to feel it, as a young seed must feel the weight and inertia of the earth as it seeks to break out of its shell on its way to becoming a plant. Often the feeling is anything but pleasant. But what is most unpleasant is the not knowing what is happening. Those long periods when something inside ourselves seems to be waiting, holding its breath, unsure about what the next step should be, eventually become the periods we wait for, for it is in those periods that we realize that we are being prepared for the next phase of our life and that, in all probability, a new level of the personality is about to be revealed” (Alice Walker).

 

A Written Prayer

[Written this past weekend, but never posted.]

I've been told it helps to write down your prayers.

 

I wonder whether some believe it makes your thoughts clearer or more coherent...in doing so, perhaps, you give your prayers greater focus, and therefore, a greater purpose. Maybe writing down a prayer makes the whole praying experience more meaningful.

 

Or perhaps they believe that writing down a prayer has some sort of therapeutic effect on the mind...it might help you to make sense of things on your own before you take it up to God...then that way, He can help you with the rest knowing that you did your very best to figure things out alone first. He might, after all, appreciate the fact that you put forth some effort before asking for help. I imagine I would want to know that someone tried to figure things out on their own before asking for help. Maybe He does too. Maybe not.

 

Maybe writing down a prayer is like utilizing a kind of divine learning technique, you know? Kind of like when a teacher gives you 10 seconds to silently write down an answer to their question before talking it out with a partner or sharing with the whole class. They say the mere act of writing something down helps you to learn because you have to put it into your own words...and you have to actually know what on earth you are talking about. It triggers something within you and becomes forever embedded in your memory.

 

At least that's what I have heard.

 

So I thought I would try it out..after all I am a self proclaimed writer...and I think I should give this a chance...because I have exhausted many of my own methods of coping and finding guidance, and this couldn't hurt.

 

I also think a part of me truly believes that putting this out into the internet is kind of like pushing it out into the universe. So maybe God will have an easier time hearing me out from all the way down here...as foolish as that may sound.

 

So here it goes.

 

God,

 

I've lost my way. No matter how often I try to pick up the pieces of a shattered person, I feel unable to put myself together.Somewhere in my past I lost a part of me. An essential part, and no matter how earnestly I try to fill that void, I can't help but wonder why.

 

I'm not sure if this will make any sense, but I used to have all the answers. And they used to matter so much. But not anymore. Not now. I can only think about the person I was and long after her. Like Lot's wife, I do nothing but look back. Was she so wrong?

 

I'm looking back to the life I once had. The life I knew. Full of regret. Full of questions. Full of desire. The grass greener on the other end. I see it now. And while I know I shouldn't, I want it back. I want my life the way it was. Is that so bad? I want to struggle, and fight, and feel. If it means I feel more pain, I can deal with it.

 

They laugh at me when I say it, but it's a crisis. You're too young to have an identity crisis. Too young to know what pain is. Too young to know what life is really about....That's what they say. Too young, too rash, too impulsive. Too selfish.

 

Well, yeah. Maybe I am.

 

Whether I'm young enough or not, I'm living it. And life doesn't seem to mind that I'm too young to be hurt. It doesn't seem to be holding back, so why should I? Why should I set myself aside. I feel like I don't matter to you anymore.

 

What do I want? I don't know anymore. I don't know who I am anymore. I need some light. Some direction.

 

Are you even up there?

 

Can you even hear my prayer?

I need you now. Just give me a way out of this confusion. Just stop me before I walk away.

 

I've lost my trust. My conviction. My faith.

 

But I'm still here.

 

Waiting. Please.

 

Amen.

Not just my choice.

I was walking one of my students home on Friday afternoon when something he said caught me off guard. As a new teacher, I had quickly learned the importance of earning as many points outside the classroom as I can in order to build a strong relationship with my students, so I found myself walking some students home after school since so many of them lived only a few blocks away from school.

We had been walking for a few minutes, and my student still seemed hesitant about the idea of having a teacher walk him home. Perhaps he felt like it was insulting have a teacher walk a 12 year old home in the middle of the day. Or maybe he was worried about whether I'd have something negative to say to his parents about his behavior that week. Neither had crossed my mind.

"Now, really, Miss. You don't need to walk me all the way home. Why do you want to do that anyway?" He repeated for the third time.

I don't mind. I sit inside the school all day and it's nice to get some sunshine.

"Well, that's your own choice."

*Ouch* I admit it. I was taken aback when my student causally mentioned that being in the classroom all that was my own choice. It felt like one of those backhanded remarks that can be interpreted a variety of ways, but always kind of sound like an insult.

You're right. It is my choice, and I love it.

I replied. But as I thought about it, I wish I had found words that were more inspiring, and urgent... because teaching is more than just "what I love" to do, and I hate when people see teaching as one of those professions that people do because they're good at it, or they like it, or they like kids...or worst, because they had nothing better to do.

No.

I don't just "love it." It's not just MY choice at stake here, after all. It's our choices. I teach for us. Not because my students need me, or because they need saving. Not at all. I make the choice to teach every day because I need the future to be a better place.

I need more people who are open minded. I need more people who are tolerant. I need more people who are creative, and people who are problem solvers. We need more leaders who are critical thinkers, and who seek to understand. We need a future governed by people who ask more questions, and who use their knowledge for good.

I make a choice to be a teacher every single day, because I need to. Because our futures count on teachers making this decision every single day. Because I believe that making the choice to be an effective teacher today means that my tomorrow will be government by inspired leaders who can make more important choices that will alter my life, and the lives of many others.

I choose to be a teacher today, so that you could choose to be anything you want to be tomorrow.

TFA Institute Beginnings

So far so good. It has been a pretty chill day, in spite of the several events we've already attended -- opening ceremony, team get to know each others, dinner, games. I checked into my dorm at BU at around 2PM, unpacked, chilled with some of my suite mates, and then suited up and headed over to dinner, where the whole TFA-Mass congregated for the first time as a whole group. There a bit over 100 of us here.  We then broke into groups and played a few ice breaking games (my favorite of which was creating a group signature handshake). Things really slowed down after dinner and I played Apples to Apples with a huge group, which was phenomenal, and then came back down to our suite and chilled with some new friends. The point of the first day was really just to get to know each other.

One of my goals during induction will be to try to meet everyone in the Massachusetts corps. I meta few today already, though I definitely still need to work on learning everyone's names, but I'm doing pretty good. I just want to be at the top of my game so badly because this is really real now. It's going to happen, I am on the road to becoming a teacher. I feel like everything I do now will set the pace of my first teaching year, which I hear is going to be brutal anyway no matter what, but I'm going to try my best to prepare for the things I can control. Our region director reminded us of the importance of being the best version possible of ourselves we can be today, because we are going to need the best attitudes and the best work ethic ever to turn our institute experience this summer the most rewarding. And I love this, because I have always been taught by my family and by my religion to do exactly this- take what I can control into my hands and roll with it.

There's a lot I still don't know about what institute will be like. I know I'll be teaching summer school, and that ill be scrutinized every step of the way. I don't know what kind of teacher I'll be yet. I don't know what lesson planning will be like. But I'm eager to find out, and to be a part of such an inspiring movement. 

Teaching dreams

I had my first "teaching dream" last night. I imagine it was a side effect associated with my decision to dive into Teach For America, and withdraw my application for the permanent Enrollment Coordinator position at the BAC. As much as I have enjoyed working in higher education these past few months, and with what I suspect to be one of the greatest team of people I can ever work with, staying at the college would just delay the inevitable journey of  becoming a teacher that I would have embarked on in spite of my acceptance into TFA.

Anyway, back to my dream.

I found myself on a school trip with a group of uniformly dressed 14 and 15 year olds. An uninvited nostalgia for the bittersweet naivety of invincibility enthralled me as my eyes caught the sight of a young couple dissolving into each others embrace, and whispering hushed promises into each other's ears. I hadn't considered before what it might feel like to witness this stage of my students' lives, a reality so foreign and preserved from the adult world of their parents.

One particular student, a young troublemaker stood out above the rest. He spent the day seeking to instigate disapproval and fuel the burning wildfire of my deepest insecurities. I could see in his eyes the hunger to prove to me, and himself, that I would turn my back on him. At one point, I noticed him showing off a silver switchblade, which reflected coldly under the deceptive warmth of sunlight.

Before I confronted him, I heard him brag about the protection he now had against him. The group was unresponsive at the sight of his blade. The hairs on arms stood up.

Protection against whom? I wondered aloud, and my student stared at me fearlessly, unaffected by the exposure of his secret. I was filled with abrupt awareness of the small gap between us; of my physical vulnerability against his untamed youthful might as he stood up to face me.

To my surprise, he proceeded to confide in me knowledge that all my students seemed to share about a neighborhood thug, a public figure assigned to protect the kids in this community who instead exploited and abused them. In my dream, I could not contain my disdain for this menacing presence in the lives of my kids.

Empowered by the inherent courage characteristic of dreams, I took on this great bully, in spite of the obvious danger it posed to my life. I'll spare you the details of our scuffle, suffice it to say, I won.

As I considered the details of the dream when I awoke, I realized how ridiculously miraculous it would have been for me to physically overpower any mature individual, having never been in a fight in my life. But I indulged in the promise that even my subconscious was committed to doing whatever necessary to protect my students.

After all, if adults are unwilling to raise our voices, and sometimes even battle against injustices plaguing our lives, then what can children do but renounce themselves to an unjust system controlling a passive and defeated multitude?

Oh, and did I mention all of these events presumably occurred on my first day on the job?

Jeez. Lets hope my first day is only half as exciting.

TFA, PHA, BAC and other career decisions

Even though I hadn't been expecting to hear back from Teach For America (TFA), I learned late last Wednesday that I had been admitted into the 2013 TFA Corps teaching English in the secondary level in the Boston area...which was oh-so-exciting, but particularly daunting at the same time.

At the time I received my offer, I had been working at the Boston Architectural College's (BAC) Admissions/Professional & Continuing Education departments for about a month. I was finally getting into the groove of my job role as an administrative assistant, and kicking some serious butt. I had begun to fall in love with my work area, my chance to dress up on a daily basis, my daily commute in and out of Boston, my two monitors, my hour-long lunch breaks, my BAC email address, my work environment, my long hours, and my coworkers (who are all just stellar, by the way- I have never worked in a more relaxed, yet proactive environment). At this point last Wednesday, I was seriously considering making my temporary employment at the BAC permanent because I could not imagine working in a cooler environment.

Sure, I will admit that I wasn't thrilled about being an assistant to begin with, and I honestly often feel overqualified for my position, but I was interacting with strangers and students all the time and I was given a TON of freedom with the projects that I would be working on and how I wanted to execute them. The independence of this job was so gratifying. I had a full time job for the first time in my life and I loved every minute of it.

So...as devoted to the goal of becoming a teacher that I felt, it fell to the back of my mind, which was now occupied with learning and embracing the whole new culture of my new office environment.

Then about a week ago, I learned about Prospect Fellow, a program that at my high school that reminded me of TFA- except instead of teaching right away, those admitted into the program (PHA alumni, ideally) would begin as teaching assistants in the classroom. This idea began to bring me back to my overall goal of becoming a teacher. I loved the idea of teaching at my old high school so much that I began thinking about setting aside TFA altogether in order to have a shot at teaching at the school that paved the way for my passion for educational equality. On the other hand, I felt my hands were tied as the compensation for a teacher's assistant at PHA would be about half of my salary with either TFA or the BAC, if admitted. But I still considered it, after all, I really really loved PHA, and I felt so connected still to the memories of the person I had been while there, in spite of having gone to college so far away, and in such a different environment. I began to research the possibility, but again, it fell to the back of my mind each morning when I arrived to work.

And so, I was shocked, ecstatic, and entirely overwhelmed when I received my acceptance offer from TFA. Imagine my joy when I realized I had not only been admitted, but that I would be teaching English (it was either that or History for me), at the secondary level (because I never really even considered teaching elementary school), and in Boston (where Chris and I just moved our lives to a few months before).

 So now...I am at a crossroads. My idea plan would be to teach either English or History at PHA...haha, it's probably not fair but I want to have my cake and eat it too...what on earth else would I do with cake right? It seemed like such a long shot, but I feel that the chips are falling into place...I received my offer from TFA, and PHA has a substitute position open for the rest of the year for a History teacher, who was promoted to director of the Fellows program just a few days ago. AND, I just found out yesterday that one of my good friend's little sister is in that class, and that the students are going to take part in choosing their sub.

Hmm....

Coincidence? I don't think so.

But can I teach History to 9th and 10th graders? In fact, can I even really teach- in general?! Sure I've had several teaching experiences- like teaching English in India and Guatemala, or teaching Gospel Doctrine in Church on Sunday afternoons during my college years...but it's different. At least it feels different? Whenever I think about becoming a certified teacher in a real classroom, everything just seems to fit. Whenever I imagine my future career, I see myself in the front of a classroom challenging students and opening their minds to possibilities they might have not yet considered.

But I'm scared. I remember being 14. I remember how I rotten I was to my substitute teachers. Would I be able to tear down the walls students build between themselves and substitutes, or would I fail to acquire their trust and respect as miserably as some of my past substitutes failed, proving the students rights that substitutes just don't have what it takes? Would I then be destined to forgo my aspirations of becoming a teacher? Would it ruin me?

I don't know.

I am so good at my job now. I go beyond expectations. I am independently proactive and creative. I fear that it would be a mistake to give it up- what I already know I am good at.

Or would it be a mistake to never try at the risk of failing miserably?

2013 Resolutions

It is nine days past the New Year, but a list like this takes some time and research to complete, but it is finally finished (for now). It is also pretty long, but I’ve got a year to get them done right? Some are small achievements, some are checklist items, some reflect life goals, and others are just for fun. I’m going to save these to my desktop so I can refer back to them frequently throughout the year and “check in”.

2013 Resolutions

·      Finish a jigsaw puzzle

·      Watch foreign films more regularly (to brush up on my language skills)

·      Sign up for a gym membership (self explanatory)

·      Drive more frequently; and be more adventurous about my trips (I’m a closet scaredy-cat when it comes to driving)

·      Read 5 books from Modern Library’s best novels list

·      Sell my crocheted projects at a fair

·      Cook at home more often (at least one meal a day)

·      Read for pleasure more frequently (audiobooks revolutionized my 2012)

·      Go bowling, laser-tagging, and mini golfing at least twice each

·      Go ice-skating once (because I’m terrified of ice skating)

·      Read the Books of Mormon in its entirety once (because I’m Mormon, and I should own it)

·      Avoid always ordering the same “safe meal” when eating out at new restaurants (which for me usually consists of a burger and fries)

·      Create an Etsy page for my crocheting

·      Go out Latin dancing more regularly (I really miss dancing and I haven’t done it in too long)

·      Go to a concert and spare no expenses (preferable Blue Man Group, those guys seem so freaky, but also really cool)

·      Get a job! (Small victories eh?)

·      Got to New York City (finally go up the Statue of Liberty? I always avoid that…or maybe the opening of the new World Trade Center)

·      Fast for 48 hours (I’ve done 24, and I want to be able to work up to 72)

·      Prepare and eat a six-course meal (appetizer, soup, salad, starch, protein, dessert)

·      Eat something I’ve never eaten before (and may be slightly outside my comfort zone)

·      Geocache?

·      Do some unexpected good deed (pay for someone’s groceries, leave a very generous tip, pay the toll for someone driving behind you, give a random person carrying groceries a ride home, whatevs…)

·      Attend the Midnight screening of a movie on opening day

·      Find a drive-in movie theater and/or outdoor movie screening, and watch a movie

·      Write a letter to the future me to read (in ten years)