Finding My Way

by Aina Lee

Every now and then, I start to get restless about my life and feel it's time for a change. This kind of thinking usually results in me making a major life decision without really contemplating the repercussions of my actions. The following is just the latest example of me turning my whole life upside down.

I'll start from the beginning...

I graduated from college with a B.S. in Elementary Education. I took the state certification exam and did everything else I was supposed to do, except find a job and start teaching. Instead of following what I thought was my destined career path I went into the familiar abyss of a regular office job. It was comfortable, fairly stable and at times completely humiliating. In four years I went from regular secretary (excuse me, I mean "administrative assistant") to "coordinator." What did this really mean? More work, not much more pay, working for two executives (one of whom was the poster boy for ADHD, the other sent me down for sandwiches and coffee) in a hellish, fast-paced environment, working weekends and some evenings and exploring the fine line between project manager and pee-on. Tired of feeling inadequate and unsuccessful as age 30 approached, I decided to see if I really could teach. What I hadn't considered was the fact that I hadn't so much as opened a book on education in 5 years! That didn't stop me, and I went to a few job fairs for certified teachers and after a few stressful weeks, I landed a job in an elementary school in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the city.

My employers at my last job were wonderful, but I felt a lot of pressure to not let them (or anyone for that matter) down. I got treated to a steakhouse dinner, and they sent a case of apples to me at the school--I gave them to the kids as snacks. A cartoonist at the company drew me and they had the picture framed with the caption "Good morning class. Here's your first assignment..." I also got a leather briefcase with my initials engraved. So needless to say, I felt a lot of pressure to succeed as a teacher.

My first week on the job entailed the professional development sessions that were supposed to prepare me for the coming year. I came in with the understanding that I would be a science cluster teacher. I was disappointed that I wouldn't have my own class, and later that first day I found out that I wouldn't even have my own classroom. I'd have to go roaming around from room to room lugging around my teaching materials. Professional development wasn't helping me because it was so geared toward Math and Literacy and really had nothing to do with the subject I was supposed to teach.

The next day all my thoughts and frustrations about being a cluster teacher were replaced with deeper feelings of horror and uncertainty as I found out that I was going to be a second grade classroom teacher. My mind raced with fear, excitement, fear, anticipation; fear...Did I mention that already? Apparently the teacher for that class decided at the last minute that she wasn't right for the job and left. So here I was five years out of college, trying to make the most of this situation. The only thing I could take comfort in was the fact that the classroom was over 50% set up so I wasn't completely left in the dark. Unfortunately I still felt completely unprepared for this new endeavor.

As the days passed I took in as much as I could, asked every teacher I saw for advice, help, anything that would ease this feeling of nervousness and helplessness. Their words only fueled my fear. They would tell me things like, "don't smile," "the principal usually picks on one teacher and rides her for the whole year," "lay down the law or your class will be out of control," "don't scream." When I got my class list, my colleagues went through the list putting little notes or comments on each name, like "bad" or "good" or "sweet" or a smiley face. I had this constant anxious feeling which grew stronger and stronger as the first day of actual school approached. The teachers helped as much as they could, but hell, they had their own classrooms to deal with. I couldn't count on anyone but myself, and I wasn't prepared for that.

There's a TV show I watch where there are women who try to start their lives over and achieve their goals. Many times the things they have to do are out of their comfort zone. There are three levels of discomfort, the worst one being the feeling like you're going to die. Teaching was definitely a "die" experience for me. Every single second of my day was filled with stress, even when I was home trying to sleep. I had no clue what I was doing. I cried before school. I cried during my lunch and prep periods. I cried after school. My mom came to the school to help me on three separate occasions. Once to help me set up my classroom and two other times just to help me with the children. Some of the children in my class had been left back twice already. They all knew how to trick me and take advantage of my new teacher status. They would make fart noises while I read them a book. I would literally read the lesson plans directly out of the book in an attempt to get the class prepared to do the work in their books. Dept. of Education officials were in and out of every classroom observing, whispering and taking notes. My family and friends tried to encourage me as much as they could, but their encouragement felt like even more pressure.

There were some decent moments, though. Sometimes the children would ignore the class work they were supposed to do and write me sweet notes. I'd get hugs. I almost liked getting tough with them and taking away their privileges when they were not following the class rules. One girl loved math and was a whiz at numbers. Sometimes when they just weren't paying any attention, I'd have to play Simon Says or anything just to get their focus back.

I taught a grand total of four days before I decided I wasn't coming back. It was one of the hardest personal experiences I've ever gone through, because I thought I was strong enough to handle anything. Turns out I didn't have the mental and emotional strength to be a teacher. I have never been so disappointed in myself. The hardest part is how much I must have let those children down. I know I was only there four days and in ten years they'll forget they ever knew me, but I really hated everything about myself in the weeks and even months following my decision to leave. I kept thinking,"here is my one shot at feeling like I really matter in the world and I didn't even give it a chance. I didn't give me a chance." I'm not fully healed yet. I still get down on myself about it sometimes. I struggle with feeling like a failure.

I'm just now beginning to find out what makes me tick. After a few weeks in the job market, I took a job doing what I know best, office work, so I would have time to find out what I want to be when I grow up. I think writing is a good way for me to express myself. It's cathartic and I think it will make me happy. I also discovered that I love working with makeup. I've always liked makeup but never thought about becoming a makeup artist until I went to a makeup workshop. I loved it, so I'm toying with the idea of doing both freelance writing and makeup artistry. The best and scariest part is not knowing what the future holds for me. Knowing that I always have a choice is what keeps me going. Knowing that if I trust in myself and know that even if my choice doesn't work out the way I had planned, it's okay. I'll just put one foot in front of the other and wing it!