My mom found more of my old school papers, including nearly all of my report cards and tests. It’s so striking to look back 20+ years ago and think about the girl I was then and the woman I could only dream of becoming.
That girl who was still discovering who she was and who she wanted to be, and will likely always be in the throes of that personal evolution.
Except I’m so much more aware of myself now, and I just want to hug that girl so tight, tell her I love her, and that she’ll grow up to be resilient and brave and most of all, loving and loved.
It’s also so interesting to see pockets of my past self in these papers…
Like how being a writer has always been the desire. It’s intrinsic to who I am, not just a career path. I couldn’t separate myself from being a writer if I wanted to.
But special ed teacher is also listed on one of the career objectives from 10th grade…
That one’s cool. When I was in middle school, I wanted to teach sign language to gorillas like Jane Goodall, but my guidance counselor dissuaded me saying it wasn’t realistic.
Fine.
I volunteered at the S. June Smith center throughout middle school and fell in love with a little boy with Down Syndrome named Connor. I must have carried that with me into high school when I took child development courses and participated in teaching pre-school as part of our curriculum. It was the best experience.
Then I changed to wanting to teach English thanks to my incredible teachers. I’d leave my friends halfway through lunch and sit with some of the teachers discussing books and ideas. I must have seemed like such a weirdo, but eh.
What else is new.
I was driven and ambitious and had big dreams, and I needed to communicate those dreams with those who could guide me. Shout out to those teachers… and my college professors who continued to encourage and support me long after I left school. I’ll never stop feeling grateful for this.
Then when I got to college, I lasted all of a half a semester in that major. I was handed a pile of paperwork to fill out, had the horrifying realization that this would be my life, and promptly switched to just plain English. I admire the hell out of teachers, but this wasn’t for me.
A one room schoolhouse on the prairie, for sure. But public school?
Nope.
God bless my teacher friends.
The thing is, I’m teaching now and have been for most of my life… just not in a classroom, not in the traditional sense. And that’s also been my life—seeing my dreams come true, but never how I expected them to.
Sometimes I wonder what my life would look like if just one piece of it had been different. I don’t think I ever really believed I was a smarty pants (smart alec, though, absolutely!), but apparently from seeing my 11th grade assessment test, I was doing pretty well.
I was also pretty sick at the time, unknowingly battling Lyme under the guise of anxiety and panic attacks and fatigue.
What else could have been?
I only applied to a handful of schools. My now-alma matter was the only one I wanted to go to. My dad drove me the nearly four hours for a campus visit. It was raining. You’d think that would put a damper on the whole trip, setting the mood and all, but as soon as we drove through town and I saw the river, I knew I was home.
The soul knows.
It always knows.
I met two of my very best friends and a whole bunch of other amazing people, had incredible experiences and discovered so much about myself and what I’m capable of.
And I can’t help but think that sometimes, regardless of how we might look back to the past with what ifs or regret, everything happens exactly as it’s meant to.
Life can be pretty magical like that if we let it be.
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