Sometimes Love Comes Around...
..And it really does knock you down.
I’m home for less than 3 weeks - 19 days to be exact, and of those 19 days a huge chunk of my time is being spent preparing and delivering trainings to a group of 16-24 year old summer camp counselors. Most people think I’m crazy for doing this since my time is so limited and to be honest, I too have been tempted to smack myself a little for giving in to camp time when I’m still struggling to finish my assignments from school. (I’m not the best decision maker.) But whatever - when you walk away on a high from getting to work with your favorite age group doing what you love to do, who gives a crap??
As the weekend came to a close I had an opportunity to connect with some of the counselors offline over dinner. As I looked around the table I noticed some of MY participants from when I was a counselor eight years ago (can you believe it??), as well as some previous RE students of mine, and some old colleagues who, like me, continue to give their time to the cause.
It almost makes me laugh when I remember that it never occurred to me to be a teacher. How could I have actually thought my life would turn out any other way when, so clearly, the monumental events in the trajectory of my life could only have led to where I am right now? Another teacher in the group, SA, and I sat talking over Mango Habenero wings, sharing with each other our experiences these past years and what led us into our current professions. She told me that her mom could tell SA was destined to be a teacher after her first year doing this camp.
My turning point was also a camp-inspired moment. It was 2006, I had just graduated and was sitting pretty with no job and no idea how to come to terms with the fact that I finally pretty much figured out what it was I wanted to do but was too scared to admit it. I was on my way to Atlanta to facilitate my first counselor training and as I sat in my seat on the plane I remember saying out loud “If I nail this training, I’m going to do it - I’m going be a teacher.”
(What does it mean to nail it? Could I have been any more vague?)
48 hours later on the plane ride back to Chicago: I have never been so confident and excited and thrilled about anything in my life.
Three years later, I’m feeling the exact same way. Both of us are sitting here gushing about our love for teaching - I feel like I’m renewing my vows. SA gets butterflies, ZS’s heart skips a beat. Can I tell you that every time someone refers to me as a teacher I feel giddy? It’s a bit ridiculous actually. ”You’re a teacher, Zahra, maybe you can provide some insight on this?” Another teacher named Zahra? Who? Oh wait…. It still takes me a minute. Or, every time I have to explain to someone what I do for a living I have to stop for a second and just take in that it’s really real.
I know how crazy it sounds from the outside - especially if you aren’t a teacher yourself or if you don’t relate to the feeling. Support for teachers and other… unconventional? non-lucrative? not-so-prestigious? (I don’t know haters, can you fill the blank?) professions are lacking - several of my friends and family members aren’t happy with the career change and don’t understand what there is to get so thrilled about, but even they can’t turn a blind eye to excitement clearly forcing itself through every pore on my face (no wonder they’ve gotten so much more visible lately..).
(Dated: July 16th, 2009)
So, to all the teachers starting their classes this week: this post is dedicated to you. Rock on, change the world, and save me a seat - I’ll be there next year and I can’t waittttttt!
