Uncertainty
This past week has felt as though I have been sucked into a tornado. From the moment I returned to campus for the exhilarating escapade otherwise known as sophomore year, there have been a million different things on my mind. It’s as if I have been swept off my feet, one thing after another flying past me, with no chance to make sense of it all, nothing to grab onto.
I decided during my junior year of high school that I wanted to be a teacher. Up until then, I had no living clue what I wanted to do with my life. I felt lost and unsure, half-hoping someone would come along and smack me in the face, yelling, “THIS IS WHAT YOU NEED TO DO FOREVER.” While that didn’t exactly happen, I ended up teaching a Sunday School class at my church. At the time, I was in preparation to receive the sacrament of Confirmation, which, if you don’t know, is basically the Catholic Church’s individualized declaration of faith, since a large amount of Catholics are baptized as infants. Essentially, as part of the class, I had to volunteer in a ministry around the parish. While I already led worship during Mass and did not have to choose another ministry, I thought it might be fun to work with children. Behold: Sunday school.
Surprise, surprise. I absolutely loved it.
Every single moment I spent in the classroom on Sundays had me wishing I could stay there forever. Then at some point it dawned on me: that could actually happen. The moment I began considering the possibility of being a teacher, I never doubted it for a second. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t realized it sooner.
Since that defining moment my junior year, I have been dead set on teaching for the rest of my life. Until now.
A messy combination of events in the first two days of school ultimately led me to question whether my route to teaching through Elementary Education is the best route for me. I had decided early in my freshman year of college that I wanted to minor in English. I figured that I could teach English primarily, possibly write a book at some point, who knows. I took a literature class second term — loved it. At the same time as the lit class, I was in three Elementary Ed classes, none of which I particularly enjoyed. I told myself to wait it out; maybe the next semester would be better.
Fast forward to this week. One session of an Elementary Ed class and I was rethinking my entire life plan. Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a teacher. I didn’t feel prepared; I didn’t feel competent. Maybe I would enjoy English much more.
I spent the next four days thinking and thinking and thinking. Thoughts bouncing around my head nonstop, like a never-ending game of ping pong that no one wins. My plans concerning my future had been concrete, and then in 24 hours, they crumbled to pieces.
I spent hours upon hours spent considering different options and paths. Nearly every moment I wasn’t in class or working on homework, I was thinking about it. Spare time has been spent meeting with advisers and CAP coaches and upperclassmen who have been through it all before. Writing and researching and exploring possible solutions.
And after all that, I am sure of one thing. I want to be a teacher.
Whether it be through Elementary Education or English, that’s the question. I don’t want to spend $40,000 a year to sit through classes I don’t enjoy. But I also don’t want to switch things around too late and be stuck here a fifth year, paying even more. It’s between which age group I think I could work best with, which is difficult to determine when I have limited classroom experience on either end. I don’t feel as though my current position is right for me, but I’m not sure which position is.
Ultimately, it’s not a decision I can make in a week.
So I’ll wait.
The best thing I can do at the moment is trust that there is a plan for me. And that I will reach it eventually. Even if it means a little more money or struggle or waiting. But when I get there?
It will be worth it.
