Finding My Why
My heart was racing, my palms were sweating, and I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath. No, I wasn’t auditioning for a show or speaking to a crowd of thousands, I was attending my first college class.
As a first-generation college student, I didn’t know what to expect at college. I remember seeing the drunken parties, stressful study sessions, and general uncertainty that came with being a college student that were portrayed in films depicting college life, but while those fictional experiences still held a modicum of truth to my own undergraduate experiences, I felt like I was entering into a whole new world that I didn’t know much about.
I knew that I wanted to continue learning by attending college, but it wasn’t until much later that I realized why. Two educators in my life were immensely responsible for instilling my passion for education, one from my high school years and another from my collegiate years. Both left me with words of wisdom that still resonate with me today and guide my practice as an educator.
I attended, what many would consider to be, a nontraditional high school. My school comprised of grades six through twelve and housed about 75 students. About 25% of our entire school year was spent volunteering in our community, and each morning, the entire school came together for a one-hour long lecture on various subjects: music, the Great Books, history, current events, science, and more. No matter what grade a student was in, they began the morning as a community of scholars.
The woman who ran my school was one of the kindest, most hard-working, and passionate people I have ever met in my life. She challenged us to grow beyond where thought we could grow and learn more than we thought our brains could hold, all while instilling the importance of community and giving back.
I’ll never forget the morning when the entire school was sitting in convocation; there was a dull hum in the room. Students, myself included, were not engaging in our morning conversation. We were passively listening, but not offering any more of our efforts to the lesson. Mrs. Elder, the fearless leader of our school, stood up in front of the room and admonished us for our laziness. In her speech, while talking about our responsibility as students to be actively learning and pursuing the truth of knowledge, she said something that continues to guide my practice as an educator, “The tall must stoop, and the short must reach!” While she meant it in the context of our current lesson (we must engage and reach toward the knowledge that might seem beyond our grasp), she also meant it philosophically. In times where we are strong, we should stoop and lift others up, but when we are weak, we must be willing to reach out our own hands and accept the help offered to us. No matter where we are, no matter what we are doing, we must be willing to be humbled. To me, this speaks to the vast importance and responsibility of being an educator. There will be times where we will be imparting knowledge, but we must make it attainable for all by thinking critically about how we present information and tailor it to the learner. Similarly, no matter how far along we get in our fields, we must understand that learning is a community practice; it does not occur in a vacuum. We must be willing to commit to constantly learning from those around us.
A few years later, I had another moment that awakened me to the responsibility of being an educator. While studying for my degree in music, I began to teach private cello and piano lessons to young musicians. Most of my students were under ten and beginners to their instruments, but one of my students was older than the others and had gone through multiple teachers. I was specifically asked to teach this student because of my patience, but, at the time, I didn’t know what that meant. Quickly, I learned that this student had circumstances that made school difficult for them, which sometimes led to the student acting out at school and during our lessons. After a particularly frustrating lesson, I went to my cello professor, another profound and loving mentor, and told her I didn’t think I could continue with this student. I wanted to give up. Again, I was met with a challenge that I never expected. My cello professor looked at me, and she said, “Our job as educators is not to teach our students to play scales or perfect their instruments. Our job is to teach them to be better people.” She instilled in me the importance of recognizing education as a transformative power. As educators, we have the ability and the responsibility to help better people’s lives. We must be willing to feed the potential of those around us to not only master a subject but also use it for good.
Reflecting on the words of these two educators, I finally found my why — why I wanted to attend college, why I wanted to go to graduate school, why I want to be an educator, why I believe in lifelong learning. I am currently working towards a doctorate in higher education, and I want to use my passion for education to train and educate future college leaders. I hope to instill the same passion within my students. Education, both formal and informal, has tremendous power in peoples’ lives. The wisdom shared with me by two of my mentors guides me in my practice today, and I will continue to use their inspiring words to shape how I educate in the future
