17 years ago I had finally figured out what I would do with the rest of my life. I was 18, so obviously I was already an expert at life. With more confidence than a tenured veteran in any career, I set off to Michigan State University with one goal in mind: journalism. I would write peoples’ stories, expose injustice, and explore the world. Equipped with amazing talents that were beyond reproach, I was motivated and ready to arm wrestle anyone who dared to stop me. I was bursting with possibility and a whole lotta pride. Until every internship request was met with a no. Until writing samples were scoffed at. Until I felt the fire in my belly morph into a pit in my tummy. Clearly I wasn’t as amazing as I thought I was. My pride was shattered. My dream of journalism fell apart around me, and it wasn’t long before I felt certain that my spirit for the work had completely dissolved.
Humbled and discouraged, I stumbled into teaching despite every effort to avoid it. I’d been told to consider it by my mother (a former teacher and current principal) but at 19, my life motto was: NO ONE will tell ME what to do. Nevertheless, I agreed to volunteer as a writing tutor for a young lady at an alternative high school in Lansing, MI. Apathetically, I began the assignment. Until the second I looked into the eyes of my first pupil, I was sure this tutoring gig was a minor detour. The student was despondent, quiet, and spoke with hesitation. At our first meeting, I remember wondering how she wound up at an alternative school. Apathy quickly turned into empathy as I saw in her something every good teacher sees in his or her students: a human being with potential. And I saw something similar in myself: possibility. The possibility that my prior career ambitions were permanently detouring into the good work of teaching. A new set of goals emerged — invest in people’s stories, step into lives steeped in injustice, and explore ways to impact the future of the world. My self-focused career ambitions vanished, and new, life-giving opportunities were set in motion.
Week after week I sat alongside my new student reading and re-reading excerpts from The Old Man and the Sea. Together, we wrote and rewrote responses to her assigned writing prompts. She opened up to me, and I learned a little of her story. Her past was void of adult support and mentorship. She was likely to grow up and repeat the cycle of dysfunction unless someone intervened. After just a few weeks, the obvious occurred to me — that teaching is not only a job or even just a career; it is good, hard, meaningful work. Work that required me to think beyond myself. Work that can actually change the future of the world. It wasn’t even a month after I abandoned one dream that I found myself living in a new one. And I believe it was the dream I was meant to realize all along.
I have no idea what became of my first student, but I am forever grateful that she opened my eyes to the work of investing in humans. Now, 17 years after I careened away from journalism, and with over a decade of teaching experience under my belt, I am delighted to share that my two loves —writing and teaching — have intersected. Life has a funny way of circling us back around from time to time. An old passion has been resurrected. But this time, I will write about the beautiful work of teaching. And now, I’ll do so for the love of it. So it is with a grateful and excited heart that I share this blog and website with you! Sign up to receive my weekly note and I promise to deliver practical teaching ideas, impactful stories, and plenty of inspiration.
Joy and cheer,
Lindsay