When I was a little girl, people would ask me that age-old question… “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Now this is a silly question to ask any child. How can a person of merely seven years old know what they want to be 20, 30, or 40 years from now? How does one know what they want to do for a living in order to support their future lifestyle and family, when they should be playing with Barbie dolls and tamagotchis (remember those?!) and having fun?
Well I knew. I did. I wanted to be a teacher. I dreamt of helping students to grow and learn, teaching them, inspiring them. I dreamt about making a difference to the minds of young people, to their parents, and to society. What I didn’t dream about was what was to come.
It started out all rainbows and sunshine. I loved my students and my students loved me. As a new teacher I received great feedback on my lessons, my teaching style, and the difference I was making. I received card after card addressed to “The best teacher in the whole wide world” along with colourful interpretations of what I would look like if I were a stick figure. I was showered with candles, soaps, and chocolates – more than I could ever consume in a lifetime. I was given many hugs and words of encouragement from my students about how much I had taught them.