Why I Want to Be a Teacher

One of my former students, Alex, called me a couple of days ago to thank me for sending her a letter she thought I wrote to her. In actuality, she wrote the letter to herself during the last few weeks of the summer program through which I met her, and being the goofball that I am, I kept her letter along with those of some other students, so I mailed the letters a couple of days ago (mind that they were supposed to be sent over a year ago).

I called her today to catch up and to see what she was up to. When I was teaching Alex, she was shy, temperamental, and really, really nervous about speaking in public. It was difficult for her to practice presentations because her stage fright would absolutely paralyze her. Through hard work and a lot of encouragement from her classmates, she became a strong speaker, and her team eventually won our site competition despite significant odds.

She's grown so much since I met her two summers ago. She's training to run in her fifth (I know...) marathon, has inspired a younger student to take up running as well, is applying to great schools, is vice president of her student body, and is considered by one of her teachers to be one of the maturest and most well-poised students he has, especially during presentations, which she used to dread.

This was the same girl who was unsure of herself and afraid when I first met her, and now, she's owning the world. Being her teacher has allowed me to see all of this, to be a part of this amazing journey that is her life. Seeing her blossom into the amazing leader that I always knew she was has been one of the greatest honors I've ever experienced, and to have been able to contribute to that (I hope) in at least some small way is more satisfying than most things I've ever done. To even be a part of this amazing girl's life story is a privilege, and being a teacher allows me to meet and hopefully teach and inspire more students like her.

"I want the money, the cars and the clothes, the ---- / I just wanna be, I just wanna be successful..."

Fuck that. If I can spend my life teaching students like Alex, then Drake can want forever, he can have it back. I'm going to be a teacher, damn it.

Afraid to Fly, Afraid of Falling

I'm contemplating going to my first dance class in a very long time. I keep watching YouTube video after video of choreographers that inspire me to move; I freestyle when no one's watching or when I'm drunk and not feeling embarrassed. And yet I haven't touched an official dance class since Shaun Evaristo in 2006. I can only remember falling behind and completely screwing up the routine, and I'm afraid it'll happen again.

It's not like I haven't gotten better. I've danced with a team for two and a half years and even did my own choreography. I freestyle and study beats and rhythm. But I am scared shitless for the intermediate class tomorrow. It's with Jay Chris Moore, and I'm not sure I'm versed well enough in isolation to keep up. We'll see.

I know that if I want to be better, I have to take a chance and be willing to the dunce for a little while. But God knows I'm afraid of looking like a tool.

Overdue

I can't believe that I waited 26 days to post something new on this blog, especially considering that I thought I would do almost daily updates. I realized last night that I do a lot of my "journaling" in my mind. Not everything sticks and stays, but I like to think that what's most important tends to keep in there. Maybe not.

----------

The greatest compliment that I've ever received was that I would be a great father one day. I wonder if that's why I want to be a teacher so badly. The essence of being a good father (at least in my opinion) involves a love for your child(ren) that supersedes your own wants and needs. But is that necessarily true? It's the type of love I've seen from my parents, a sacrificial love that I wish to characterize my relationships.

Even as I continue to contemplate how "religious" I truly am, the scripture that has continued to influence me is: "Greater no love hath no one than this, that one lays down one's life for one's friends" (John 15:13). If life is our greatest gift, then the perfect love asks we be willing to give that up for those we love. Jesus goes on tells his disciples: "This I command you, that you love one another" (John 15:17).

I'm not good at many things. When job applications ask me what my skills and hobbies are, the list is short: writing, reading, basketball, public speaking, dancing. Even now I can't think of things I could say I've mastered. But I do believe that God gave me an uncanny ability to empathize. Imagine if I put "empathy" as one of my skills! But really, it seems like I feel the pain of others pretty intensely; I probably cry more often than any person I know.

I used to think of this as a weakness, that I couldn't control my emotions, which would make me erratic and schizophrenic. But after really observing myself in states of empathetic sorrow, I thank God for making me "weak". The anger and sorrow that comes from my inability to control my emotions has been the driving force behind what I want to do with my life. I say I want to be a teacher or work in education or whatever, and I think I want to do these things because it has been the way in which I could manifest my empathy the best. But to be honest, I just want to spend my life loving other people. My family. My friends. Everyone. I know it sounds cliché and unrealistic, but love has been what I have been searching for my entire life, and it is only very recently that I realized that one receives love if one gives it. I believe that each person is given a purpose, and I believe mine is simply to love others, in a way as close as possible to the perfect love that Christ displayed for us.

[Hahaha, I'm crying now as I write this... Surprise, surprise.]

I've always wanted to be a hero. I always thought that my desire to jump on a grenade to save my platoon, or to jump in after a drowning person, or to push someone out of the way of a speeding bus, was a selfish desire to achieve that ultimate distinction of being a hero. And maybe it is, there's no way I can tell if I'm being completely selfish in that way. But the more I look at it, I think my desire to do these things comes from wanting my life to mean something, even if it was defined through death. I want to do these things because I want my life to be defined by love, and if possible, the ultimate love. The kind that Saint Paul speaks of, the love that is kind, patient, knows not of pride, does not dwell in injury, and that is unconditional and eternal. A sacrificial love. The love I feel from my parents when I realize they could have gone on vacations or fancy dates or could have bought themselves nicer things. My dad wanted to be a millionaire by the time he was 35, but wouldn't risk my family's financial security because he knew his dream had to come second to his children's future. My mom wants to be an interior designer, but works at a job she doesn't like all that much because our family needs her income to maintain our lifestyle and to pay for mine and my sisters' educations. They've given up so much for me, and while their manifestation of love isn't quite what Christ described, they gave up (maybe dedicated is a better word) their lives in a different way, because they loved my sisters and me.

I want to be heroes like my parents are heroes. I don't want to be Superman. I just want to be a father, and to spread that love to as many people as I can, especially to my children.

A Stranger in My Own House

Today is the first day I'm spending at Sigma Nu as an "outsider". I don't have a permanent room to sleep in; I don't have a key to get into the house on my own. It's constraining but liberating at the same time.

Being at school without classes or homework feels good. It's okay if I fart around and work on whatever I want for as long as I want before I go out or go to bed. In fact, it's addicting. I know that when I get back that I'll want to have this sort of flexibility in deciding what to do with my time.

It's also great to see people who don't expect me to be on campus. It's almost like I'm a ghost to them, a dead man walking. It's a little awkward at first, but seeing familiar faces is one of the greatest feelings a person can feel, especially if he or she feels like a stranger in his own home.

Tiq was right; I really do appreciate this place and the people in it a lot more now that my relationship to it has changed. In addition, I appreciate the freedom of being at home even more as well. I still feel a little constrained being on campus, like peer pressure is more powerful here or something.

I still love this place. But I love home too.

Life is great.