It started when I was born. Being born prematurely and barely five pounds, I was underestimated. I was underestimated because of the fear that something would happen to me given how little I was and how little I would stay. I was over-protected and that caused a great deal of underestimation. I learned a long time ago that being petite causes people to be very doubtful of one's abilities. I believed it all. I was convinced everyone else was right. I would be capable of very little. Someone would always be there to protect me. If I lived up to everyone else's standards that would be enough and I would be content playing the role of "people pleaser." I was content being underestimated. That is until I decided I wanted to become an educator.
Finding a position as an English teacher was as competitive as finding work as an actor on Broadway. When I was first licensed in the late 80's, there were many interviews but I wasn't fortunate enough to get a full-time position. I moved on to other business. I grew up and learned what the business world really expected of an individual. There could be no excuses. An apology was accepted as long as, "It didn't happen again." If I wanted to put food in the fridge, clothes on my back and own a vehicle, I had better have carried out what was expected. Being underestimated was no longer part of the picture. At 46 years of age, I became a teacher. I had grown up
I don't know if most people understood what it meant to become hired as an educator. It was the pinnacle of all of those "Sorry, next..." interviews and the struggle to those professors that I was worthy of a masters degree. I did become a masters graduate with honors. Honors. I had never known what that meant to be honored with anything. I was indeed honored.
The students who have come in and out of my classroom since 2006 will never really know how incredible it was to stand in front of them and impart what I could. They all became "MY" kids. Each heartache, each accomplishment was ours to share. Some were shared verbally, others not. We never truly know what goes on in the mind of a teenager. The only thing we can do is remember ourselves what it felt like to be 14.
Today, what I see is a great deal of entitlement among those who struggle. No one is entitled to anything. Hard work provides the doors that open and shut. Having said that, I have made so many mistakes underestimating the true nature of what my kids are capable of doing. When I make that mistake, I am reminded of how it felt to have been treated the same. I push them and care for them regardless. This becomes the hardest part of being a teacher. We have a student's best interests at heart even if they refuse our care and lately, many have done just that and it's a sad reminder that we are human. Our hearts ache for the lost.
So to be "underestimated" was probably the very best thing that ever happened to this little woman. I dare anyone to argue that the struggles make you stronger. The successes make you more humble and the years fly by whether we are satisfied with our outcomes or not. As is my habit, I wake at five a.m., get two cups of coffee in me, get dressed, put the face on and drive to my school that has it share of stories, ghosts, and children...who will find out soon enough what life is all about if they haven't already.
Finding a position as an English teacher was as competitive as finding work as an actor on Broadway. When I was first licensed in the late 80's, there were many interviews but I wasn't fortunate enough to get a full-time position. I moved on to other business. I grew up and learned what the business world really expected of an individual. There could be no excuses. An apology was accepted as long as, "It didn't happen again." If I wanted to put food in the fridge, clothes on my back and own a vehicle, I had better have carried out what was expected. Being underestimated was no longer part of the picture. At 46 years of age, I became a teacher. I had grown up
I don't know if most people understood what it meant to become hired as an educator. It was the pinnacle of all of those "Sorry, next..." interviews and the struggle to those professors that I was worthy of a masters degree. I did become a masters graduate with honors. Honors. I had never known what that meant to be honored with anything. I was indeed honored.
The students who have come in and out of my classroom since 2006 will never really know how incredible it was to stand in front of them and impart what I could. They all became "MY" kids. Each heartache, each accomplishment was ours to share. Some were shared verbally, others not. We never truly know what goes on in the mind of a teenager. The only thing we can do is remember ourselves what it felt like to be 14.
Today, what I see is a great deal of entitlement among those who struggle. No one is entitled to anything. Hard work provides the doors that open and shut. Having said that, I have made so many mistakes underestimating the true nature of what my kids are capable of doing. When I make that mistake, I am reminded of how it felt to have been treated the same. I push them and care for them regardless. This becomes the hardest part of being a teacher. We have a student's best interests at heart even if they refuse our care and lately, many have done just that and it's a sad reminder that we are human. Our hearts ache for the lost.
So to be "underestimated" was probably the very best thing that ever happened to this little woman. I dare anyone to argue that the struggles make you stronger. The successes make you more humble and the years fly by whether we are satisfied with our outcomes or not. As is my habit, I wake at five a.m., get two cups of coffee in me, get dressed, put the face on and drive to my school that has it share of stories, ghosts, and children...who will find out soon enough what life is all about if they haven't already.
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