It was painfully obvious once I put two and two together.
All this time I've been wondering what to do with my one precious life. All this time I've been wondering how to stand out in a sea of increasing stress and standard trajectories. Finally, I've found my clarity of mind, soul, and body.
As I move into the new year and anticipate starting a new job, I reconsidered my future career paths and realized that I don't have an overwhelming desire to be an administrator or policymaker in the very near future. Though I continue to intend to implement a plan for community schools, I want to approach it by first being a part of the community, in a real and impactful way. While it would be nice to make a six figure salary and wear heavy coats in a leadership position, the more pressing matter is the good, honest, and necessary work of being a teacher. The process of becoming a teacher has already taught me so much and will eventually make me a better policymaker. I know that living the classroom experience will only broaden my understanding of modern education systems in a way that I could not obtain through any of my policy internships or workplaces. Despite my reservations about taking a significant pay cut, the desire to be a highly accomplished person and being a classroom teacher are not mutually exclusive.
I'm finished applying to teaching programs now, and as much as I'm full of hope, I'm also full of apprehension. Though rationally I know I'm well qualified, the imposter syndrome rages in the background amidst pandemic anxiety and financial insecurity. The fear is paralyzing, and for three days, I wasted away, indulging in avoidance mechanisms. When I finally reconciled my fear of the forthcoming unknowns with my confidence in myself, I found the strength to move forward in a powerful way. Cut out the baggage, focus on what's important. Venture boldly, buoyed by a reasonable self assurance. It is still a confusing time (and admittedly, I'm struggling with conveying my ideas through words in this post), but I trust that the fog will lift eventually. In Sacramento, I'm a ship in the harbor. I'm safe here, but I'm not meant to stay here forever. It will always be here for me if I need to come back, but I crave adventure and discovery and constant new experiences. I'm ready to take on the new year. ◊