I spent part of my spring break back at high school.
While some people might inwardly (or outwardly) groan at that statement, I was really excited about being in the school because I got to observe high school teachers in their classrooms for my pre-master's of education classes. It was incredible, and I came home both days talking my mom's ear off -- which is not something new -- about what I liked and didn't like about different styles of teaching, and ideas I was getting about how I want to teach.
I have wanted to be a teacher since I was 5. I remember sitting at my chalkboard at our house for hours making lesson plans and teaching them to my brother and sister, or, when they were tired of it, to a roomful of imaginary students. Every time someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I nailed the question without even having to think about it.
In the past few months, though, I've been wondering if I really do want to be a teacher or if it's what I am majoring in because it's the only thing I've ever thought about doing and not knowing what else there is to do scares me. I have so many other interests -- writing, going to Africa, art -- that I want to pursue as a career for part of my life, too. Teaching was starting to lose its luster. The world has subtle ways of planting doubt about my little girl dreams, too. Hearing that most people don't know what career they want to pursue, or seeing a movie where a character makes a sarcastic remark about not still having the same dreams they had when they were a child makes me wonder if I'm mistaken about what I want. And unfortunately, although I could talk for hours about it, a lot of people don't get excited when you tell them you want to be a teacher. (I'll give them the benefit of the doubt, though the ; maybe they're having vivid flashbacks of the lady who publicly embarrassed their art project in first grade or the man who droned in his monotone voice about grammar or government and never bothered to tell them why it applied to their life.)
Actually observing teachers who are passionate about teaching students renewed the excitement of my dream to be a teacher. Watching the teacher in the sophomore religion class I observed, I felt tears starting to well up in my eyes and simultaneously felt extremely silly, alive and complete. It was a moment where I knew God put the dream of teaching, love for him and love for teenagers in my heart for a reason, and I want to pursue that. Watching how much of a positive influence certain teachers had in the students' lives by showing the students they truly cared about them is something I was convicted I want to do, too.
The little girl Mia did know what she wanted.
Mia Pohlman recently graduated from Perryville High School, where she wrote a monthly column about being a high school senior. She will continue her column through her first year at Truman State University.
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