Ok, I Will

*No, I am not getting married!

Lately my mother has been asking me what I think I was put onto this planet to do.  That simple question is a lot harder to answer than you would think.  There are so many things that I want to do and not enough that I can do.  I've changed my mind countless times.  But now,  as my senior year stretches before me, that purpose has become clearer. 

When I was little I always said I would be an elementary teacher,  like my mom.  I pictured myself in a big class room (picturing myself was always difficult. When you're 8 it's very hard to imagine what you'll look like at 25), writing things on a chalk board, answering questions, smiling at my eager students; teaching sounded so fun!  I thought it would be a good idea to practice. So I did.  My sister and I made up a little "school" for my then three-year-old brother.  We taught him his abc's and how to count.  It was fun, but then I started Irish Dance and my priorities changed. 

Now my dream was to get my Irish dance teacher certificate and teach little girls (and the occasional boy) how to point and stretch and jump and spin.  The wonderful thing about this job, my 9-year-old self mused, was that I wouldn't have to go to college.  I could escape the grueling 12 page papers and the awful presentations that college professors dream up.  There was nothing worse in my mind than papers.  If I could escape that evilness, life would be so much better.   I could just go take a few buisness classes, get my certificate and start a school!  This dream stayed with me right up to my freshman year of highschool.

That freshman year was when realization started to settle in.  It was slow, but steady.  It started with encouraging feedback from my writing coaches.  One said "You should write children's books when you're older!"  Another said "I love your writing style!"  My awkward freshman brain started to realize something, I liked writing.  Sophmore year passed and I still liked writing.  Then came Junior year.  My friend Scout started a blog.  My friend stephanie started a blog.   I read my friends' blogs and said "I want to do that."  So I did. 

It was here that I formed a new dream.  Why not be a journalist?  I could write all day long for a living! No interruptions, no assignments, just writing!  But then I realized something else,  I got bored of writing very easily.  Infact, keeping up with my blog was very dfficult.   The busier I got, the more weeks and months went by with no posts.  And here was the really strange thing, I liked school better than blogging.  I loved learning to speak Spanish, I loved reading classical literature.  I even kinda liked Algebra 2! "Alright," I thought, "I'm going to college after all." 

During all this learning, something else was quietly growing in the background.  At the start of Junior year, I started teaching my piano teacher's daughter in exchange for free lessons.  At first the idea of teaching terrified me, but after a month or so I found that I liked teaching.  I liked seeing Kate progress through her lesson book and I liked the relationship I formed with her. So I asked my teacher for more students, and she took me on as an assistant.  I grew to love all of my students.  I praised them when they practiced, and encouraged them to keep going when they looked at me with their big eyes and said the forbidden words "I can't!" At first I only taught students under my teacher, but soon other people were asking me to teach outside of my teacher.  So I did. 

Junior year was drawing to an end.  I started looking at colleges and at different degrees.  It was overwhelming.  So, I decided to just get into a school and worry about the next step later.   My friend told me I should get the SAT over with. So I did. 

I dont remember exactly when, but one day my mom mentioned teaching.  I hadn't really thought about teaching in a long time.  I mean I thought about working with kids by being a guidance councelor or a child psychologist, but the idea of returning to my childhood dream hadn't really crossed my mind.  I looked at various interdisicplinary programs.  And slowly, the idea of me teaching grew more and more appealing.  I again pictured myself at the front of a classroom, this time knowing what I would look like.  I imagined walking around desks, kneeling next to little girls in polka dot dresses and pigtails and little boys with dirt and scratches on their faces.  And I smiled. 

The other day I was in my room, collaging.  My sister was struggling over an algebra problem.  "Rissa, will you help me?" She said.  I walked over to the wipe erase board.  I looked at the problem and started writing it out, "Yes, I will."