Who Do I Want To Be?

Every year around this time, the same thing happens. As soon as the school supplies are schlepped out to the shelves, I start to question my whole identity. I have been a teacher for eleven years now. For eleven years I've been working with children who have difficulty reading and I can say that, yes, it's a rewarding job. Yes, I'm so noble for doing it. Yes, I make a difference because I teach. I also put in ten to twelve hour days from August to June while only getting paid for seven (and not paid well, by the way). I see a lot of stuff that I can't and won't talk about it and by mid April, my mind is absolutely mush.

The funniest thing about all of this is that I never wanted to be a teacher. Yes, I played school as a kid. Mostly it was with this girl named Rachel who always insisted on teaching math. I also have this recollection of being on a long car trip and organizing coins into "classes". The quarter was the teacher. But other than play, when someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I never said that I wanted to be a teacher. I always wanted to be a something slash writer. For instance, it was a paleontologist/writer or a pediatrician/writer. Then it became just a writer.

That dream took a large nose dive when an English teacher told me that my style wasn't formal enough to ever write professionally. I swear that if someone were standing by and listened very closely, they could probably hear my dream catch on fire and flame into a slow death. And what did I do? Did I decide to prove her wrong? Did I decide to let my style be my style? Hell no. I went home and called all of my college choices and abruptly switched my major from journalism and communications to education. Why education? I couldn't tell you why.

All through my college coursework, I questioned my choice. I questioned it even more when I did my student teaching. But instead of thinking of something else to do with my life, I put in applications and God did me a favor. I ended up with a position teaching just reading and writing--the two areas where I rock. And so here I am, going into my eleventh year of doing my thing.

Friday I was watching Oprah when she had on Maria Shriver. She was talking about how stuck she was when she had to quit being a journalist. Maria didn't know what she wanted to be anymore. I couldn't help but think that I've always known what I want to be but I just haven't done it.

I want to be a full fledged writer. I want to write and I want to help other writers. I want to get paid for it and I want that to be my life. Maybe it won't happen over night. Right now I don't have an idea for a book (and trust me, my little baby blog ain't gonna make me any money--part of it is the style :) ).

So here is my pledge to myself--I am going to come up with an idea and an outline in the next two months. From there, we'll see what happens.

Incidentally, my son and I talk a lot about what he's going to do when he grows up. Yes, he's only three but it's never too early to dream. As of right now, we can't decide between a baseball player, a chef and a doctor. I just hope he's happy and he follows his dreams.