A series: Lessons I learned Teaching in my 20s.
It feels like I’m reaching out into my chest and extracting my heart, turning it around in my hand, examining it from all angles. Washing every stain, dipping it in cold water, sterilizing it—and some stains are harder to wash out than others. Some remain longer than others. Some require more attempts than others. Most of the time it hurts. Scrubbing until it’s fully clean and putting it back into my chest until the next opportunity to cleanse it again. If I wait too long, the stains add up and it becomes more difficult and painful.
Am I a good person?
A series: Lessons I learned Teaching in my 20s.
I had to pay a heavy price for my kindness. So many times I have chosen to be kind and in return: the kindness that I had to physically scoop out of my soul and hand it over on the palm of my hands was taken from me, thrown on the ground, and stepped over while I stood there with a hand on my heart assessing the gaping hole where my kindness resided.
Why was it valued at so little, when it took so much from me?
Was it me who valued it at so little sharing it so recklessly with everyone?
A Series: Lessons I Learned Teaching in My 20s.
It’s NEVER about who you were.
There’s nothing I despise more than holding someone’s past against them.
I don’t care that you got kicked out of three universities for failing.
I don’t care if you were an addict.
I don’t care if you were expelled for behavioral conduct last semester.
I don’t care if you took a class with me and failed by absences.
I don’t care if you posted a video on social media that you regret.
I don’t care if you went to jail.
I don’t care who you used to be.
A Series: Lessons I Learned Teaching in My 20s
One of the mistakes I made, frequently, early in my teaching career and still catch myself doing sometimes is assuming things about people based on how they look, what they say, or how they behave.
We all wear our emotions and experiences differently. Sometimes we say things we don’t mean or resonate with. Sometimes we look the opposite of how we feel. Sometimes we do things that are not indicative of who we are right now or what we want to achieve. The most dangerous thing you can do as an educator, or human I guess, is make assumptions.
I hope one day she reads this and realizes this is about her, you changed me.
A Series: Lessons I Learned Teaching in My 20s
Everyone has potential.
I started teaching during the wild, post-pandemic times—mask-wearing, social distancing, and the “please mute yourself” era of online classes. My first students? The ones who had no other choice, but diploma. The ones the system left behind, with every stereotype stacked against them.
But instead of low expectations, I went full Harvard-mode: strict discipline, punctuality, and zero tolerance for slacking. Why? Because I knew they weren’t dumb. The system was.
And guess what? When you mix high expectations with a sprinkle of “I believe in you,” magic happens. They delivered, and I’m still clapping for them.
Sometimes, all anyone needs is someone who sees their potential and refuses to roll their eyes at it.