I can honestly say that most of my life has consisted of hating research. I have denied ever wanting to obtain a doctoral degree simply of the hours of diligent research that proceeds the writing of a dissertation which is followed by a grilling defense. I have always believed that I would never get myself involved in something that forced me to spend hours on end searching for clues, supportive statements, or information that would lead me into a deeper understanding of something. However, as I am standing here, attempting to piece together something meaningful I have realized that I am in fact a researcher. I suppose that for me, the self proclaimed hater of research has finally found a facet of life that makes this meaningful. Stumbling across this notion I have realized that it is not necessarily "research" that I loathed, yet the act of searching for something that provoked no interest in myself. I have hated searching for meaning in the meaningless, despised the act of searching for something that a higher power and instructed me was the determination of whether I had intelligence. I have discovered, rather sheeplishly, that I love this act of discovery. Although the tedious nature is something I have always turned a frustrated back on, I have realized that it is not the hours of digging that I loath it is the hours of pointless searching for an answer I care little for.
What I search for now are things I care for, I search for meaning and I search for what will help others discover their own meanings. I research for the best possible introductions, I do not search for answers. I continue to find ideas that perk my spirit and instill in me a need to find out more. I do not find answers, I do not find truth because I realize that there is no such thing. What I decide is right today may be entirely different tomorrow, and that my friends finds me with peace.

Preparing for the next step

I am finding myself moments away from my first days as a teacher. It's really amazing to think that my life's work as a student is finally culminating. I am going to step into my classroom on Monday as Ms. Raskin, apparently an alter-ego in itself. I can't wait, but find myself terrified at the fact that I am going to make a difference in someone else's life--or worse, have no impact at all. I've been trying, over the past few days, to put together a unit on a book set during the Iranian Revolution. I love the book, yet continually am finding it difficult to find out what I really want my students to take away. I've flirted with the middle eastern experience, and having very little understanding of it myself am becoming increasingly frustrated. It's so exciting to continue learning, but feels like a let down to find that there's very little for me to stand on...

This I Believe...(a work in progress)

There was one teacher in particular who always told me that I would do wonderful things with my life. As a 12 year old seventh grader, that meant very little to me at the time, but as I grew I always seemed to remember that. Whenever I think of school, I think of social studies that year, a classroom full of adventure. He never allowed us to slide by, but always told us how capable we were and how proud he was to be our teacher.

As I enter into the first years of teacherhood, I take that principle with me, the idea that the classroom is a place of discovery. If I do nothing else during what I hope to be many years in the classroom, I want to bring wonder back into the eyes of my students. I do not kid myself into believing that they will suddenly love English simply because I was their teacher, I do not expect them to suddenly want to become the “next great American writer”. What I do hope for the young minds that grace the desks of my classroom is that they will begin to see that they are the crux of my learning. I want them to know the impact that they have on my life, on each other’s lives, and the lives of those they have yet to meet. I have found through my years in the education system that many times teachers do not celebrate their students. There are lists of material that must be gotten through in the coming months, and although they love the students they have in their classes, there just is not enough time to discuss where the students came from. I hope to infuse life and the celebration of it into my curriculum.

We are all works in progress, and as cliché as that may sound it is something teenagers must hear repeatedly. As a dancer, I have known what it is like to be discouraged; my foot never points the way it should, my legs never feel straight enough, yet at some point I realized it is my body and I must work with it the way it is. My students will enter my classroom, full of angst and frustration that their lives are not going exactly the way they want them to be going. They will be frustrated, because it always seems as if school gets in the way of their busy lives. I want to be able to be a refuge for this frustration, to talk about it openly, and to help them realize that life is what you make of it. You can work with it, or push against it; either is fine but you must be the one to decide how it will be.

I do not look to be an inspiration to my students, only one who knows what it is like to be human. I hope they see my admiration for their progress, both large and small. I hope they see me as a person who makes mistakes, but who loves the process we call life. I hope they leave my classroom with a thirst for wonder and pursue it throughout their lives.