The other day i was hanging out with the Fireman telling him all about the UCSS Conference i attended that day. The UCSS is the Utah Council for Social Studies; essentially i attended classes all day to learn how to better teach Social Studies in my future classroom. My cohort sisters and i were expected to go for class (it was that or watch a conference and write a paper). What began as a bit of an unsure Saturday turned out to be absolutely phenomenal and full of amazing activities.
i was so excited about everything i had learned that i had to tell the Fireman all about it when we were hanging out later that day. At one point i turned to him and told him that i could stop talking about the conference if it was boring for him. He told me to keep going because it was cool to see me so excited about this.
Afterwards he told me that i'm going to be an amazing teacher.
You have no idea how much that meant to me. While i know my teachers all want me (and my cohort sisters) to succeed, while i know that they're preparing us to the best of their abilities, it seems like all they tell us lately is that we're not going to succeed. At least not for the first year or so. it feels like they keep telling us that we're only going to be keeping our heads above water the first year, that the first year is the most stressful year we'll ever face, etc.
Just once, while i know they're all rooting for us to succeed, i wanted one of them to tell us that we're going to be phenomenal, that we're going to succeed, that we're going to help our students succeed because that's the whole point of any of this. Again, i know they're only telling us it's going to be hard to help us prepare, but at some point it gets to be extremely discouraging. At some point it almost sounds like we're expected to fail and, in turn, fail our students.
So that one comment, "you're going to be an amazing teacher", from a guy i'm still getting to know, made a world of difference. Here's to you, Fireman, for reminding me that i (and my cohort sisters) can succeed.