… a yoga blog that's not just for yogis
decided to be a teacher when I was eight, when my third grade teacher neglected to report my broken bone and the secrecy that surrounded it to Child and Youth Services. Of course, at that young age, I had no idea what he was supposed to do with the knowledge that I came to school one day shattered and shy, but I knew he should have done something. I knew if I could be a teacher, I would protect children to the best of my ability.
I realized the power of being a teacher again when my sixth grade principal noticed I had waited to be picked up from school for two hours – long after all the other kids had gone home. He sat me down while I waited for someone – anyone – to show up, and he told me that I was important, that I was valuable, that he would always be there if I needed to talk. I never did talk to him, but the way he made me feel has stayed with me all of these years. I knew if I could be a teacher, I would try to make invisible children feel seen and cared about, too.
When I learned about the Holocaust, the reality set in that humanity can be ugly on a scale so huge, it is unfathomable. I told myself that if I could be a teacher, I would teach children to think for themselves, to stand up for what is right and good and just in this world. I thought that perhaps being a teacher could be my way of trying to prevent such evil from taking root.
In high school, I loved the beautiful idiosyncrasies of the punks, the jocks, the nerds, the artists, the quiet ones, the intellects, the normal ones. I knew if I could be a teacher, I would soak up that vibrant energy every day.
As a teacher, I learn more in a day than many might learn in a lifetime. I am challenged, humored, excited, needed, inspired, and rewarded every single day.