It is not what we think or feel that makes us who we are. It is what we do. Or fail to do...”
― Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility
I was sitting beside a wonderful colleague of mine yesterday and, for one of our assessments, we were asked to analyse our identity and who we are as teachers. Anyone who knows me will know that I struggle with questions like this. I said I understand now (after eight years!) what I bring to the table as a teacher, but I don’t know why.
Now, as a notorious and highly-skilled overthinker, I was still pondering this question today. How can I sum myself up in a one sentence pitch when I am nothing but an amalgamation of my lives, of my parents contributions, of my experiences, of my ancestry and of my decisions?
What is it that makes us us?
I had a relatively good idea of who I was about seventeen years ago. Then I moved to the United States.
I started high school over there and it was the pinnacle of discomfort for me. I went from the girl who had the same friend group since aged four to the girl who had no friends. I’ve always been a shrinking violet, but I shrunk even more.
I went to university at Texas Tech for a year and understood it to be an opportunity to start from scratch. There I learned that I was capable of academic achievement after being an okay student for most of my life. I learned there that I wanted to be a great student, not just an okay one. I also realised that the Bible Belt culture was not where I needed to be and I began to stand a bit firmer in my convictions after being constantly made to feel that who I was wasn’t okay.
My Nana passed away the summer after that and I learned that life can be absolute sh*t and that grief is really a spectrum. I also learned how strong my father is, so much more about who my Nana was and that life really is about the ebbs and flows.
I went to the University of Texas at Austin and learned that my life would be so much richer from the diverse pool of friends that I could cultivate. I learned that there is nothing in life that is worth the trauma of the gun culture in the US. Waking up to a shooting on campus and walking past bullet holes in the ground solidified my views on this. I learned that education is a gift and those who show us the knowledge of the world and ignite our passion for the quest of knowledge are heroes.
I learned after that the first job doesn’t need to be the dream job and that skills are skills. You never know that the hour you spent shredding papers in the office of the boss that bullied you would teach you more about how to treat someone than anything else. I learned that being an immigrant is a life lesson in adaptability, disappointment, and overcoming obstacles that are completely inane.
In graduate school, I learned that success requires sacrifice. I learned that competition with yourself is better than competing with others. I learned that mentors have a profound impact on your life.
In Tennessee, I learned how to be a teacher from those around me. I learned that you will never be happy if your heart doesn’t feel at home. I learned that five years of discomfort was worth it for a little dog who taught me how to love unconditionally when I didn’t know how to before. I learned that showing someone else their potential is more rewarding than finding your own.
Back in the UK, I learned that your heart really does tell you where you need to be. It doesn’t shut up actually. At least mine didn’t. I learned that simple things are life’s great treasures. I learned that being unapologetically you is important. I learned that though our feet may take us elsewhere, our roots are powerful. I learned that you need to be okay with those who don’t have your back as much as you hoped and that endless gratitude is required for those that do.
In essence, I learned. Maybe that’s why a sentence to sum ourselves up is so hard. We have yet to meet ourselves tomorrow because we are still learning. We are still implementing these lessons into our decisions every day. What we do and how we contribute to the world is wholly dependent on our willingness to learn.
Maybe my pitch is: I’m Aimee and I’m still learning. I’m not just a teacher, but a student. I’m still trying to learn about myself and the world. I am still trying to learn who I am. I’m still trying to learn how to support others better. I am still trying to learn what my purpose is. One thing I know for sure is that I will never stop trying to learn.
There’s a beautiful quote by the Renaissance man himself, Leonardo da Vinci, “Learning is the only thing the mind never exhausts, never fears, and never regrets.”
Being able to have such a weird little life has presented me with many opportunities to learn. Many times I didn’t like the lessons, but they were important nonetheless. I guess my little nugget in this long spiel is that sometimes learning is uncomfortable, but never stop trying. We are lucky in this day and age that we are gifted each day with ample opportunities to learn about ourselves and others. Use those opportunities, even when they hurt.
And they will.
But keep going.
Keep learning.
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