Being honest with oneself can be painful. Particularly if, like me, you can temporarily convince yourself of ANYTHING. I have spent a lot of time over the past 9 months living solo avec les enfants, and I am getting to know myself really well.
Here is what I have discovered. I like teaching. I like being the classroom, coming up with plans, getting to know the kids, talking about books with them (even though I probably don't do it in the classic literature teacher way-my brain is weird). I can do paperwork, but while I feel a sense of pride at meeting deadlines, I don't get a thrill to know my i's are dotted, t's are crossed, and legal ducks are all in a row. I am perfectly okay with having a person over me checking that. It's dull, you know. My life is more important than that. But if I can find a way to make it game for myself, to make it a challenge, then I can get it done.
That said, I am not the best teacher. I do my job, and do okay, but I am not going to win any awards. And proficient is fine, but in the US where we are all supposed to be superstars, and work work work, it leaves a weird, unfinished feeling in my soul.
I wasn't supposed to do this. I feel that deep in my heart. It still occasionally blows my mind that I will never get to be a homeschool mom, making treats and discussing history with my kids. I mean, they said we could be anything we wanted. What they didn't say, is that it required marrying well and marry right the first time.
