The Embarrassing Truth about My Current Situation in Life

***WARNING: Uncensored disclosure of feelings ahead. Proceed at your own risk.***

All of my life, I have been focused on moving forward. I pushed the limits, always looking ahead to the next milestone. I studied hard throughout school so that I could get a full-ride scholarship to a university. There, I worked part time (at 4:00 in the morning) so I could have money to buy textbooks and pay rent. I spent a semester in St. Petersburg, Russia, teaching English to kids, so that I could experience the world and practice my intended profession. In April, I graduated from college with a degree in English Teaching. Now, almost six months later, I’m a custodian at a junior high. 

What happened?

When people ask me why I’m not teaching, I usually explain it very matter-of-factly: after student teaching, I realized that where I taught mattered a lot to my happiness. I didn’t want to commit to a school that would be a bad fit for me just because I felt obligated to rush into the workforce. Instead, I’m going to substitute; that way I can get a feel for the different schools in the area so that I can make a more informed decision next year. When I explain it like this, people usually compliment me on my wisdom and bravery in not following the pack. Which is why I always explain it to them this way, even though it’s not entirely the truth.

The truth is that I panicked.

Student teaching was really hard on me. The political atmosphere between the faculty and the administration was poisonous; I wanted to spend as little time there as possible. I liked being in my classroom by myself, and I usually did fine when I was actually teaching, but creating lesson plans day after day was hard, and I consistently worried that I wasn’t doing it well enough. Because the faculty and administrators were so visceral about (and towards) each other, I didn't feel like I had anyone to confide in about my feelings of inadequacy. And I wasn’t there long enough to figure out if what I was doing was actually making a difference. I knew that many of my students liked me, but many didn’t; and I knew that measuring my abilities by how many of my students liked me was stupid, but I couldn’t not pay attention to that. I wasn’t confident enough in my own judgment, and the reassurance I got from others was often absent-minded and unconvincing. All I knew was that I was constantly miserable, feeling swamped by the tasks ahead of me and feeling doubtful that I would make it through another day.

So when student teaching finally ended, all I wanted was to escape. I ran from teaching, focusing on my graduation but refusing to look beyond that. I decided not to get a teaching job immediately, concerned about making a year-long commitment after already nearly drowning in just one semester. I’d substitute teach instead, I decided.

It’s now mid-September, and I’ve made no progress on that front. I got a custodial job over the summer, and then when school started in August I just . . . didn’t apply to be a sub. The honest truth is that the prospect scares me out of my wits. My stomach writhes at the thought of putting myself through that pain again – and, above all, I worry that I will be terrible at it. If I can’t do something well, I don’t want to do it at all.

 I’m realizing now that if I want to get a move on with my life, something is going to have to change. I need to buy a car, get an apartment, and start really living a real adult life. To do that, I need to start earning more money. That means putting myself out there, ready or not.

I guess I’ve subconsciously been waiting for things to fall into place; I haven’t wanted to move forward until I felt like I had my life back under control. But maybe moving forward is how I’ll get my life back under control.

Maybe it’s time to do the things I’m afraid of. To jump, and just hope that I don’t break any bones.

I have no idea what I’m doing.

 But I’ve got to start doing something.