This is week one of "My Young Adult Years" hosted at Mommy's Piggy Tales.
For as long as I can remember, I knew I was going to be a teacher someday. Growing up I would play school and typically force my younger sister to be my student. I loved spending summers with my aunt, a fourth grade teacher, who would give me old worksheets to use. I loved to learn. I loved going to school myself. I thrived in that type of setting. I just assumed that some day I would grow up to be a teacher as well.
At the start of my freshman year in high school, I had even figured out my plan. I was going to attend Liberty University in Lynchburg, Virginia and study sign language. I aspired to be a teacher for the deaf - like Annie Sullivan. Sign language has held me captivated since fifth grade. My next step was to go on to Gallaudet University in Washington, D.C. to get my master's degree.
I had it all figured out or so I thought.
I did graduate high school and entered an elementary education program....in Maine. I never left the state to get my degree. I never worked with deaf students. I never did become a public school teacher.
I only did one year in the elementary education program. It was there I discovered I wasn't cut as well for teaching as I had first thought. My personality made teaching children tough (yes, I know I am now a homeschooling mom - my life is certainly ironic!). I felt that if my lesson plan wasn't followed to the letter, it was a failure. I probably could have learned to adapt to this, but at the time, I just decide to change majors.
I'll save what came next for next Monday.