Looking back now, I’m not really sure why I ever let myself believe that I shouldn’t be a teacher. Yet somewhere along this road, I did. I put that dream down, much like I did with poetry in high school, under the familiar guise of, I’ll never be good enough at this so why try?
Because you see, when it comes to educators, I drew the absolute longest straw, and have been nothing less than blessed. Sure there were one or two professors and teachers over the years who I didn’t gel with or just genuinely couldn’t stand going to the class of. But on the whole, I was taught by some of the most genuine, kind, supportive, funny, inspiring human beings that walk the face of this Earth. I am not hyperbolic when I say that without them, I would not still be here typing this sentence.
I still am, because of them. How could I ever rise to meet such an impossible standard?
Then came my 30s, which so far (and largely thanks to a global pandemic and societal upheaval) have managed to be very mind-opening for me. I’ve grown up, moved on, let some things go, and even had others let go of me. I truly believe I’ve become the most myself I’ve ever been because of it.
Most recently, I’ve also reunited with some of those teachers who shaped me, thanks to the release of STILL THE STARS back in November. Teachers from middle school came to my book launch when even my current coworkers didn’t. The very next day, my high school welcomed me back home to talk with teens to share the story of my own journey from NAHS grad to published author, in hopes it may encourage some of them to pick up their pens. Then this spring, I was invited back again to host a writing workshop with the students for their annual Diversity Day, where I got to sit in a classroom of my alma mater, helping others find their voices so they can contribute their own verses.
And on both of those days I visited, every teacher I spoke with was asking and coaxing, “So when are you going to come teach here?” I was a bit too stunned to speak.
The idea took root, gathering nutrients from the dreams I’d buried about ever pursuing further education. I’m too in debt. I’m not smart enough to handle it. My writing will never be good enough. The list of doubts had gone on and on for so long—a raging storm I was caught in the midst of. But when asked that question, it became an eye of the storm moment of clarity—who cares about ‘good enoughs’ if I am chasing down a lifelong dream and giving back to the next generation? If others before you could do it, why not you?
I spent the last months still waffling back and forth. Should I? Should I not? Do I just take a depression nap until the urge to encourage the youths goes away? I felt like I was waiting for a sign, I just didn’t know what that sign was until it was sitting across from me at a table in Saxbys.
This over-coffee sign came to me by way of my first in person meeting with my professor for the World Literature class I decided to take this summer, sheerly for the fun of it, and to see if being back to school was even something I wanted. Turns out that after all these years, school still manages to get me burst-out -of-my-skin excited about things, and so even though the class is all online, I can’t tell you how at home I’ve felt getting to critically/creatively interpret these ancient texts and discuss them. I feel revitalized in a way I didn’t know was possible, and in just the first three weeks of this one class, I’ve written over well over 10 pages of new poetry and nearing 50 pages of verse fiction.
Why share all that with you? Simply because I find myself more ready than I think I could ever be to take this leap. But of course, nothing is ever simple, and so there is one roadblock in my way at the moment. I still have an outstanding financial hold at my undergrad from a Perkins Loan that fell into default in the years immediately after graduating, because at the time, I was barely making minimum wage while dealing with maximum stress. The university won’t even release my unofficial transcripts without the hold being taken care of in full, which is preventing me from even applying to the programs I am interested in.
So I am turning to friends, family, and this little community of cool folks I’ve met online and through my writing life, hoping that if y’all can spare it, you can maybe help me get over this hurdle, and into a graduate program. The job I work now (which I love, and talk about a lot in the GoFundMe description) is being really supportive, and I have confidence that one way or another, there is a path to success here. I know times are hard financially for us all these days, and so even if you can’t donate, every share of the campaign or this post helps spread the word to perhaps someone who can.
Hope is a helluva thing, and I for one don’t intend on letting this spark of it go anytime soon. Here’s to it, and the chance that just maybe, this fall, I’ll be writing y’all dispatches from grad school. 😉
Visit the link ‘Get Elayna to Grad School! GoFundMe’ or share the page with your friends!
Featured Photo by Dmitrij Paskevic on Unsplash