I
cried. I cried ugly all over her because I simply wasn’t strong enough to hold
back the idea that I had failed. I had failed at the career I had prepared for at
a college that specializes in education for the last four years. I was a good student and teaching had always
seemed to come nearly natural to me: I could read a book and instantly think of
comprehension questions and ways to creatively cover it in the classroom; I
could think of writing prompts and grammar strategies without much effort.
Other than being a veterinarian, like every other country-raised girl, teaching
was the only thing I had ever seen myself doing for the rest of my life. All of
these aspirations and preparations crashed in a matter of a fifteen minute,
impromptu meeting with the principal and assistant principal. I was blindsided
as each of my shortcomings over the last semester were thrown back at me with
no case to defend myself other than I thought I was better than this…I thought
I would do better than this. I couldn’t fail.
I
ugly cried over the next twenty four hours and in sporadic spurts over the next
couple of months. What was I supposed to do? How could I make it another
semester knowing that I wasn’t returning and knowing that I had failed? How
could I look at everyone who had told me I was going to be a good teacher and
had helped/supported me and tell them that they were wrong…that I wasn’t as
good as they had thought…that their perceptions had been proven wrong in a
matter of fifteen minutes that continued to replay in my mind over and over? I
couldn’t. Hollie was the only one who knew until I couldn’t hold the questions
of how teaching was going and fake responses any longer.
Nearly
every morning for the next semester, I had to drag myself out of bed into a job
that I knew I couldn’t do well enough. I was anxiety-stricken and totally lost
as to where to go from here. I struggled
to find joy in the students that I had so easily loved. I battled the fear to
just stay in bed. I had failed the career I had prepared for…what is one
supposed to do after that? Where is there to go when where you thought you were
going isn’t an option any longer?
The
next five months taught me five top things about failure:
1.) Cry Ugly, then Put on Your
Big Girl Pants:
I held on to the idea of failure for too long, I let it pull me away from a
successful semester of teaching and into an anxiety-filled life. I continued to
cry for a bit too long and continued to let the words eat away at my
self-esteem. I needed to put on my big girl pants and get back to my every day
life a bit earlier than I did. Wallowing in failure is simply selfish and there
are people counting on you to put on your big girl pants.
2.) Jump Back and Prove ‘em
Wrong: Once I
pulled myself out of my funk, I was determined to take the rest of my time with
students and be every bit of the teacher that I knew I was capable of being. I
was a Pro-Athlete playing the last game before I walked into retirement…leaving
everything on the field, attempting to play tough enough for even the
opposition to miss me.
3.) Own It, Forgive Yourself: It was a solid two or three
more months until I even told the rest of my team my fate because letting them
know meant admitting my failure out loud and I just didn’t want to do that.
People fail. Perfectionists fail. Perfectly sought after plans fail. The end.
You’re not immune to the laws of the world, own the fact that you failed...because you're not the only one. The second part was one of the hardest things to do. I have always had high expectations for myself and don't like not meeting them. I can't remember ever getting a 'F' in school or quite honestly, not being good at something that I thought I could do. I don't know which was harder...thinking I disappointed others, or knowing that I had disappointed myself. I had to not only own my shortcomings so I could move on, but forgive myself for not living up to what I had thought I could do.
4.) Let Others into Your Mess: After that devastating meeting,
I tried to pull myself together. I tried to act like nothing happened and
forget the words that were said and put my mind to work. That lasted all of
about five minutes until a teammate asked what was up with the meeting. My
poker face lasted all of two more seconds until the tears came falling. I have
no idea how I would have made it through the rest of the day and semester
without letting Hollie into my mess.
5.) Just because you failed,
doesn’t mean you’re a failure:
This was the hardest…I had failed at something that I was so prepared for, how
could I take on a new career that I hadn’t had four years of college classes
in? It was hard to admit that there was still a long list of possibilities for
my future if I allowed myself to realize that I wasn’t a failure. I was just a
person who had failed. That mindset made all the difference.
Last
night I cried ugly again. I don’t fully know why, but I think part of it was
realizing how completely different of a place that I am in now. I am in a job
that I had zero plans or preparation for, but one that was clearly provided by
God. I’m learning to find freedom in letting myself fail and owning my
weaknesses because that only allows for God’s faithfulness to overshadow
myself. I can’t honestly say I am grateful for the fifteen minutes that changed
everything I thought I had a year ago, but I can say I’m grateful for where the
experience forcing me to trust God has lead.
