Growing up, I knew I was going to become a teacher. But that was not the only dream I chased… I also wanted to be a writer. A novelist to be exact.
My younger self would greedily sit at our family computer for hours, fingers flying across the keyboard. Stories just poured from my fingertips; ideas gathered from years of burying myself in books would come to life, click clacking their way on to my computer screen.
Cozied up in my grandma’s over-loved rocking recliner chair, the world around me just seemed to fade away and I would just type, and type, and type…
Time passed, like it does. And I grew up and got busy. My love for writing slowed down…Shifting from writing stories about adventures and escaping to foreign countries I could only ever dream about, to writing essays about color symbolism in “The Scarlet Letter” and thesis papers about my educational philosophy.
And before long, I was teaching writing. Teaching my kiddos how to write about what they loved, about themselves and their experiences, to be creative and try out their hand with short stories. To choose words thoughtfully and lovingly. To learn how to use language to craftily send a message.
And while I may not be a professional novelist making millions while sitting on New York Time’s Best Seller list, I guess you say I accomplished my dreams- of being both a teacher and a writer.