Stepping Stones

When I was in early elementary school I wanted to be two things: a teacher and a writer.

My love for writing definitely blossomed from a love for reading. I developed an appreciation for books and experienced the power of stories at a pretty young age. My dad would read me a Little Golden Book at night before I could read independently. And once I started reading, my mom would take my sister and I to the huge public library near where we lived in the suburbs of Denver every week.

At one point, I became enthralled with a series of books about girls who rode horses called The Saddle Club. (I’m pretty sure a lot of little girls go through a horse phase and I definitely did!) I would write my own chapters of tales involving the characters from the books and let some of my friends read them.

In regards to wanting to be a teacher I think there were a few influences. My mom used to be a teacher before I was born and my aunt who’s always been pretty present in my life was a teacher up until she retired several years ago. I also adored my teachers from kindergarten up until third grade. I specifically remember my second grade teacher, Mr. Parrish, reading aloud from the Chronicles of Narnia every day after lunch and recess. I went on to read them for myself and then listen to the fantastic audio theatre versions of the stories over and over again. It sparked my love for fantasy and remains to this day my favorite book series of all time.

You might be thinking, “Wow, you knew so young what you wanted to be and had your path laid out for you.” And while I think the dream of being a writer always persisted – though its intensity waxed and waned at times – the dream of being a teacher was definitely discarded all throughout adolescence and into my early undergraduate years.

There is one very vivid memory I have that I think initiated an attitude of apprehension toward being a teacher. In elementary school we would have spirit weeks in which each day had a special theme and if you dressed up accordingly the principal would come through the classroom and give out candy to those who participated.

I can’t remember exactly which year of schooling it was, but for one of our spirit weeks there was a future career day. Since I wanted to be a teacher my mom got me a sweatshirt with a design featuring an apple, ABC, and 123. The principal came into the classroom with his bucket of candy and asked everyone who dressed up to stand. There were doctors, a vet, a fireman, and even a future NBA player wearing an over-sized jersey. Each of them received their candy and took their seat. When the principal arrived at my desk he squinted at me and asked what I was dressed as. I said “a teacher.” He looked at my outfit skeptically and must have decided my teacher outfit wasn’t convincing enough because he shook his head and moved on. I didn’t get any candy. I sat down confused and embarrassed.

It seems silly looking back at it now, but I think it made me question that desire to be a teacher. If on a "future career day" in a classroom, my choice of wanting to be a teacher wasn’t taken seriously then maybe it wasn’t a worthwhile occupation to consider.

By the time we had moved to Tennessee and I was in middle school I was dead set against being a teacher. Maybe an actress, a lawyer, or a business person. Something impressive with a big salary. This mindset continued into high school. Although teaching was out, writing was permitted to linger. After all, being a writer had the potential to fit into that category of being majorly successful.

My freshman year of high school I had to take a keyboarding class and the teacher gave us a prompt for a Law Day Essay Contest. Most kids in the class typed something up quickly and turned it in, it was after all just a keyboarding class. But I liked writing and I knew I was decent at it. Writing essays certainly wasn’t my favorite but I put some work into it. My teacher encouraged me to submit it and it ended up winning the 1st place prize at the local level and then achieved 2nd place in the state competition. My teacher, my parents, and I were all invited to the Knoxville Bar Association Law Day Celebration where a portion of my essay was read out in front of a room packed with law professionals. It was one of the first times where I thought I might just have some talent in the field of writing.

I took creative writing classes in high school and then went on to pursue a creative writing certificate in college. The fiction professor at my university was none other than New York Times Best-Selling Author Kevin Wilson. I remember being so nervous when my first piece was up for workshop discussion. And how utterly ecstatic I was when Professor Wilson gave it some glowing feedback.

The summer after my junior year of college I was doing an internship through the Yale Child Study Center and I decided to take the plunge and start a rewrite of a novel I’d conceived in high school. I was able to write a handful of chapters and was excited by the prospect of what it would become.

It was also during my internship time at Yale that I began to seriously look into opportunities to pursue teaching. At that point I’d come to the realization that although I was good at economics and psychology (my majors), I just didn’t enjoy either enough to pursue it further. Thankfully I’d at least acknowledged this could be the case and had been taking classes to earn a minor in education. The times I spent with students in classrooms for those handful of classes had opened my eyes to the dramatic difference between good and bad teachers. After observing a really good one for a semester I felt a desire growing in me to be like her: creative, nurturing, intentional, and problem-solving.

There was still some hesitancy to commit myself to the path of becoming a teacher. When my finance professor asked what my plans were for after college and I told him that I hoped to go into teaching he literally shook his head and said, “what a waste.” The common perspective that teaching is some sort of “lesser” career and the saying that “Those who can, do; those who can't, teach” were definitely hurdles to my pride that had to be cleared.

I got accepted to a program called TeachKentucky my senior year and moved to Louisville after graduation. I was hired as a middle school English Language Arts (ELA) teacher and embarked on my first year of teaching.

It was a disaster.

First years of teaching are notoriously rough, but mine was truly something special. I was in my post as a 7th grade ELA teacher for three weeks. Then someone quit and I got moved to teaching math intervention, reading intervention, and social studies plus running half of a computer lab. For a new teacher whose biggest hurdle is learning classroom management, it was an absolute nightmare! Nine weeks later, after a total breakdown in the assistant principal’s office, I was moved to teaching 6th grade ELA. Though it was far from smooth sailing after that, I at least had my head above water for once.

After three years at that school and constant upheaval to what I was teaching after the start of each school year I switched to another school where I’ve been teaching 6th grade ELA for six years now.

My first year at my current school was the 2019-2020 school year and that spring was when COVID-19 hit the U.S. At that point I was living alone and for two and a half months my work consisted of sitting on an empty Google Meet call for a couple hours a day. I had done some more work on my novel sporadically over the prior summers but it still hadn’t progressed very far. But with the world shutting down and so much time to myself I decided to go full throttle. I wrote 1,000+ words a day for about three months and completed the novel! The rush I felt when I wrote the final page was indescribable. I’d done it! An over 120,000 word fantasy novel that had existed in my head for years was finally out on the page.

Since then there’s been a beta reader, edits of over 20,000 words, and batches of unsuccessful queries to literary agents. I finally conceded to let my husband read it this spring. He’s a very direct and honest sort of fellow, so it was a little scary to allow him to put eyes on it. But he didn’t hate it, he actually really liked it! I know you might be thinking, “He’s your husband, he has to say that.” But he is very analytical and critical about everything he reads and watches and there was no chance he was going to be able to turn that off, even for me.

In fall of 2022 a friend shared the Paolini contest on Vocal with me and I was super intrigued. I’m a huge Eragon fan and writing a dragon story was totally in my wheelhouse. I took the plunge and joined Vocal. I didn’t end up placing in the Paolini challenge and then soon after life became quite a whirlwind. I got a dog, met a guy, got engaged to the guy, and married the guy all within a year. But in November 2023 I decided to take a look at Vocal, realizing I was still paying for a Vocal+ membership. There was a challenge deadline for that day, the Neolomicro challenge. I hadn’t written in a year and I was sure I’d be too rusty to put anything coherent together, but an idea struck and I ran with it.

A couple weeks later I saw my name on a Challenge Winner list and it was like that moment in high school all over again where I felt like, “Hey! I can do this writing thing!” It meant the absolute world to me! I know in my head that validation isn’t everything, but when it comes in those moments you need it most it is such a gift that it’s impossible to take it for granted.

There have been so many stepping stones on this journey to become a teacher and a writer. The two goals I dreamed of as a little kid before the social pressures and harsh realities came barging in. The path was definitely a winding one with some precarious steps along the way. But here I am. I’ve been teaching for nine years and this past year is the one I’m most proud of. And I daresay I can call myself a writer too. Sure, my novel hasn’t been published yet, maybe it never will be, but I wrote it and I love it. And all these other stories and poems that I’ve been encouraged to write through Vocal have shown me that there are more paths to explore in this writing adventure. I’m excited to see where I might end up next.

The pieces I write are my stories and so is this. A succession of countless moments that have brought me to where I am right now. The adolescent version of myself who cared too much about what others think might not give me her seal of approval, but the child version of me who dreamed with all heart would give me a big thumbs up.