This week will conclude my first semester as a teacher and my first semester living in New Orleans. Wrapping up this semester, I am left with incredible memories, successes, moments of joy and, unfortunately, feelings of uncertainty about the quality of work that I have done. Of course, I believe that I have made a valuable impact on the lives of (some of) my students, but have I really done the job that I set out to do 7 months ago?
Sundays, for whatever reason, leave me with what can only be described as a nostalgic and somewhat existential feeling. This day marks the end of one week and the beginning of another. Here I am, per usual, at the crossroads of two intersecting periods of time: the past and the future. I find myself googling pictures of Austin, Facebook stalking old friends, and listening to music that reminds me of Texas, my youth, and old loves (not necessarily of the romantic persuasion), as I simultaneously look up internships for next summer, incessantly re-research graduate programs, and rethink my "vision" of next semester.
"Doing" TFA for the next year and a half will undoubtedly change how I interact with the world around me. I already feel myself changing in an incredibly fundamental way. I am far more assertive than ever before, far less fearful of confrontation, more comfortable with who I am and how I appear to others; I am less judgmental, more patient, and more understanding. However, I don't want to come out of this experience with it being just that: an experience. I also don't want to be naive enough to see this as a service to others. I want it to function more or less as a symbiotic relationship. If I can grow and expand my life experiences while I make a positive impact on the lives of the children I teach, I suppose no real harm has been done, even if nobody (save myself) has undergone transformational change in the end.
As for you, Texas, love of my life, I will see you in a week.
