Growing up, all throughout school, I wanted to be a teacher. I had watched all of my favorites, all that inspired me and I wanted to be them.
My sixth teacher is the one that pushed me the most down that path in life. She would never let me give up on anything that I would be putting my mind to, no matter how much I wanted to. There was a downing point in my life during year that occurred between typical preteen girls that I thought were my friends, and she helped me through that with more than a “walk it off”. She aided me through the dark days.
When junior high was my next step in life, I had an amazing English teacher, who would push her students. She was seeming to point me even further in which direction I would go. More than just our grammar, she would tell us which road might be calling us; fiction, non-fiction, science fiction. She wouldn’t tell us that we were wrong, she would assist us in inviting a reader into our minds.
Then, onto the more difficult years in my life, High school, I came upon another teacher, who helped me onto the dived trail, in case maybe I wanted to help the future youth about not only English, but maybe the dramatics. Ah, theater. I could now pretend to be what was on my mind. I now knew that it was okay, to not be real. My director, taught all of us, that singing, dancing, showing an audience that we could be who was on our minds; that was another path in my life.
I finished these twelve years with a big cloud of hope hanging over my head. I knew what I wanted to be; an English teacher, an English teacher, I knew that I’d be an English TEA-cher (only a few of you were in that play). But then, the doors burst open upon me into the college world. When I set foot into that, auditorium, of the first years teaching class, I felt my heart sink deep into my stomach. My first class of the day, Intro to Teaching, was filled with 300 students. And this was just the AM class.
As the three professors began to explain the program to us, with 300 people that were surrounding me and the three professors below explaining how this program worked, my dreams began to sink. They explained how the teaching program excepted only 100 students. There was another Intro to Teaching class, which I assumed was just as full as this one. We may only be excepted by a few various schools through-out the state to begin along our paths of Student Teaching. This just made me think in the back of my mind that I had no chance; I may never be a teacher. No person really listened to me when any words came out of my mouth, so why would a 13-year-old want to learn from me? I trudged through the next six months with my head hung low, my dreams shattered.
When I returned home at the end of semester, I decided I couldn’t go back. I had no chance at being a teacher. I would continue my education, though. There were still local schools all around me. For what I had had, my mind endured no idea of what stood on the roads ahead in life. Going over my community colleges Winter classes, I looked over what sounded the most interesting. Of course, I chose the normal math and science that were required. Then I saw one that looked a little cool; Criminal Law and Administration of Justice. A bubbled popped over my head, “I could be a lawyer!”
The first week of this class, I couldn’t feel more comfortable. As grumpy an old man that my professor was, I loved it. And I understood everything he was talking about. I could grasp upon all of the Michigan Law he would gargle about for three hours. The words he spat at us, they stayed in my mind and I could argue back with no shame in my heart.
I continued on for the next three years, realizing that I had to change lanes into the legal assistant field. It’s all really a lower level of paralegal. Diving further into this field, I began to love learning more and more about all of this. It also made me realize how good I was at arguing and winning. So, maybe an English Legal Assistant I will be. Bam!