Teaching is Rejection Therapy

Let's play 2 Truths and a Lie:

1. 25 pairs of bright eyes stare at me, committing my every movement to memory, chairs creaking forward to ensure the students do not miss my next word.

2. I sit at the local café with twelve new co-workers, cigarette smoke perfuming the fall breeze after a lazy walk down the street as a reprieve from the day.

3. Each day begins and ends with blissful commutes through wondrous mountain valleys, train-to-bus, and bus-to-train before the endless sun welcomes me into my apartment, J-walking the last leg to have an extra minute of siesta.

   

   La Catedral de Oviedo during San Mateo.

   
   

¡Enhorabuena (congratulations) if you guessed that all three were lies!

It has been officially two weeks since teaching my first class in Spain. Though a rigorous application process decided if I was qualified to teach English to 12 to 16-year-olds, I am not so sure that I thoroughly vetted what it meant to be a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant (ETA). As I am sure those in my life can attest to leading up to this moment, I can honestly tell you I did not know what to expect going into the year as an ETA.

After setting up a Spanish phone number and bank account, attending orientation in Madrid, finding an apartment, meeting co-workers, and completing paperwork, I was finally at the mercy of the 25 pairs of eyes that belonged to the 12-year-olds I worked so hard to be in front of. This was humbling to say the least.

Amidst traveling with friends and family this summer after graduation, I felt nervous to begin teaching students. What experience did I really have? I started questioning the logical reasoning behind employing post-graduates with non-traditional teaching experience. I felt out of place and that perhaps a mistake had been made. I could only ask myself, "What was I doing here?"

I stared back at the angsty teenagers, praying they couldn't see my hands shaking as I plugged in my USB to the projector.

I blinked. I steadied my hands. I took one last deep breath.

Suddenly my mind was clear. My questioning, lopsided smile straightened and only grew to match the feeling of excitement I could feel tingling in my chest.

I no longer carried this ball of anxiety and uncertainty that had plagued my summer. I was all too exhausted to continue to concern myself with wondering what this experience should be. With a "go ahead" from the classroom teacher, I began my first lesson, dropping all expectations for this experience. I leaned into the reality that this year will present new challenges daily, challenges I am not used to facing. The only certainty was uncertainty.

Here are the honest truths behind the three lies I initially told:

1. These 25 pairs of eyes did not immediately stare at me with undivided attention. Instead, the students whispered with devious smirks, perhaps curiosity, and jokes I could not understand in Spanish.

2. I spend a half-hour at the local café where my co-workers like to spend their break as they speak in native Spanish, too fast for me to engage with yet.

3. The trains and busses run off schedule, so I trudge to new stops each day to see if I can make it to work on time, often getting gawked at when crossing the street on a red light amidst a light rain.

   
   

I face these new, weird, and culturally different challenges daily. There has not been one day where everything has gone perfectly. For example, throughout the span of four days, my toilet broke, the apartment wifi took 6 hours to set up, I went to the wrong class not realizing it for ten minutes, I learned grocery stores are closed on Sundays, I bought a router when I meant to buy phone wifi, I tried hitch-hiking home before my principal pulled over and told me I was on the wrong side of the street, and so many more.

But this is the beauty in starting something new. As I move away from life as a student-athlete, I realize I was comfortable in this feat after four years. I knew my expectations in every aspect of my life. I had these expectations from my team as a player needing to put up stats, I had them socially as a friend needing to fit into each dynamic, I had them in the classroom as a student needing to get good marks and to prepare for my career. I knew my expectations and thus was rarely rejected because this environment was safe.

Following life after college as a Fulbright Scholar, I have this amazing opportunity to get rejected during challenges every day. In these rejections, I am excited to figure out what I want out of life without the comfortable structure college provides. I am learning during each mini-failure by letting go of what I think should happen by accepting the uncomfortable, taking in new information as it comes, and adapting to each situation in the moment.

This teaching experience is rejection therapy. It is a bridge into my next phase of life because I will become more comfortable with these rejections. Taking these rejections from my students, from the confusing chatty café table, or from the bus schedule as wins rather than losses, I will grow and learn so much about myself this year and I can't wait for the journey.