Today in one of my education classes we were told to think back to our elementary, middle, or high school days and pick out a few vivid memories to share with the people behind us. Mine included a teacher throwing a chalk brush at one of the lippier students in my grade 9 year and making him cry, as well as the arrangement of our desks being coordinated with one of my classmates dreams.

So my career will be as an educator. This makes me nervous. It is not really the thought of standing in front of students trying to treat every student equally regardless of their gender or cultural background that makes me jittery - although it certainly plays a hefty part - it is more so the idea that I will be an educator; someone with knowledge; someone with answers and ideas. I remember I saw a comedian once, who used to be a teacher, and he told scenarios about how he would not know the answers to the students questions and he would fake his way through answers just to avoid saying "I don't know," or "Good question." Unlike him, I'm not really scared of saying those phrases, either. I think what really gets me is I do not view myself as an expert or a professional. This semester I will be conducting, with the help of a partner, a tour of a local art gallery to students. When Wendy, the coordinator of such affairs, was talking to us about it and read the description, it said that "professionals" were going to be leading the tour. I don't think a couple of weeks of training will deem me professional. I don't think a couple of years sitting in a classroom, reading books and spending time shadowing a teacher will make me a professional either.

I think and hope that professionalism and the utmost confidence does not make a good teacher. Preparedness, enthusiasm, creativeness, and genuine vigor for doing more than the bare minimum, I am hoping, are what I should focus on as I journey on toward this career. To be more like the teacher of mine who allowed us to assemble our desks in an odd pattern for the rest of the school year because of a dream, and less like the teacher who threw the chalk brush. More like the teacher who frustratingly made us THINK and not spoon feed us, and less like the teacher who played math games to see - very publicly in front of all peers - who was quick at solving math equations and who was slow (you can guess which group I fell into, as an English major).

Perhaps my fear is that I will be red-faced and tongue tied for the entirety of my career. Or maybe, just maybe, these qualities will... somehow help.