You don’t remember me.

But I’m choosing not to

remember you –

not in this way.

Not in this

shadow of a self,

wrestling between

heaven and earth.



The past three weeks, I have been observing and helping in a high school class as I prepare for student teaching next semester. It’s been such a joy already, and I am even more excited to teach than I was before, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have reservations.

I often have feelings of inadequacy surrounding teaching (among all the other areas of life). I am amazed by the questions students ask, wondering if I am really equipped to answer these inquiries. I think about the diverse backgrounds my future students will come from, and I struggle to understand how drastically different their lives are from mine. I also have the same sense of humor as 10th grade boys, so I wonder if I’ll even be able to keep a poker face when it matters – if I’ll know where to draw the line between fun and seriousness.

I have an hour-long round trip each time I go to the school at which I work, and these trips are filled with self-doubt, excitement, and attempts to process the things I’m learning. I have no doubt that I have the heart to teach, but I’m nervous to put it into practice.

I don’t know whether or not I can do it, but, my goodness, am I excited to try.