Chronicles Of My Becoming

Today wasn't productive as I expected to be.

My class started at 7 AM sharp and ended by 8 AM – just one hour to discuss everything we need to know about observing classes in the basic education department. Our professor rattled off observation protocols, evaluation rubrics, and behavioral indicators we should watch for, cramming what felt like a semester's worth of information into sixty minutes.

Then after that... nothing. Literally nothing. No other classes scheduled, no immediate deadlines pressing, no structured activities to fill the hours. Just me, released into a day that stretched endlessly ahead, armed with a simple observation assignment and absolutely no motivation to tackle it.

The boredom hit me like a wall. You'd think having free time would be a blessing – God knows how many times I've complained about being overwhelmed with coursework. But there's something uniquely suffocating about unstructured time when you're a senior, when you're supposed to be productive, when everyone expects you to be using every moment to prepare for your future career.

I wandered around campus aimlessly for a while, checking my phone every few minutes as if something interesting would magically appear. Sat in the library, opened my notebook, wrote "Classroom Observation Notes" at the top of a page, and then... stared at it.

The blank lines seemed to mock me.

What was I even supposed to observe? What profound insights was I expected to glean from watching other people teach?

This is what they don't tell you about your final year in Bachelor of Secondary Education. It's not always the overwhelming rush of deadlines and requirements. Sometimes it's the opposite – long stretches of nothingness that leave you feeling restless and guilty for not being more productive. The boredom becomes its own kind of anxiety.

Everyone talks about student teaching and thesis writing, but nobody prepares you for days like this. Days when you have one simple assignment and somehow can't bring yourself to start it. When you scroll through social media seeing classmates posting about their busy schedules and internships, while you're sitting in an empty classroom wondering what you're supposed to be doing with your life.

I guess, this is part of becoming. These unproductive days, these moments of doubt, these times when the dream of standing confidently in front of a classroom feels impossibly distant – they're all part of the journey.

In short, the chronicles of my becoming may be messy, non-linear, and often unproductive.

But I suppose that's exactly what they should be.

I'm already in my final year of this program, the Bachelor of Secondary Education with a Major in English. I'm a fourth-year student—a senior, you could say.

Everyone keeps saying "you're almost there!" like it should be exciting, but mostly I'm just overwhelmed. Three years of theory, of sitting in major subjects, professional education classes talking about teaching, and now I'm about to actually do it. In real classrooms. With real students who deserve better than me figuring it out as I go.

There have been a lot of questions that runs around in my mind.

Like what if I can't control the classroom? What if the students don't listen to me? What if I blank out during my demo teaching? What if my cooperating teacher realizes I don't actually know what I'm doing? What if three years of education courses weren't enough to prepare me for thirty, forty or even fifty pairs of eyes looking at me like I should have answers?

Being a Fourth-Year student feels like the moment of truth. It's not just observing anymore, or writing reflection papers, or discussing theories. It's me, standing in front of students, trying to teach something meaningful. The weight of that responsibility feels enormous.

I envy my classmates as they seems so confident. They talk about their lesson plans and classroom management strategies like they actually know what they're talking about.

Meanwhile, I'm here questioning everything.

Am I cut out for this? Did I choose the right path? What if I'm not good at the one thing I've spent four years preparing for?

But I'm here. I've made it to fourth year. I must be doing something right, even if it doesn't feel like it. Maybe being overwhelmed means I care enough to worry about doing well. Maybe anxiety means I understand how important this is..

I don't know what will happen to me when I'm about to start teaching, but I have a feeling that my cooperating teacher will teach me a lot of things as well as discovering things about myself that I never knew about. And maybe that's what becoming really means - not knowing what's coming, but showing up anyway.

Here's to becoming, even when it's scary. Especially when it's scary.

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