#chroniclesofbecoming

I saw him today. My classmate and friend from three years ago. I remembered that he was there, but I had a little doubt as to whether he would still be there. But he is.

I saw him during the morning assembly. He grew up a lot. His height is now taller than me. He looked good. But maybe he forgot me. Or pretended to.

I also met another person today. He helped me with my bag. Our eyes met twice today, and the second time was a bit longer than the first, or atleast it seemed to be. He was nice indeed.

It was hard today. Everything completely different. My surroundings, the people, everything being completely different, made me feel cold from inside.

I felt like an alien, left in an unknown planet. I felt completely out of place. People's stare, their cold comments, it made me feel sad.

I miss my old friends, my old place. But I have to spend 2 years there. I will try my best, because this phase will pass soon.

And among all the bad things, one good thing that happened is that I found an old friend of mine in that place. One familiar face.

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.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈