For many years now, I’ve wanted to teach. I’ve known all along that I want to teach elementary aged kids. Specifically, I want to teach fourth grade. I started the process to gain teacher certification in Texas not long before I had the aneurysm but the total time for my full recovery combined with the fact that I lived in a house of hell, prevented me from acquiring it. This fact is a prime example of how and why things don’t always work out when we want them to but that they always for out for our good. It was meant for me to move back to Louisiana. It was meant for me teach here and to live here. Of equal importance is the fact that I lived through an extremely abusive (mental/emotional) marriage. My passion to help other women get out of and overcome the after effects of abuse burns deeper and deeper with each passing day as does my desire to teach younger children.
My drive to teach is deeply rooted in the fact that I believe education is vital to thrive. I was blessed enough to have some of the greatest teachers on Earth throughout my school years. They cared. Not only were they interested in seeing me achieve my academic goals so I could forge ahead on the roads they had paved, they wanted me to charter my own course and develop my own territory. I was raised in a very small town in northeast Louisiana and racism was run-of-the-mill. I was blessed to be in the presence of four strong Black female teachers and one Black male. They taught me that I was just as good as the next kid and could achieve just as much. I will pass that vision on. No, I won’t focus only on Black students. That’s ridiculous because I believe all children should be encouraged to believe they are wonderful, smart human beings who are just as capable of achieving a dream as the next kid. Education is vital in this life. It is vital to life. I enjoy the process of learning and I’m mindful enough to know that we don’t all absorb things the same way and learn at a different pace and through different methods. I will do my part to open the mind of a child.
Over the years that I was married, I managed to construct a wall, an ironclad barrier that not only blocked the pain of the words and actions that would crush the normal woman but one that prevented me from “feeling” much of anything. With the exception of death, I learned not to react to anything. With the exception of my son and matters related to him, I shut down. I shut down totally and completely. I had been told time and time again that I “blew everything out of proportion” regardless of the action that prompted my anger, disappointment. fear or outrage. It never mattered if my feelings were hurt or if I had been blatantly disrespected, I was always told that I needed to stop being so sensitive. One day, I did. I stopped caring. Oh, I would do the most clowning at ballgames and I would magically spring back into an active existence when it came to Will, but for the most part, I was just a warm body.
I think back to all the days and nights I didn’t like anything about myself. All my life, I sang in front of an audience. From the time I was four years old, my mother had me up front in church. I didn’t sing a lot in the college years but I started again in choirs after I graduated. I even sang the National Anthem a few times at the ex’s fights. Eventually, I stopped because I began to doubt myself, my talents and my abilities. That happens far too often in abusive relationships. You lose who and what you are. If you stay long enough, you begin to believe you are who he says you are. You aren’t but that’s what you believe. I don’t want any other woman to feel that torture. I don’t want another woman to have her inner woman destroyed.
My passions just happen to run in tandem with my purpose. Each of us are placed on this planet to help someone, somehow. We are given talents and gifts, not to hold on to for selfish gain, but to share with others. It just happens that I am able to help two very vital populations of society – the child who is just starting out on the road in the education process and the woman who may need to be re-educated on who and what she is. That’s what I’m here to do and I will do it, whether it’s by physically standing in front of a classroom, posting to this blog, speaking to groups of women or through my book. My trials and heartache will not be for naught because someone will benefit from my journey.