The Question is - Why?

I was asked the simple question 

"Why?" 

And at that very moment, off the top of my head, from the deepest parts of my heart...

....is was my answer.

***

Why do I get so excited about sharing ideas? 

Why do moments with young minds lighten my steps some days and bring me crashing down the next?

I walk into class often forgetting which one of us is the teacher,

Lose myself in a moment, erupt into a fit of giggles and then hiccup as I remember, 

"Ohhh SHOOT! It's me the teacher - calm DOWN Miss Wells! Remember who you are!"

But why does it have to be so different? 

When did everything decide to change?

My eyes are bright, my outfit perfect but that goofy childish grin just won't go away.

The rules may be different and the lessons may feel longer but it's still the same childish me,

Breathing in and out and in and out.

But wait, my chest suddenly hurts. I'm wheezing.

There's too much pressure and there’s too much to do; I can’t breathe~!

I can't - I can't catch my breath.

I start panicking, the pressure is too much. I'm slowly backing up.

I'm not ready for this. I don't want to grow-up, I don't want to be the teacher when I still feel like a student!

Something pushes me harrrd from behind.

WHEN WILL YOU WAKE UP LAUREN? Quit being a BABY! Your time is up! 

Heels are slapped on, a permanent smile tattooed to my face. 

Who’s voice is that?

Even my own voice, is unrecognizable.

Its projection seems too loud, so much louder than I expected.

How did I get here? Why am I standing here?

This isn’t what I order? Who ordered 25 sets of unblinking eyes?

Eyes that do nothing but stare.

Then I see her.

My inner child sits across from me, waving slowly. 

She is saying goodbye.

But I’m not ready to say it back.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIT I scream! 

Those are my thoughts that scream, my mouth is well programmed.

Today's lesson slips from my lips and moves along seamlessly,

Like a dictation I explain the concept, the vocabulary, more terminology; it's delivered perfectly.

But my mind is not calm – far from it.

I try to get in the zone but my brain is overstimulated and that little kid keeps waving at me.

She is waving goodbye or is it hello?

I feel sick.

Why do I always feel so left behind?

Why didn't I get on that train already?

And why is everyone around me so pissed that I keep missing it? 

But YOU already know the answer, right Ms.Wells?

SNAP! 

Back to reality, all eyes on me – how long have I been daydreaming?

The unblinking eyes are back in full force,

And suddenly all four whiteboard walls that enclose me, feel like their getting closer. 

Silence grows and time ticks.

My mind races while I repeat the question that I never heard over and over again,

And then, like magic, Ms. Wells speaks..

"Well of course I know the answer, I know everything~!"

Lips curl, smiles erupt and superficial clouds pop while real laughter rains down on all of us.

My chest feels light again, my nerves are calm, all my anxiety dries up.

Balance returns, my focus is back.

Like a bird that has come back to its nest, it settles in and rediscovers its comfort. 

I really do love my job.

Of course it frightens, daily actually. 

But the challenges force me to face fears I never even knew I had.

I have to deal with myself and all the hidden monsters, the things that I don’t like about myself.

That somehow has gotten so comfy and cozy under my bed. 

Being a teacher is a choice.

I like my choice.

My mind feels free and focused.

Did I actually figure something out?

Do I have a hidden talent?

A best kept secret?

What makes me think so differently?

Why do they keep coming back for more?

I'm not sure but when I find out, I’m not telling!

Bah – hahahhah! 

Why live life if you can't learn something new?

Why learn something new if you can't share it with someone else?

My life is now in the classroom.

In the front, at the back, near the windows, sitting at desks, kneeling on floors, standing on chairs.

These are my new yoga moves, my new positions in life. 

My eyes have stayed bright and true,

Remembering to take two spoonful’s of honesty daily,

Served with a big, thick, slice of humble pie.

That helps me stay strong.

And also helps me stay real.

Being real inspires. 

Students read my thoughts as they sit on my face.

But when harsh words need to be said,

Eyes don’t like – my eyes never stop caring.

Why hasn't he ever put his hand up before?

Why does he suddenly believe that he can be brave?

My eyes tear up.

I cough. 

No, choke on hope.

A hope that comes so un-expectantly from the back, a student who never participates.

Is that really his hand?

The hands that never stray from his pockets, now wave gracefully above his head.

Why am I shaking?

When did these goose bumps appear?

The hand is still up, but my voice is lost.

I have gone mute.

Thank goodness my mouth is programmed.

"Yes, Omar? Did you have something you wanted to add?"

Silence.

I can’t stand still but want this moment to last forever.

His eyes meet mine and I can barely hold back a smile.

And so, he speaks...

A little bit about the author?

She is a lovely (but crazy-creative) teacher who 

sometimes forgets where or who she is in the classroom!

(Pssst - she doesn't often write well and well, shouldn't really

be calling herself a writer!!!)

So...yeah.