MED 6020

October 29, 2017

A New Path

The tracks of the frontrunner whistled and screeched as I sat looking out at the passing

scenery. My thoughts wandered. I loved teaching dance but felt like I needed something

more. A way to reach others; something meaningful. My husband knew how I felt. His mother

happened to be a second-grade teacher and we had talked about the possibility of teaching.

Another degree though? Did I want to get more schooling? I wasn’t sure. But I went forward

with the next step to see how I felt.

I flipped the page of the Praxis review book. How do you find the perimeter of a

rectangle? My phone rang. Yawning, I casually answered it. It was my mother-in-law. Excitedly,

she started to tell me about a program where I could become a teacher and get my schooling for

free. “For free?” I asked incredulously. She went on to describe a few more things. “When does

it start?” I asked. “Wednesday,” was her reply. My stomach dropped. This week? Was I ready to

commit to being a teacher. A few more hurried details, and I was left with my thoughts. I had to

admit it was a bit uncanny how my mother-in-law called the office the day before the dead line,

how the lady in charge of the program talked to my mother-in-law on her last day of work before

retiring, and how I already had my Praxis test day set. Were the stars lining up for me?

The train drew closer to home. I closed my eyes. I pictured myself in front of a class. I

pictured the teachers I had. My thoughts drifted to my favorite teacher, Mrs. Killian. Third grade;

a new student. She made me feel so welcomed. What was it she said that very first day? Be

brave. Was this my chance to find my place? Could teaching be my way to reach others in a
meaningful way? It felt right. The hum of the train lulled my eyes shut. The train drew closer to

Layton but mind wandered back in time…

I remember sitting in the hallway, my brother crying. The only boy he knew since

moving to Boise, Idaho was not going to be in his class. “Don’t worry. Mrs. Bowlden is the most

amazing teacher, you will love her.” The school secretary said, attempting to stop Nate’s tears

streaming down his face. For some reason, I wasn’t crying. I was numb. I had left Minnesota and

my perfect world. A whole circle of friends, a dog, my room, a pond across the street. Why did

we have to move? I didn’t want to be here.

My brother was taken to his classroom, his eyes still red but his chin a little higher. If my

older brother could do it, I could. My mom’s hand was suddenly gone and I was being steered

toward the third-grade hall. “Mrs. Killian” is what I think I heard the secretary say was my

teacher’s name was. The halls twisted and turned and with each step my heart beat grew louder

in my ears. She stopped in front of a blue door and then it opened.

A rush of faces. Swarmed. Surrounded. So many new faces. Scott, Vanae, Russell…they

said their names as they pushed me toward the center of the classroom. “Here! Show her our

class rat!” “I don’t like rats, please don’t make me touch it,” I thought timidly. The next thing I

knew a furry friend was nibbling at my paws. Finally, my teacher found her way to the startled

new student and the commotion dispersed. I looked up and saw a young, smiling teacher with

dark brown hair. Mrs. Killian, my new teacher.

Mrs. Killian showed me to my seat and told me how happy she was that I was there. I

couldn’t help it; I smiled back at her. Mrs. Killian settled down the classroom as my anxiousness

turned to curiosity. I wondered why everyone was so excited for me to be here? Did that mean

they liked me?

 The bell rang and I floated through my first day without any tears. Mrs. Killian pulled me

aside before I left and told me how brave I was that day. I beamed. More kind words and

encouragement and before saying goodbye she said again, “keep being brave.”

I opened my eyes and looked at the mountains passing by. Mrs. Killian had made my

transition to a new school so effortless. She made me feel so safe and valued. I couldn’t help but

think of teacher after teacher who had made an impact in my life. Mrs. Bowlden, Mrs. Frasier,

Mrs. Bott, Mrs. Ansotegi… the list went on all the way from elementary to college. What an

amazing profession to be able to teach and touch so many different people’s lives. I stepped off

the frontrunner and walked to my car. I had the chance to become like my teachers I looked up

to so much, to make an impression, to show kindness to those who needed it. I smiled.

Somehow, everything fell into place. As I started my classes, my eyes were opened to the

world of education. My husband saw my growing excitement to be in the classroom. “It just

seems like where you are supposed to be,” he would say. And then it happened. First grade, the

principal offered me a position. Excitement, fear, worry… but I knew it was where I was

supposed to be. A new door had opened; everything felt like it was leading me here. I never

knew I would be an elementary teacher but I couldn’t have been more ready to enter this new

chapter. I would be Mrs. Beutler, a young teacher with dark hair and a smiling face.