Yesterday in Brit Lit, I was talking to my friend, about assignments and deadlines and future deadlines and classes we’re looking at for the Fall, and he mentioned that he was applying for a teaching assistantship. Which is awesome. He asked me if I was going to and I said Oh Noooo nonononono…Why?
He just pish paww’d that answer and started rambling off the things needed to apply. The deadline is tonight.
So, I went to work, and decided to back out of a pizza party in Norman, and came home to begin filling out all of the information. With each section of information that I filled out, I thought, I don’t have a c.v, I haven’t done anything worthwhile in the community, a cover letter, I don’t have that either. . .
I then deleted it.
The thought of teaching, and the workload that goes along with that, (sweet crap, what if I don’t remember the proper use of colons and don’t count off on a paper? I’m no better than the jackals that I took Comp 1 from) the hours teaching, combined with the full time 9 hours of coursework of my own, combined with my salon work…
I deleted it and hid on the couch under the fuzzy blankie so nothing could see me.
The Voices found me.
“you want to TEACH and you’re SCARED to even APPLY???”
“you don’t do anything well now, you want to add another job?”
“a job that you’re not even sure you’re qualified to do???”
“what the hell do you know about teaching freshman composition?”
“you don’t have the wardrobe to teach. that’s going to be expensive.”
They were hateful fucking voices, bitch slapping me around no matter how far under the blankie I hid. No escape. None.
And then I went over and talked to some of my friends on FB, and like a fire hydrant on a street corner in August that’s been opened…support. Support came flooding out of my computer, and there I was, soaking wet, saturated to the bone with encouragement.
Oh please kick that bully out. Mine is a real beatch but if I want to survive my situation and still be the best I can be, she has to go, hence the therapy. KICK HER OUT! Be the best you can be. Go on. You can only fail.
you’ll know when you’re ready. Don’t beat yourself up over it.
Sleeping on it was smart. Either choice is perfectly valid. Whenever you decide to teach remember that you already teach people all the time, how to teach people is not going to be your obstacle. How not to kick them in the taco when they’re stupid? Well, we all struggle with that.
1. (redacted) teaches comp at OU, and you’re totally more talented than he is (I’ve read his writing, and I’ve read yours, and that’s a seriously objective opinion, because I still want to (redacted), but I don’t want to read any more of his writing, and you don’t (redacted), but I want to read all your shit).
2. With your theatre background, teaching is a breeze. Seriously. I did that shit for three years, on top of 9 hours of grad school every semester, plus 20 hours of research team shit, plus a social life (on weekends only). It can be done! It’s a fucking killer, but it can be done!
3. Mr. Miyagi says, “Is okay lose to opponent! Must not lose to fear!”
and the final one:
I slept for naught last night. My lower back and hips were for some reason cramping up and throbbing and by the time I took a muscle relaxer, it was 3am. Which meant that I finally slept but my getting up early didn’t happen.
I feel like I fight my demons in my sleep. I do. I’m fighting my fear, fighting my insecurities, fighting The Voices. I toss and turn and dream about my relatives no longer alive. Lately I’ve been dreaming that I go to prison. Usually Ashton Kutcher makes an appearance. I’m as busy at night as I am during the day and while I woke up feeling hungover and immediately began to check off my list the things I wouldn’t get finished before class today…
I also had a sense of peace.
a sense of certainty.
This day is MINE. I fought for it fair and square (or not) last night. And I won. I’m going to get to class, I’m going to get to work and do my clients, I’m going to freshen up my look as well. I’m going to have Audrey and Sean over tonight to help me work on my audition on Saturday, and work on my clothing choices.
And I’m going to finish gathering the information needed, and send in my application for a teaching assistantship.
Many moons ago, when I was a wife, I had…HAD a graduate assistantship to Old Miss. In theatre. I HAD it.
But I gave in to fear, and acquiesced to my then husband, and that dream went away.
I’ll be damned, damned right into a hell full of bad country songs and CeLo Green’s midget arms, if I do it again.