I met a lovely kindred spirit last week who invited me for a quick coffee…for two and a half hours.
Our conversation went off in all sorts of directions. We laughed and there were even tears.
We had a real conversation. It was exhilarating and lovely and joyous and deep.
I came home wondering about who I trust to share things with. Isn’t it funny that I say that here? on a public forum that all could read? and maybe one day someone might.
This question is on my mind a lot because of the simple project I have asked my students in the Enriched English Second Language classes. I am asking the kids to share with me who they are. The thing about me as a teacher, is I usually try to do whatever activity I ask my students to do. In this case, I ask them to identify their personality traits. In our list of adjectives, we find these words that befuddle me: creative and shy. The first is not the way I perceive myself and the second is…at least was how I feel like I perceived myself as well as how I was perceived.
I have come to the conclusion this week, and I may change my mind next week, that I am not shy, but reserved. Again I get how silly it sounds considering I write and throw it out on to the World Wide Web and I teach in my other life.
I sense there is a lesson somewhere in there.
I wonder how my perception of myself affects what I choose to do. It must affect it.
I wonder how much someone else’s perception of me affects how I perceive myself.
This situation is a silly one but not a banal one. One’s sense of identity, affects at least in part what they feel capable of. In my case, though I understood by my surroundings that I was shy, it did not stop me from becoming a teacher and now a writer.
Though that characteristic did not seem to stop me in what I wished to get done, the fact that I am asthmatic does. I am not seriously asthmatic but I do automatically think I am not up for certain levels of activities.I have used my asthma, added to my clumsiness, as a certain crutch to excuse my level of activity. I see it and I am not proud.
It makes me ponder, what if my “shyness” and mediocre marks in my mother tongue classes in high-school had discouraged me from writing or becoming a language teacher.
What if my husband’s identity had been so overrun by his medical condition that the crazy man would not have explored the nature he loves so much, or climbed on the roof to make sure it was in good repair? What if he had listened to those around telling him, he shouldn’t work or that his condition defined him?
Thankfully he knew better. His identity was weighted on the side of his ability more than the perceived disability his medical condition should cause.
How can I, as a mother and as a teacher, help the young ones see that part of their identity that has them building their dreams instead of building barriers to their dreams?
Is there something you are particularly proud of that surprised those close to you and even possibly yourself. I would love to hear those stories.