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A toast to the childhood dream that made me a teacher

A toast to the childhood dream that made me a teacher

In sharing what we know with others, we learn more about ourselves.

When the self-doubt began whispering, I reminded myself I’d done this kind of work before. I loved doing it, and I knew I was good at it.

It’s our lunch break. I sit on the pool deck at the conference venue, listening to the waves tumbling onto the shore, as I clear my mind for the afternoon session. I love teaching this group of delegates on a sunny day in Cape Town.

I’ve always pictured myself as a teacher. As an eight-year-old, I would cut out pictures from colouring books and teach English vocabulary to my French-speaking grand-mère.

I have taught in some form or other for many years. This all changed when I fell pregnant with my son.

As his life strengthened and grew within me, much of my outward-facing energy disappeared. All I wanted to do was cocoon.

And in the first 10 years of his life, I focused on being a mother and keeping my small business going.

But a year ago, tired of seeing more of our tween son’s closed bedroom door than his face, and with my small business going through a dip, I felt the need to teach again.

It had been two decades since I’d last been in a prefab classroom. I felt no desire to be in a classroom full of teens, but I did feel warm and energised at the idea of training adults.

I took this sense of an opening, an inner yes, as a good sign. It was in direct contrast to the drained feeling I got when I visualised myself in a high school classroom.

I began to put out feelers. I contacted old colleagues and associates, sent out my updated CV, and knocked on doors.

When the self-doubt began whispering, I reminded myself I’d done this kind of work before. I knew what it felt like, I knew I loved doing it, and I knew I was good at it.

For weeks, no doors opened, no new pathways beckoned. That snide voice in my head began to whisper no again: “You can’t do it, you don’t have enough knowledge, you’re overstepping yourself.”

I kept tuning in to the quiet yes I could feel inside. I kept believing in the ‘What if?’. What if it all worked out? What if I found myself standing in a conference room with a group of people facing me expectantly?

One morning as I was journaling, I remembered a dream about an ex-colleague who was now involved in a training company.

I made contact. It turned out they were growing their work and were happy to use me as a freelance trainer.

A year later, I find myself running regular training for corporate clients, learning from diverse participants, in varied industries, and growing as a facilitator.

Before heading back into the training room, I turn my face to the sun, take a sip of apple juice, and tilt the glass to the sky, to the sea. It’s my own quiet celebration of finding my way to yes.

Cathy Park Kelly

Cathy Park Kelly is the author of “Boiling A Frog Slowly, a Memoir of Love Gone Wrong”, published by Karavan Press.

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