head full of stories. heart full of magic

So I know I am meant to teach.

If I break it down, what I am really meant to do, (and by meant I mean plucked from the ethers, the stars, my past life, or deep from the core of the earth), is to learn and share. Rinse and repeat.

This comes from a place of ego, I am sure. LOOK! LOOK what I have learned! You must know about this too! Come! I must share this with you so your life will also change and you will have the same experience as me because it is all about me.

Ha. That was actually way more fun to write than I thought it might be.

But of course there is a genuine part of me that truly just loves to learn, loves to share, and more deeply, loves to help. In any fashion. Be it this lil’ ‘ole blog, my art that I need to do more of, (insert internal wink, wink, nudge, nudge), in my private practice, the yoga classes I teach, or in every day conversations with my friends and family.

But what makes a GOOD teacher?

As I step into the role of assisting in my very first teacher training, I have been thinking a lot about my role as teacher and those pertinent people in my life whose lessons, presence, and all around magic have stayed with me to this day. I could go on at length here, but for the sake of being succinct, I will stick to general education/college folk. (All you mental health mentors and yoga/ayurveda teachers, what you taught me could fill a book, so…someday)

Walking backwards, the first one that I can think of is my research professor in Grad school…and I cannot remember her name for the life of me…Felix something or other. Well, Felix, I went into Grad School with a firm grasp on what I wanted to do- work with teens in the mental health arena and NOT anything related to research. As luck would have it, you taught us research and not only did you teach it well, you saw that it came natural to me. Because of this natural leaning, I didn’t really give it the time of day- “Oh, this is easy…this bores me.” Although I never “did anything” as a researcher in my career, (thus far), I still remember you pulling me aside to acknowledge that you saw that I had a knack for this and that I absolutely should consider pursuing it as a result. You both challenged me and shifted my perspective and interestingly enough, as I continue to grow, I find myself more and more drawn to research. You saw something in me that I didn’t even know existed. YOU SAW ME.

Secondly, I can think of 3 professors in my undergrad school that have made a lasting impression.

First was Campbell Leaper. Wow, I remembered his whole name! You taught a class called the Social Psychology of Sex and Gender and I was fucking fascinated. Partially, by the subject matter, and similarly, that you were in fact the first male feminist I had ever had the pleasure of meeting and I was both confused and amazed. YOU SURPRISED ME AND CHALLENGED MY STEREOTYPES.

Then there was Peter who taught us how to really read and break down theatrical literature. We got deep with Peter. We broke down and analyzed plays like I never had before. You were warm, kind, and gentle, but so firm in your passion and knowledge for theatre. YOU AWAKENED ME.

And last but not least, to round out my undergrad career is unknown-woman-theatre-teacher. You were weird. SO WEIRD. You had us go see your play as part of our class curriculum and it was very sexual and powerful. IN fact, your whole class, all your nuances and the applications of theatre, were taught with heaping dollops of sexuality and power. YOU BROUGHT ME OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE.

In High School, there were 3.

First up is Blaze Newman. I am pretty sure she changed her name to Blaze. You were on fire. Not only did you challenge me, but for the first time in a long time, I felt very intelligent in a class. YOU GAVE ME CONFIDENCE.

Then there was my favorite and most impressionable teacher, Ms Blizz. Holy shit, man. You helped me fall in love with writing again and poetry in particular. You created the most safe and welcoming environment for every genre of student and I feel truly lucky to have had a class be so vulnerable together with such a diverse group of teens. YOU GAVE ME VULNERABLE INCLUSIVE POWER.

And lastly, there was Boyd. You were also very weird. You wore long, khaki shorts and calf-high socks. You would often leave the room during tests and we all would cheat. You also told me several times that you dearly hoped that your daughter would grow up to be like me, but it was not in an endearing, teacherly kind of way. YOU REMINDED ME TO LISTEN TO MY GUT.

It is blatantly obvious that for the most part, I have been blessed to have had a solid education and creative, passionate teachers. My parents, (namely my Pops), took our education very seriously, always seeking out something a bit different and on the creative-artsy side, often making the sacrifice, even if it was several towns away. The global education program at my elementary school was literally everything I wanted in a school- challenging, creative, hands-on, experiential, not heavy on the grades, and heavy on the awesome hands-on experiences like digging up fossils in the back of our school that were carefully placed by my teacher, and field trips- we did a road trip that passed through a ghost town, a salt mine, and ended up sleeping in covered wagons on the Oregon Trail, only to have to leave in the middle of the night because a giant storm was approaching and the smell of imminent death was in the air via the desert and flash flooding. Flash forward to a grimy motel full of wet, rowdy pre-teens, and Damn, I wish I was your lover playing on repeat in my head. Oh…pre-teen angst, how I can taste thee.

So, Jackie, and my other lovely teacher that I cannot remember your awesome name, (Jennifer?), YOU SHOWED ME THAT LEARNING IS FULL OF LIGHT, CREATIVITY, AND MAGIC.

For my last teacher, I was in the second grade and had just moved to Maui. Again, kudos to you, Pops, as this one was something special. And again, I cannot remember your name for the life of me, because, well, 38. But I do know you taught us head, shoulders, knees, and toes in French, which I still remember to this day. Something else I still have are my journals. Pages and pages of writing. The first of its kind for me. With a head full of stories and a heart filled with magic, I now had a place to put it all. I felt both inspired and at home. YOU INTRODUCED ME TO ONE OF MY FIRST LOVES.

From the bottom of my bottom, I thank you all. It is both cliche and true that I would not be where I am without you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.