A "journal entry / reflection" required by the Intern Program; written as the year was closing and the internship reaching its end, around April and May.
What do I want to do next year? There are two sorts of answers to this question. The first sort comes from indulgent daydreams, and the second sort is practical and applicable. Even the indulgent daydream-answers can be useful, though, because the extremities of a spectrum can indicate general trends. If I’m daydreaming, I would like to go to New Hampshire for that Harkness job; I’d like to take the French Embassy’s job teaching English in rural French towns; I’d like to do a National Parks Internship in education out West; I’d like to work in a Boston church for a Director of Children’s Ministries. (In an absolutely alternate universe I’d like to win the Ruth Lilly Fellowship and work part-time, or start the Saint Jacques de Compostèle pilgrimage.)
When I first considered this dream-list, I realized that all (except for the last absurd two) have something to do with teaching. I hadn’t expected this at all! I think even six months ago I would’ve included editorial internships at The New Yorker, graphic design internships at The Metropolitan, and a program in the Colorado foothills on sustainable farming. Apparently even the wishful fringes of my mind are occupied with teaching—but occupied with it in many variations and contexts.
Similarly, my practical answers to the question involve teaching, though in a less varied (and glamorous) set of contexts. I’m looking at full-time and part-time teaching jobs in schools in the area, as well as teaching positions in museums, libraries, and summer programs, and also tutoring positions. I’m most interested in teaching fifth grade and up—in particular, I’m terrified and fascinated by the idea of teaching high school.
I want very much to teach reading, or academic writing, or creative writing (short stories, poetry), or world religions, or ancient history—or even catechism! In fifth grade, whether my lessons turn out well or turn out badly, my mind automatically moves to ask “How might this be different?”, “How else could this work in a different subject, a different class?”, or “Would high school students have responded that way?”. If I could pick anything, it would be reading or creative writing—but really I just want to dive in and START. Or rather, start AGAIN, since this year at the LP has been the beginning of so much for me. I feel like a hidden layer to my life has been opened; so much of what I love and am passionate about is connected to teaching, but I never saw it.
In the last two weeks I’ve also been exploring in interest in enrolling in Harvard Divinity School’s program for a Masters in Theological Studies; their focus in Theological Education might allow for a balance of coursework and field education. This possibility was first presented to me at a breakfast with my mother and a teacher friend of mine. They told me that they both always took it for granted that I’d end up in or near academia in the end, and also both felt (“knew”, they’d say) that I’d be happier as a grad student than as a teacher.
The idea of going back to school at first gave me a panic attack, and then a series of exam-week nightmares , and then a series of very pleasant daydreams (while raking pine needles and folding laundry) involving Christologies, ancient Hebrew, short essays, felt boards, the Bhagavad-Gita, Sunday School classes, Sufism, and children’s songs. I’m still very skeptical of their certainty—they don’t seem to see how much I enjoy myself, in between the crises of confidence, and they don’t seem to see how fulfilling and steadying teaching is for me, compared to being a student. At the same time, I know that I feel an intense pull towards the airy excess of academia, and I’m looking forward to seeing how that will fit in my life.
Postscript: For the moment I've found a balance of waitressing and tutoring, at two establishments of which I am proud to be a part. Who knows how long I will resist the siren call of the nearby ivory towers.
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