Another semester has come to an end.
After today's final exam review, all that will be left to do is grade papers and calculate final grades.
And now I've been teaching college for three full years.
That's crazy to me.
I feel proud of myself.
I've come a long way in my abilities as a professor.
I sometimes think back to the very first class I taught. It feels so long ago. I had no idea what I was doing then and am grateful I had a patient group of students to work with. Those poor students.
It's different now.
I feel confident and comfortable when I'm teaching.
I'm good at it.
It's empowering to know that you've worked hard to become good at something.
At the same time, I'm still learning. Which I also love.
There will always be interactions with students that cause me to stretch and, at times, learn from my mistakes. Such experiences can be tricky but, ultimately, beneficial in helping me progress as both a professional and as a human.
I was thinking last night about how interesting it is that the people who are closest to me, such as my family, have never seen me teach. They've never seen me in that important element of my life. They've never seen the skills I've acquired to be an effective professor. Only my students- strangers, in comparison- know this side of me. And sometimes that makes me feel like my family doesn't really know who I am- at least all of who I am.
Strange how the people who you think know you the best of all, actually don't in some very important ways.
Not a good thing, or a bad thing.
Just surprising, I suppose.
It's like this little secret about Sam that I keep and share with strangers.
Well, time for class.