A Call of Heart
The last thing I ever wanted to do was be a teacher. Sure, as a little girl I lined up my dolls and handed out homemade worksheets for them to do, but once I reached middle school my dreams grew much larger.

At first I wanted to be a lawyer, I loved to study government and I’d certainly had enough practice arguing with my mother. I would be a rich, arguing lawyer. Then, after I got my first B in civics and all of my arguments ended with me in tears, I realized a new career path was in order.

Suddenly, my heart was set on becoming a nurse. I was so excited about my uniforms being scrubs! I knew that I could care for all the little children and comfort any aches. That dream was deferred when my little sister scrapped her knee and I fainted while bandaging it.

Mission work was my next calling. I would live in Africa and feed all the poor, hungry, starving souls. I had finally found my true calling. Then, fully embracing my opportunity to fulfill these dreams, I spent a summer in Ecuador. I had a wonderful time, but came home heartbroken. I was crushed and longed to go back to the people of Ecuador. I decided that mission work was just too hard of a job for my emotions to handle.

In the midst of shifting my future plans, my current part time job was also changing. A close friend told me of a preschool that was hiring. I had babysat for several years, and I could rock babies until my arms fell off, so I figured this job would be the perfect fit for me. The day I got the job I was placed in a room of two year olds. I ended up being the only one remotely sleepy at nap time.

After sleeping extremely well that night I went back for my second day, uncertain of what to expect. I was put on the preschool hall in the kindergarten class. Their ability to use the bathroom on their own was like precious gold to me. Don’t get me wrong, they were still very needy and whined too much, but my heart was passionately stolen by these children.

In the beginning I was clueless as to what I should do with thirteen kindergarteners. I could play rock, paper, scissors and fix hair bows all day long, but what could I do to entertain them? We ended up reading lots of books and coloring many coloring sheets those first few weeks. I soon discovered the plentiful amount of games and crafts online. My kids were ecstatic to see their handprints make turkeys and their old toilet paper rolls make angels.

But crafts can only go so far. At the end of the day parents weren’t very excited to see their little angels with glitter in their hair. I did a little research and visited the local parent-teacher store on several occasions. I began to learn the baby steps in phonics again myself so that I could teach the children. The results of my work astounded me. I was in awe as they began to piece words together.

Teaching is something I was always encouraged not to do. My parents have always wanted me to follow my dreams, but also wanted me to pursue other majors with larger paychecks. But teaching is a job that combines all parts of me. It’s not my profession, but my calling. I was a pro at solving all arguments about who took who’s toy. I bandaged scrapes and kissed warm cheeks. I reached out to all of my children personally. After being called to such an extraordinary career, I can not imagine myself doing anything else. Now, it is my turn to change the future minds of America. A call of the heart; a call to keep.
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