One month before my undergraduate convocation, my cohort colleagues and I attended a Celebration of Learning Gala event- hosted by our college in our honor- to showcase our four years of learning. The theme of the night was based on the end of William Shakespeare’s The Tempest: “Our revels now are ended…” (4. 1. 148).
Why? What revel has ended?
My name is Alexandra, and this story begins when I first encountered my colleagues two years ago, at a professional development event called One Word. Every attendee had to choose one word to describe not only their goal in education, but also their journey in education. My word was “Inspire.”
At that point though, I didn’t know what inspiration truly meant.
Etymologically, to inspire means to “breathe life into” (Oxford English Dictionary). Colloquially, we use the word “inspire” to discuss a powerful presentation, conference, or professor. But what does it really mean to breathe life into someone through something?
Inspiration is intrinsically tied to passion, and to the why you do something. So, in order to explore my inspiration, I first have to identify my why.
We are the sum of our experiences. Shaped by our pasts, each person is the cumulation of memories… a tapestry of moments. Education has been a keystone of my past, and therefore part of my identity, since I was 3-years-old. And I love it. I love that look in a student’s eye when they believed they couldn’t, and you have a role in showing them that they can. I love that hush that falls over a classroom at the start of a term, everyone- including the teacher- apprehensive and excited and afraid and conflicted over what the term will bring. I love that anxiety over how to react when faced with a new challenge… a student who just doesn’t want to learn, a teacher who just doesn’t want to fail. I love the smell of fresh ink and old paper, the sound of laughter in the corridor, and the taste of hot coffee before class.
This past year, throughout the course of my practicum experience in Catholic secondary schools, my identity shifted and quickly went from ‘Alex,’ to being ‘Ms. G.’
Alex I know. A devoted student, Alex listens, observes, contemplates, and debates. Alex forms beliefs through her love and passion for literature and study. But, Ms. G? 13-year-old students asking Ms. G for permission to use the washroom? I don’t know her.
I do know that both names, both markers of identity, are facets of me, and therefore, both are motivated by my why.
My colleagues and I have spent a lot of time together discussing our passions, fears, drives, and motivations. We’ve talked a lot about what we as students, and future educators, want to discover. Discovery is defined as “the action of bringing to light something which was previously unknown” (Oxford English Dictionary), and it is another one of those words that we use without thinking about its meaning.
Through my studies, I have discovered that I am an advocate of contemporary educator Thomas Groom. Groom suggests that the purpose of education is to provide “life for all,” to form learners by informing, and in so doing, transform their lives. Education is therefore a journey that allows us the opportunity to learn more about ourselves, each other, and our places in this world. For as educator Sir Ken Robinson states, learning has to power to transform lives through widening horizons, creating connections, and building relationships. This is at the root of my vocation.
So, if I were to attend that one word event today, two years after intensely exploring, studying, and discovering nuances of twenty-first century pedagogy, I would choose a different word… a less ambiguous word. I wouldn’t say my mission is to inspire. I would say that my mission is to form.
This discovery of my mission has been our journey for the last four years. This is the revel that has ended, for us, here and now. However, our life journeys, the shapes of our vocations? Well, now is just the beginning.
Ms. Glinsbockel's Odyssey 