Warning: Total angst post ahead. If you don't want to read about depressing things, just skip it.
There's something terribly, terribly wrong with me. I know it. Everyone knows it. Even complete strangers who just met me know it. Blame it on society. Blame it on disease, distortion, or demotivation. Hell, if you want you can blame it on my mum.
I refuse to put blame on anything or anyone else anymore. It's all my fault.
I have been stubborn and very decidedly untrue to myself. I have also been a terrible coward. Inside my head is the voice of self-doubt and the fear of rejection and failure.
I chose teaching as a profession at first when I considered it, because I had no other idea what to do. It was clear at the time that I had to choose something that would offer a stable and profitable job with a kind of income that my parents were expecting, and that wouldn't rely on my fading mental capacities.
I was terrible at school despite my marks and despite what talents people attributed to me. I was raised with very high expectations and the fear of disappointment of everyone around me. I underestimated myself when things were moving faster and work was harder, and thus I find myself today completely lost.
Don't get me wrong; I'm saying that it's neither easy nor hard to get a degree in science, nor to pass all the field experiences in a high school. I literally failed my way through university. I worked half-assed through my math courses, walking away with absolutely nothing retained. I struggled painfully through physics courses like walking on glass shards.
But the most painful of all was the field experiences. Going to education classes is a joke, really. I mean, how else could I have passed them all? But the field experiences is the biggest test of all the choices that led me up to those moments.
We were told as froshies by our professors that the field experiences would determine if they think we belonged here. Some people decide they don't want to do it, after a year or two. Some people withdraw at the last possible minute. We know that it's not about the money nor about the security. It's about the profession; what job isn't about the profession, in the ideal world?
My story is that I chose very wrongly. I picked the teaching subjects that I thought would be easiest for me to pass through. I also picked the crazy new program because people said it was a challenge: no one had graduated through it yet, and it's rather tough. My response was more or less "Bring it on!... sorta."
So I had it coming to me. I did not choose physics and math as first choice. I had wanted biology. But after making the decision the first time around, and finding out the option was open, I didn't withdraw. Why? Because I was a stinking, stubborn moron. This led me to the most painful and academically disappointing five years at McGill.
And yet on hindsight, I don't regret my choice. My regret is deeper and more complicated. On the surface, the regret is not picking the courses in a correct fashion that would have led me to finishing my degrees in 4 years. If you know what happend a bit more than a year ago, you may begin to see my even deeper regrets.
About the field experiences: the first year was a bit of a joke. I did almost nothing in those scant dull hours of watching a classroom. The second year, I was due for my first grand shock. Students were very uncooperative with me, and I still have no idea how to correct that on hindsight. I think part of it comes from my own indecisiveness.
But I wanted to believe differently. Teachers are not made of the same mold, and it's obvious that no one style would work for everyone. People were generally friendly and their critiques were accepted. But I had no inkling as to how to implement these criticisms.
Instead of being so lost in my own world, I should have gone out to meet with people who could help me in this task. A number of resources come to mind; professors, teachers whom I worked with or had contact with, and the community. Montreal is a great city to work in, if you know your contacts.
At the end of the whole ordeal, I felt like I hadn't gained any insight nor training. This could have been avoided if I had not been so disillusioned with myself. It is indeed my own fault.
So I left Montreal behind because I destroyed my own goals and my sense of belonging in the field. But I came home for the reasons I had stated before, namely because it was what my family and relatives wanted me to do... except my mum of course.
Now I have spent two months unemployed, and 6 months completely useless. (Not counting the 5 years I wasted away at McGill, and the whole 24 years being a general nuisance to my family.) It is bad enough that I feel completely depressed and insecure without my mum constantly pointing out how completely wrong I am for the teaching field. I feel like no one has given me the chance to prove myself, even though I went through university and finished. So in the end, I feel like I was spoiled and undeserving of any new attention.
Being as undecided and introspective as I am, I don't know what to do. I don't understand what is wrong with me, other than I am extremely depressed. I have no academic or career expectations for the future, seeing as how I messed up my last five years (and if you went to McGill you'd know what I'm talking about). If you read up to now, I congratulate you on your genuine care and dedication to me and my depressive ramblings. Let's have a giant group hug, taytay.
