100 Words

One hundred words. It isn't enough. How do you convey your story in so little space? How do you even begin? I’ve always been told: introduction, three body paragraphs, conclusion. That normally makes me think of a major event. A major event requires many words, many more than one hundred. How do I stop mid thought? Can I think of such a short story, I’m not sure I could? Something that isn’t major, what could that be, something I can write about in one hundred words, I don’t know. I’m  having a hard time making this post one hundred words.

Narrative

     I'm in a class currently called advanced composition for teachers, ENG 303. As part of the class, we have three papers to write. We just finished our first one, the narrative. We've been required to post it on our blogs, so if you choose to read it, the full thing will be posted below.

Unconventional Teacher

When many people think of elementary school teachers, they think of bubbly, happy, kind women. Though I am kind, I am by no means bubbly and sometimes I'm not even happy. I suffer from major depressive disorder, OCD, and crippling anxiety. There are days that I wonder if I am cut out for this. I have always wanted to badly to become a teacher, but my goal was high school students with mental disabilities; in Kentucky there is not a school where you can major in this so I started my journey as a special education: learning and behavioral disorders major.  Elementary school students with no disability is a whole different world.

At this point, you may be wondering why I'm attending school to become an elementary school teacher if it isn't what I want or what I started school majoring in. Well the answer is that I was forced to change my major. Before this year, when I would get too depressed or stressed I would shut down. I wouldn't leave my room for the most part and I would sleep my life away. Because of this, I failed two classes, one class two times and the other three. These classes are required in the major I was in. Despite my depression, I wasn't allowed to retake these courses. Without them however, I couldn't complete my degree, even though I was just two semesters away from graduation. The only way I could continue on the path to getting any teaching degree, continuing on the path to reach my dream, was to change to elementary education.

            I know that makes it seem like the people here at EKU aren’t sympathetic to mental diseases. This however, is not the case. There is an office for students with disabilities that any student with the need can register with. I had never been sent there before. Before last year, I didn’t even know that my depression, anxiety, and OCD were considered a disability. I knew it was a problem in my own life, but I never considered that it could be the reason that I struggled with school. I just assumed I was having another depressive episode.

            I discovered my depression was a disability the day that I was kicked out of my program. I knew that failing was a problem, but I wasn’t aware I would be kicked out for it. My GPA has always been relatively good. I was never on academic probation. I was told I needed to set up a meeting with Dr. Maloley, she was taking over for the man who had been promoted to interim dean. The day of the meeting I showed up wearing and EKU shirt to show I was dedicated to continuing my education at this university. I waited for her to get off the phone and she called me in. When I sat down my heart started pounding and I got really nervous. Dr. Maloley was not smiling and she did not seem to be very welcoming. I sat across from her and had to listen to her tell me my dream was over. She told me I should’ve known this was coming. That it didn’t matter that I had the depression, I wasn’t registered with the office for students with disabilities. She told me I couldn’t continue in my program. The worst things she said to me, she told me I should consider not even becoming a teacher, and she said “put your big girl panties on and tell your parents.”

            I left that meeting hysterical. I thought I would be reprimanded, or put on probation. I thought maybe I’d be put on academic suspension as a worst case scenario. This wasn’t what happened however, and I no longer knew what to do. My dream of becoming a special educator was over. Was it even worth it to continue with school? Was Dr. Maloley right, should I find a different profession? Would it be easier to just give up, drop out, and work manual labor the rest of my life?

            I had to go to work right after this meeting, on my way I called my mom and told her what happened. She was heartbroken for me. She didn’t know what to do to help me or if she could do anything for that matter. She told me to talk to my aunt. My aunt Karen failed out of college her first try. I had always been told it was because she was a party girl the first go ‘round. I was wrong. She failed because of depression, just like I was doing now. I’m so thankful she told me the truth and trusted me with that secret. Because she understood my situation, Karen went on the defensive for me. We sent in papers saying she could see my records and the staff at EKU could talk to her and we set up another meeting with Dr. Maloley.

            When Karen came to Richmond, Dr. Maloley’s tone completely changed. She was kind and was attempting to be what I knew she thought was helpful. Karen convinced her I wasn’t going to completely change my major. She knew I loved teaching and she knew I wouldn’t be happy if I graduated without my degree to teach some level of school. She fought for me, but even she couldn’t help. Dr. Maloley convinced us to not go to the dean, telling us it wouldn’t change anything, he would just say exactly what she did. I had to decide what to do after this.

            Karen and I took a break and went to get lunch. The way she saw it I had three choices, take a semester off, try to go higher than the dean of the college of education, or change my major to elementary education and figure it out from there. I was so stunned from the meeting I still did not know what I wanted to do. I remember Karen asking me what I wanted to do, and I answered, “I want to die.”

            Karen calmed me down and comforted me. As we sat in Panera, me not eating because I was too upset to eat, she started talking with me about my situation. “Dying is not going to happen, it isn’t even an option. We can figure this out. Just think about what you want to do it will be okay.” She said. It did not feel like it would be okay. There was a weight on my chest and I wasn’t sure if it would ever be lifted.

            I decided I wanted to stay in school, I was afraid if I took a semester off, I wouldn’t come back, and I knew if I left school I would always regret it. After lunch, Karen and I drove to the library and researched as much as we could about my options. I chose to change my major to elementary education. I was three days away from the start of the next semester and I now had no idea what classes I would be taking. We set up a meeting with someone in the college of education and got my major officially changed. The man we saw was completely different from Dr. Maloley. He was kind to me, welcoming, understanding, and even tried to find a way to help me stay in the program- to no avail.

            At the end of the day I had a new major, new classes, and I knew what I had to do. After my first day of classes, I went to the office for students with disabilities. They told me I couldn’t be registered without a referral from a psychologist. Right after this I went to the student counseling center and set up an appointment there.

            Though I had set the process in motion, I felt like I was getting nowhere and my depression didn’t magically disappear. I tried to remember a time I wasn’t depressed. It had been so long. I wasn’t always like this. My depression appeared in 8^th grade and reared its ugly head my freshman year of high school. I had hurt myself, I was suicidal, I had no friends. But I made it past that. I went to therapy, I got diagnosed, I started and stayed on medicine since. Why was this happening to me again, now, so many years later?

            Weeks later I finally got into therapy. I met with a nice woman. She listened to me, she gave me tips, and she referred me to the psychologist on call. The psychologist is only on campus on Tuesdays, I had to wait a week to get in to see him. I was incredibly nervous when I finally went to his office. Would he tell me I was crazy? Would he change my medicine? Would he tell me I’m being an idiot and take me off medicine? A thousand thoughts went through my head as he asked me questions about myself. He turned out to be a really great guy. He changed the dose of my medication, assured me he would do everything he could to help me, and encouraged me to continue my process of healing.

            After I saw the psychiatrist, my therapist sent me to group therapy-the long term therapy solution at EKU. Group therapy became my safe haven. This is really where I made a lot of breakthroughs. I realized my depression wasn’t something I had to go through alone. Other people were going through similar situations as me. Most importantly I realized I hated myself. It may seem weird that I that is what was most important, but it was necessary. Once I realized that, once I hit that rock bottom, I knew things could only go up from there.

            It has been only 5 months since this happened. So much and so little has changed. I’m still in group therapy and I still see the psychologist about every other month. My medicine is still changing, he’s added another depression medicine and put me on sleeping medication as well. I’m not cured. I have my good days and I have my bad days. I still struggle to stay focused on my goal sometimes and other times I’m more motivated than ever. Mental illness is a constant struggle that I’m going to have to live with the rest of my life. The ultimate goal is to get all of my symptoms in control enough so that my life won’t be impacted as much. I have a long journey ahead of me.

            I know that continuing school and teaching is going to be a struggle with me. I’ve learned how to act like I’m a bubbly person in front of students. I’ve learned to seek help when I’m feeling down. I still have a hard time telling some of my education professors and keeping up with all of the work I have to do. There are days I’d like to stay in bed, but I know I can’t. I have to persevere through my illness and live my life. I have to accomplish my dreams somehow. I know that I have to seek help from others if I start going back down the rabbit hole instead of ignoring the problem like I did before.

I’m not going to be the conventional elementary teacher. I have a severe form of mental illness and that won’t ever change, but what I’ve gone through and my understanding of mental illness may make me a better teacher. I could possibly reach more children because of it, relate to the children who are going through the same experiences I was. I’m never going to be perfect, and maybe that’s okay. I’m an unconventional teacher and that I’ve come to learn, is okay with me.

Literary Event

     Most people remember a significant event in their life that changed them. In this case we're talking about a literary event. I don't. I remember liking teachers in school. I remember different teachers who I connected with, but I don't remember any English teachers who affected me.
     English has never been my strong suit. I've always been good with the reading part. I can comprehend what I've read, and I read a lot. It's the writing part that I struggle with. Even when I think I'm getting the hang of it, I have yet another teacher tell me I'm doing something wrong. It started in fifth grade with commas, I'm still not sure I correctly use them. In middle school I wasn't using enough dialogue. In high school we didn't write a lot, but I didn't have many complaints. When I got to college I thought I had finally gotten the hang of it, but then my ENG 102 professor told me the truth. I had made it to college without even knowing how to write a thesis. Any time I get an assignment to write a paper, I struggle to write it in an academic way.
     I have had professors and teachers tell me they like my writing but when the next one contradicts the previous, I find it hard to believe. Writing is a struggle, but I will continue to work on it until I get my literary event.

Not Your Typical Elementary School Teacher

     When many people think of elementary school teachers, they think of bubbly, happy, kind women. Though I am kind, I am by no means bubbly and sometimes I'm not even happy. There are days that I wonder if I am cut out for this. I have always wanted to badly to become a teacher, but my goal was high school students with mental disabilities. Elementary school students with no disability is a whole different world.
     At this point, you may be wondering why I'm attending school to become an elementary school teacher if it isn't what I want. Well the answer is that I was forced to change my major. I suffer from major depressive disorder, OCD, and crippling anxiety. Before this year, when I would get too depressed or stressed I would shut down. I wouldn't leave my room for the most part and I would sleep my life away. Because of this, I failed two classes, one class two times and the other three. These classes are necessary in the major I was in. Despite my depression, I wasn't allowed to retake these courses. Without them however, I couldn't complete my degree, even though I was just two semesters away from graduation. The only way I could continue on the path to getting any teaching degree was to change to elementary education.
     Changing my degree to a whole different program was a shock. Not only am I dealing with a different set of students, but I've been set back a whole year. Since I was so close to graduating, most of the advisers or other EKU staff who are supposed to help me have no idea what to do with me. It has been a struggle even to get classes scheduled...I'm three weeks into this semester and I'm still not sure if this is my final schedule. I'm in a constant cycle of emails and meetings.
     Even though this has been a hectic change and sometimes I don't know if it is right, especially since I don't fit into the "typical" elementary school teacher mold, I'm continuing with it. I will graduate with my degree in elementary education. I will become an elementary teacher and then get my masters in special education. One day I will get my dream teaching job. How do I know this for sure? I don't. What I do know is that I've acknowledged I have a problem. I'm getting help. I'm becoming a better person and working through my problems to make sure that what happened to me never does again.
     I've become a strong advocate for mental health. Just because something is happening in someone's head, just because other people can't see what is going on inside someone else, doesn't mean it isn't real. Sometimes it can be worse than a sickness you can see. It isn't something to be ashamed of. No one should ever be afraid to tell someone, to get help, to not let it rule your life. I let it rule my life, ruin my life, destroy my dream.
     I have a new dream. I will accomplish it. I will reach my goals and I will do this with no hesitation to ask for help when I need it. I will continue to have a psychiatrist, I will continue group therapy, I will stay on a regimen of medicine and relaxation techniques, and I will always recognize the importance of everyone's mental health.
     Maybe this is how I will be the best elementary teacher I can be. I can be the teacher my students know they can come to for any feelings they are having and I will always help.