Reflective Essay
After graduating with a bachelor’s degree in English in 2009, I decided not to pursue graduate education until I was sure that that was the only path I wanted to take, not because it was “what you do next”. After unsuccessfully pursuing a position in editing and publishing, spending two years in the private education sector, and tutoring an adult English-learner for much of that time, I allowed myself to recognize that teaching writing was where I could do the most good and be the most fulfilled. With enthusiasm, I applied to and was accepted into MSU’s Critical Studies in Literacy and Pedagogy master’s program, with an appointment to teach first-year writing.
From the first day of our instructor orientation in August, I have felt unprepared, under-qualified, and out of my league for both my teaching responsibilities and my coursework, from practical and intellectual standpoints. Never before had I been asked to work or think this hard, never before had I not been the smartest kid in the class. I had never heard of “imposter syndrome” before but I was certainly embodying it. I still feel this way most days, wondering what I accidentally included on my application materials that could have convinced anyone I was capable of completing this endeavor, fantasizing about what I would be doing if I had been accepted into a less demanding program or had chosen an entirely different path.
By conceptualizing this essay, however, I have begun to understand the multi-faceted benefits of these feelings and the decisions I have made.
In not being the smartest kid in the class, I am becoming more open to the startlingly brilliant ideas and varying points of view of my colleagues, my instructors and advisors, and my students. In my most challenging class yet, both in terms of workload and conceptual rigor, AL877 Community Literacy, I am struck every single week by the abilities and compassion that our community brings to our discussions; they simply make me want to think and work better, week in and week out. This is just one example--I have felt challenged, stimulated, and intellectually uncomfortable in all of my courses and in my classrooms. By not having all the answers, I am (slowly) learning to ask questions, to be more comfortable admitting that I just don’t know, and to step outside the arenas in which I feel comfortable, academically, professionally, and personally.
As a scholar, I am only now realizing just how visceral and critical this feeling of not knowing is. If I knew, why would I be here, living on coffee and at the library? If I knew, what would I have left to learn from those around me? I have begun to understand that no one worthy of my admiration thinks they know, no matter how much I might think they know. These scholars and mentors and students don’t let not knowing stop them from learning; they embrace it and convert it into a hunger to know more.
I would like to continue to create my own hunger. As a student scholar, I hope to continue to put the best effort I can into my coursework, gaining from it both the material being offered to me and an understanding of how to exist and thrive in this environment. As a (somewhat unwilling) researcher, I hope to uncover how our students feel, think, and express their thoughts about how they are asked to learn and what they are asked to deliver in their first-year writing experience. As a teacher I hope to foster in my students the confidence to admit when they don’t know something, the value of asking questions, yet also the faith in their own abilities and capabilities and understandings of the worlds that they inhabit. That faith is what allows us to feel comfortable asking questions; I might not have achieved that for myself yet, but I believe that in asking others how I can help them toward that goal, I can continue with my own journey.
I want everyone I encounter to understand that while we may all feel like imposters from time to time, that none of us are imposters, that we all own our educations and our institutions.
Upon completion of this program, I hope to immerse myself in a community college environment and encourage administrators, writing programs, instructors, and students to value not knowing. In any of the arenas of teaching, administering a writing program, mentoring instructors, administering a writing center, or mentoring peer tutors, I hope to help others feel more comfortable with their discomfort as I continue to wrestle with that paradox myself.
From the first day of our instructor orientation in August, I have felt unprepared, under-qualified, and out of my league for both my teaching responsibilities and my coursework, from practical and intellectual standpoints. Never before had I been asked to work or think this hard, never before had I not been the smartest kid in the class. I had never heard of “imposter syndrome” before but I was certainly embodying it. I still feel this way most days, wondering what I accidentally included on my application materials that could have convinced anyone I was capable of completing this endeavor, fantasizing about what I would be doing if I had been accepted into a less demanding program or had chosen an entirely different path.
By conceptualizing this essay, however, I have begun to understand the multi-faceted benefits of these feelings and the decisions I have made.
In not being the smartest kid in the class, I am becoming more open to the startlingly brilliant ideas and varying points of view of my colleagues, my instructors and advisors, and my students. In my most challenging class yet, both in terms of workload and conceptual rigor, AL877 Community Literacy, I am struck every single week by the abilities and compassion that our community brings to our discussions; they simply make me want to think and work better, week in and week out. This is just one example--I have felt challenged, stimulated, and intellectually uncomfortable in all of my courses and in my classrooms. By not having all the answers, I am (slowly) learning to ask questions, to be more comfortable admitting that I just don’t know, and to step outside the arenas in which I feel comfortable, academically, professionally, and personally.
As a scholar, I am only now realizing just how visceral and critical this feeling of not knowing is. If I knew, why would I be here, living on coffee and at the library? If I knew, what would I have left to learn from those around me? I have begun to understand that no one worthy of my admiration thinks they know, no matter how much I might think they know. These scholars and mentors and students don’t let not knowing stop them from learning; they embrace it and convert it into a hunger to know more.
I would like to continue to create my own hunger. As a student scholar, I hope to continue to put the best effort I can into my coursework, gaining from it both the material being offered to me and an understanding of how to exist and thrive in this environment. As a (somewhat unwilling) researcher, I hope to uncover how our students feel, think, and express their thoughts about how they are asked to learn and what they are asked to deliver in their first-year writing experience. As a teacher I hope to foster in my students the confidence to admit when they don’t know something, the value of asking questions, yet also the faith in their own abilities and capabilities and understandings of the worlds that they inhabit. That faith is what allows us to feel comfortable asking questions; I might not have achieved that for myself yet, but I believe that in asking others how I can help them toward that goal, I can continue with my own journey.
I want everyone I encounter to understand that while we may all feel like imposters from time to time, that none of us are imposters, that we all own our educations and our institutions.
Upon completion of this program, I hope to immerse myself in a community college environment and encourage administrators, writing programs, instructors, and students to value not knowing. In any of the arenas of teaching, administering a writing program, mentoring instructors, administering a writing center, or mentoring peer tutors, I hope to help others feel more comfortable with their discomfort as I continue to wrestle with that paradox myself.
