Scary Days Ahead...

I remember clearly the day I decided I'd had enough of retail and chose to go back to school. Although I can't recall if it was a specific incident that spurred the decision (it was probably a culmination of all the horrible episodes one experiences in retail), I do remember the fear, anxiety, and doubt that went along with the decision.

While the money wasn't too bad at Swatch, and the advancement opportunities were definitely there, I just wasn't happy in my job; and I couldn't foresee that ever changing. I owed it to myself to do something that didn't make me feel completely worthless at the end of the day.

So I chose to return to school to become a history teacher.

It was a pretty quick decision: I thought it over for a couple of weeks before giving my district manager a two months notice. Still, my final days at Swatch were a mix of enthusiasm and intense fear of the drastic change ahead. I was going back to school at thirty-two years old. And although my friends and family were all very supportive, the fear and doubt in the pit of my stomach never really let up.

Nevertheless, I decided to devote all my energy to school. I made it the priority in my life--even over writing, which was painful since writing is my ultimate love. I sat in the front of all my classes, took copious notes, never missed a class, and after four semesters I had a perfect GPA to go along with my diploma. And on graduation day, I knew it had all been worth it.

Now I'm in the final stretch: the credential program for teachers. And with the program comes a whole new sort of anxiety and fear. The prospect of coming up with unique lesson plans and executing them before a class of forty high school kids, a master teacher, and a Fresno State supervisor has turned my stomach into fiery knots. I literally wake up in the middle of the night drenched in fear. Little voices inside my head shriek: "Go back to Swatch" "Retail's not that bad" "Escape before you make a complete fool of yourself!"

But then I tune out those cowardly voices, and I tell myself: This is it--the final leg of the journey I set out on three years ago. I have to suck it up and get over my fear of failure. Even if I screw up a little, the kids will never know; and my master teacher and supervisor understand what I'm going through because they've been down this same road.

The key is to remain confident and to keep my focus. If I devote the same amount of energy that I put into my classes into my lesson plans and on my delivery then I can expect an equal amount of success.

Now if I can only figure out how to slow down my heart rate and stop my hands from trembling.