Becoming the Teacher I Needed: Reflections on Growth and Purpose

 

When I first stepped into the world of teaching, I carried with me a powerful desire: to make a real difference in a child’s life. I had always imagined what kind of teacher I wanted to be—compassionate, inspiring, someone who really sees their students. But my journey began in a place that complicated things: my old school.

Returning to the place where I had once been a learner myself came with a lot of emotional baggage. Many of my coworkers were now the very teachers who had once taught me. As much as I wanted to see myself as a professional, I often felt like a student again—unsure, hesitant, and not fully in my role. That first year was hard. I struggled to find my footing, and somewhere along the way, I internalized a belief that I wasn’t good enough. That maybe I had made a mistake. That I would never be the kind of teacher I wanted to be.

Even now, years later, that voice sometimes lingers. The feeling of being a fraud—like I’ve tricked everyone into believing I’m capable. It’s a difficult thing to shake, especially in a profession as emotionally and mentally demanding as teaching. But here’s the truth: there’s so much evidence that contradicts those feelings.

I’ve seen learners grow in confidence, I’ve watched as shy students raised their hands for the first time, and I’ve read thank-you notes that spoke of impact, not perfection. Yet, like many teachers, I often downplay these moments, brushing them off as luck or circumstance. But they matter. They are the quiet proof that I am making a difference.

One thing that keeps me grounded is my approach to teaching. Yes, I teach my subject—I plan lessons, I assess, I explain. But I also believe that the classroom should be a place where learners grow not just academically, but personally. I’m passionate about teaching life skills—what we now call “soft skills.” Things like emotional intelligence, communication, resilience, and decision-making.

Sometimes I tell my own stories in class. Other times, I share stories of friends or people I admire—anonymously, respectfully—because I want my students to see that the challenges they face are not unique to them. That the feelings of not being “good enough,” of being stuck or labeled, are common and, more importantly, temporary.

I often tell my learners: “You might feel like you’re failing now, or like you’re always the one who struggles—but that’s not the whole story. That’s not who you are, it’s just where you are right now.” I remind them that labels—like ‘lazy,’ ‘slow,’ or even ‘clever’—aren’t permanent definitions. We get to grow. We get to redefine ourselves, again and again.

And I suppose that’s the lesson I’ve been learning myself too. I don’t have to stay stuck in the mindset of that first-year teacher who didn’t feel good enough. I don’t have to carry the weight of old insecurities into every lesson. I’m still learning, still evolving—and that’s not a flaw, that’s the whole point of this journey.

What I’ve realized over time is that the best teachers are not the ones who have it all figured out, but the ones who are honest, human, and open to growth. Our students don’t need us to be perfect. They need us to be present. They need to know that we see them, believe in them, and care.

So I keep showing up. Some days with confidence, some days with doubt—but always with heart. Because even on the hard days, I know why I started: to make a difference. And maybe, I already have.