The books are better than the movies. I know, it’s a perfectly snobby opinion, but it’s true. I started (slowly) reading the Harry Potter series for the first time, and having never read the books or seen the movies before, there’s something special about being able to dive into a series fresh for the first time. And while, I know, I’m extremely late to the party on this one, I’ve loved both the books and movies so far. But for the first time, I’ve made the conscious decision to read the books well before seeing the movies. And it’s definitely worth it. The books are better. And that doesn’t just apply to Potter; I think that statement is true for almost all series.
Why? There’s two big reasons. One, readers’ expectations are built all on their own experiences. When you’ve read the book first, you don’t rely on some director to tell you how each character looks or sounds, or how each location is mapped and constructed. You’ve put your own work, your own imagination into it. That’s part of why I enjoy writing my own book so much.
And two, there’s less waiting involved in reading. You patiently read on as mysteries remain uncovered, sure, but you control the pace at which you read. You can stretch a book over a year, or binge read it in two days. But movies and tv shows? You have to wait for the next episode or movie to come out. The DVD player or streaming service buffers. God forbid, you might have ads. Luckily, neither of these are problems with Harry Potter, since the books and movies have been out for a while and are very similar and top notch quality.
That said, the pros of creating your own expectations and not having to deal with waiting may seem pretty insignificant, and to some, they might be. There are certainly advantages to “following the script” and not having to do any of the hard thinking yourself. But enormous expectations and drawn-out waiting is hardly an easy thing to endure. It’s hard enough for movies or books to hit the mark. For life itself, it’s all the more difficult.
Preparing for Takeoff
When I last left off writing this thing, I was about halfway through my student teaching. Things were going well: I was nervous about moving to the school I did, nervous about leaving my job, nervous whether I could successfully be a good teacher, and yet, I did. I loved my class, my cooperating teacher and I became great friends, and I felt like I was making a difference. And it was all too soon that I left the world of fourth grade to go to a new school, a new grade, new kids, and a new teacher for the second half of student teaching.
First grade was certainly an adjustment from fourth. The hiccups along the way through the first few weeks of teaching in a new school were not easy. I felt homesick for my old kids and school. It took longer to feel as comfortable and confident as I had before. I realized how blatantly unprepared I was to teach math, even at a first-grade level. God, I even had someone run into my car the second day student teaching.
But time, patience, and determination pulled me through. I set about learning as much as I could about how to teach first grade (especially math) so that I could be the effective and engaging teacher I knew I could be. I built up relationships with my cooperating teacher and students, relationships I’m extremely grateful for and cherish. I played games on the field and did karaoke and ice-pop parties and all the fun things one does in first grade. And yes, I got my car fixed. In the end, I came to love my time in first grade just as I had come to love my time in fourth. It was different, of course. Comparing the difference between a first-grade rural school and fourth-grade city school is night and day. But regardless the circumstance, I persevered. I pushed through. I’d taken every opportunity and turned it into a chance to grow.
And finally, after two years of hard work, everything paid off. On a beautiful Saturday in May, hundreds of students gather to celebrate graduation. The sun, at first hiding in the clouds, bursts in the sky with the roar of the crowds and the ecstatic spirit of all in attendance. And despite the crowds, this moment is personal. I think back on all the effort it took to get here. To this moment, this stage. Everything I’ve learned, all the lessons I’ve written and taught; the bumps and hiccups teaching preschool, 4th, 1st; the amazing, incredible journey I’ve had. My friends, for the twelfth time, fix my stunning blue and sharp black cap and gown, all of us looking very much like some Ravenclaws from Hogwarts. These are the ones that embarked on this journey with me, studied with me, celebrated with me, cried with me... I couldn’t have done this without them. As I sit through the ceremony, I spy my family: Dad, Becca, and Shelby— smiling, supporting me every step, standing in the crowds, proud of all I’ve become, and cheering me on as I wave.
Before I know it, I rise. I march forward, the anticipation bubbling within as the moment of truth draws near. An incredible experience drawn to a close, the last of the proud alumni of Saint Rose, I cross the stage to await diploma and destiny…
Now What?
And that’s where the ad comes in. That’s where the movie starts buffering. That’s where the traffic comes to a standstill; where the roller coaster ride that is life, with all its twists, turns, ups, downs, and loops, sits waiting on the tracks.
There’s a lot that comes after graduation. In the immediate aftermath, pictures. Lots of them. Later that day, burgers and games with family, then drinks and celebrations with friends. After that, a return to work— everybody excited to see an old face, me, excited to be earning a paycheck again (and to see everyone again, obviously). But after that… not much. You know what the next step is— get a teaching job. So you upload everything you could possibly need to secure one. Resumes, cover letters, transcripts, recommendations, certifications. You check seventeen times a day to see what jobs are out there.
And yet, there’s nothing. A few schools here and there pop up, some worth applying to, and so, you apply. The first one is nerve-wracking. The second is less so. The third is decently simple. By the time you’ve sent in your twelfth, it’s a routine. Researching, writing, applying, waiting. Rinse and repeat and repeat. But as time passes, you get nothing. No follow ups on your application. No interviews. Nothing. Heck, the jobs that are posted aren’t always what you had in mind, or things you’re even qualified for. But, you’re in the routine, and the only way to guarantee a job is to go through the cycle again and again.
After a while, you start to wonder whether you’re doing it right. Surely, you’re qualified. You’ve taught preschool for five years, had a variety of incredible coaches while working and student teaching, went to one of the top schools for education, and have a pretty good track record for co-teaching, building relationships with students and teachers, and creating exciting lessons. And yet, you get nothing. The waiting is killing you. Until…
The Big Shot
At long last, you get a call for an interview. Not only is it an interview, but the interview. The interview at the one place you wanted to go most of all. The place everyone knows you, everyone expects you to go to, the place your mother taught. To say that you’re excited is an understatement. This is exactly the grade, exactly the setting, heck, exactly the commute you’ve been expecting for years. You’ve been planning this, banking on this, felt that this was where you were meant to be.
"You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." -Christopher Robin
That said, that’s also a double edge sword. While excitement is there, there’s also fear. You were hoping, praying you might get a shot at a ‘practice’ interview at another district so this wouldn’t be your first. The first interview is daunting. Granted, you’ve done all you can to prepare. Your friends all tell you you’re gonna do great. But you still have doubts. And again, the expectations are HUGE. Your family, friends, coworkers all expect this to be the one. The pressure is, immense. To feel like everyone is counting on you, watching you, placing these enormous expectations upon you. And at the end of the day, you’ve placed them on yourself too.
You spend one night studying standards. Another, old lesson plans. Another, making a mental list of all the things you’ve learned, taught, and done over the course of five years of preschool, grad school, and student teaching. You carefully choose your best outfit— a cool blue button shirt and black pants (once again, spotting the Ravenclaw color scheme you wore at graduation). You rehearse, you study, and most importantly, you pray.
The big day comes. You’ve done all you can do, ready as can possibly be. You walk in, first interview of your career, ready to seize the opportunity, ready to see five years of work come to fruition, ready to follow Mom’s footsteps…
Where We Are Now
And… I didn’t get it. Everything I’d been waiting for, fighting for. The expectation set on you, shattered.
And yet… it’s not nearly what I’d imagined. The interview, I thought, went well enough. There were certainly opportunities to speak more to certain areas, sure, and some challenging questions (some in hindsight I should have been able to answer better). But something in me knew by that night that it wasn’t meant to be. It took some time to be official, granted, but when years of belief that this was it suddenly turned out not be… I was okay with it.
Look, waiting sucks. And having giant expectations looming over you sucks. Instead of being trapped by that, I feel free of it. Instead of feeling like I let people down, I feel more humble, and in a good way. Instead of banking on one thing and one place, I’m free to explore, make my destiny wherever I’m truly meant to be. Instead of living in my mother’s shadow, I get to create my own legacy at a new school.
It’s odd. Very odd. I feel peace. Because ultimately, things never live up to expectation. Waiting yields weird results. It’ll never turn out how you envision it, because there’s a greater plan out there for you than you could ever imagine.
So, I’m back at square one. Waiting. Turning in applications wherever I can, trusting that the waiting pulls off. But this time, there’s no massive expectations of what’s to come. I’ll accomplish all I’m meant to and more, in time (speaking of, check out the new "To Do List" section of my website!). And yes, while there’s a small part of me that wishes I could wave some magic wand and make everything I dream of come to fruition, I can’t. That’s okay. When you genuinely do all you can do on your end, you have to trust that God will do all he can do on his.
My story is full of the unexpected, and it certainly hasn’t lived up to my expectations— it’s exceeded them. So it will again. In the end, I’ll be right where I’m meant to be. And knowing that, I’m okay with following whatever journey I’m taken on.
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