that doesn't mean I'm reluctant to jump in with both feet. I welcome this new adventure with all the excitement of a new career. You see, I always wanted to be a teacher, but my social phobias and inability to tow the party line always kept me from pursuing it. That, and the idea of trying to wrangle 30 small children for six hours a day would likely have driven me all kinds of insane. But teaching my own kid, this supremely awesome kid who dances like Mick Jagger in the middle of a room without a care in the world, this badass kid whose daily uniform is either a beaten up Iron Man costume or his Spider Man pajamas, this sweet kid who tries his very best and just wants to live in a world where he can be this extraordinary force for fun. Yeah, that kid I can teach.
Am I nervous? Of course I am. I feel a tremendous amount of pressure to somehow be better than or at least equal to his special ed teacher at school. I struggle to ignore the inner critic that tries to fill my head with all kinds of damaging words of self-doubt that I'll fail him miserably, that he may one day hate me for making this choice for him, that he may one day feel he's missing out on an experience that the majority of kids go through, that he'll grow so weary of staring at my face every day that he'll beg to go back to school.
Yeah, I have a challenging road ahead of me. But I have to believe I am capable of encouraging Perrin to be a creative, independent thinker. I had a few kind teachers who motivated me to be exactly who I am and never expected me to comform. One teacher even used me as an example of a person who "marches to the beat of her own drum." I wanted nothing more than to be left alone and allowed the freedom to thrive in an environment that accepted me. Unfortunately, I was horribly bullied and eventually learned to be invisible instead of shine. I wish nothing more from this experiment than for my son to always want to shine.