So today was cool. I taught my first class at the language school. I actually taught 3 classes. But really I shouldn’t even call them classes because they were more like tiny groups. There was nothing to be nervous about. The students were all kind, bright, and motivated to learn. I suppose that’s all a teacher could ever ask for. So yes, it was a success; a step closer to a new career goal taken. And you betta believe I wore my new pants.
When I got called to substitute teach today (that’s how it works—I’m pretty much on-call), a part of me was super excited and nervous. And the other part(icle) of me just wanted to stay home in my pajamas. Not so much out of laziness, but maybe a bit reluctant to step out of the CZ.
One time I decided to “step out of my comfort zone” and go for a boardslide on the flat bar at the skatepark. I was so scared, but I thought I should just give it a try. I skated up to the rail and popped my board up on it (I ollied, didn’t just kickturn on to it), and then immediately lost my balance and slammed my knee into the concrete. So that was a fail.
But that’s actually not even a story about leaving my comfort zone. That’s just a story about skateboarding. And the story of going to the school today and teaching my first class isn’t one about leaving my comfort zone either. It’s about me doing and being a new thing, just as I created for myself.
Though I did leave my literal comfort zone (of yome). I did not want to leave my pink chair, the Fatboy, Charlotte, the Street Fighter, the alkaline water machine, the nondairy ice cream sandwiches, my toothpaste-stained DVDASA shirt, etc. I wasn’t afeared. I’m just a homebody at heart, that’s all.