I read my friend Ciara’s post on her blog this morning about attending teacher prep, and all that goes with starting a teaching career.

I went back automatically to the evening before the first day of my first year in the school system.

I was uneasy. 

I had the goods, as far as data, school supplies, and enthusiasm.  But I had no experience.

Looking back now, from this vantage point, experience would have been extremely helpful in that first year.

It would have eased my mind as I drove to school late that evening before the first day.  It would have had me sit quietly in my chair (I did for a little bit) and look forward with settled anticipation and joy to those I would soon intertwine my life with. 

Neither would it have construed the lightning flashing as I left, much later, as a negative omen.  Because it wasn’t.  My teaching career was decidedly positive, both in what it gained me and in the memories it left.  If those first students of mine are able to say anything positive about it—but I think surely they can.

Experience would have held my speech that first morning to approximately 10 minutes, instead of two hours. (possible exaggeration) It would have told me that a human mind, no matter how sharp, can only absorb so much of any one thing.  It would have had me catch the first sign of the glimmer fading in their eyes as their attention began to wane. 

Experience would have had me go slower in jumping to conclusions, on a certain morning, when I was sure my students were out to purposely challenge me.

I had sent them out after devotions for five minutes of fresh air and sunshine. 

Five minutes came and went, and soon 10 ambled by. 

I peeked down the hall to the doors they would come in through and saw them all standing grouped together.  It looked like they were laughing and generally having a good time.  “Okay,” I said to myself, “let’s see how this thing goes.  I can wait for quite a while.  We’ll see them when they come in.”

Finally, as it got to be closer to 30 minutes, I went to the door, opened it and told them to come in. 

Experience would have had me communicate with them a bit better, when, a couple of hours later, I approached them as largely guilty in reminding them of their missteps earlier, and asked them all to write an essay stating of their feelings and their involvement in the matter.

Experience was gained in a moment when, one of the quieter girls told me, after all the essays were in and I had read them, that all the doors to school were locked.  That they couldn’t come in, that they had waited, wondering when I would come let them in.  (Experience also taught me later in life not to use the word that inconsiderately when writing.  Experience was purposefully disregarded in this paragraph.)

Experience would have saved me from the dumbfounded discovery during the last week of that first year, of finding the sum total of all speed drills minus the first one still in a file in my desk.

I would like to give what experience I gained in my teaching career to each of you new teachers this year. 

But the consequences of such a move would be dreadful. 

Because it is the process of gaining experience that will make each of you the unique teacher you need to be. 

And, it is the process of gaining experience that will endear you to those you work closely with this coming year.

When, 20 years from now you write your own memories down of what transpired during your teaching years, you will realize most of those memories are the result of gainful experiences lived.

So, Ciara, and to all the other new teachers this year, take the plunge.

Fearlessly.

Because, experience tells me that each you will be the better for it.