Fear

In my writing circle, we've been talking a lot about fear in our characters. One of our group members mentioned advice from an author, to draw your characters towards their fears. It's supposed to be a good way to move your story and drive your plot in an interesting direction. It sounds reasonable and one of the other writers had a eureka! when she immediately began applying it. I, on the other hand, can't take my only character toward her fears because I barely even know her yet. She was just recently born to my imagination (and my blog, see Tess), and her story is still percolating in the clouds above my head...

But I got to thinking. Perhaps all the struggles I'm having are because I am moving toward my fears. I never thought of myself as fearful of much; no phobias about flying, closed spaces, crowds, or even talking in front of groups. Spiders dont freak me out much, I ride roller coasters with my son, I have dreamed of skydiving, and heights generally don't bother me. Of course cockroaches gross me out, and I have some rational fears about losing my parents. But overall, I'm not a fearful or anxious person. Or maybe I am.

Identified as high IQ, or "gifted" in elementary school, I have always been a good student. I generally liked school, and with good attendance and class participation, most classes in grade school required little studying on my part. I came. I listened. I talked. I did homework every night. I came back. I got A's. Once I got into middle and high school, the A's required more effort, but I obliged. I took every chance there was to increase my grades in between test days, because I always preferred a written assignment over an objective test. I graduated with honors and went off to college where I struggled temporarily, but managed to find my way. So far, so good.

It became apparent to me in my senior year of college, that my bachelors degree in speech communication would only be a stepping stone to something else. Let me backstep. Like so many other high achieving kids, I entered college thinking I wanted to be a doctor. I was a pre-med psychobiology major. I still can't believe I let myself live that lie for so long, but that's another post. Realizing the doctor thing was all a facade, I found myself floundering a little at the start of my junior year. I knew I didn't want to be a doctor, but now what was I going to do? My mom always said I'd make a good lawyer. I was smart, had no trouble speaking to or in front of people, and of course, I was skilled in argument (don't all parents say that about their kids?). Without commitment to law school but considering it a possibility, I changed my major to speech communication. In the back of my mind I was also considering speech pathology as another option. Having already earned several credits in Spanish, I made that my double major. Senior year I decided against law school because I really wanted to work with children. I took the GRE and started exploring grad schools for speech pathology and special education. So far so good.

If you're wondering at this point how this all relates to fear, stick with me. I'm getting there.

I traveled around the southeast looking for graduate programs, couldn't decide on one I liked that also wanted me, and I decided to hold off. I got engaged to my high school sweetheart that April, graduated in May, and we moved in together in June. We married the following January. That year, I bounced around between different jobs, and ultimately spent about 18 months waiting tables at a local seafood restaurant. Halfway through, I applied to graduate school and I was accepted into a Masters program for special education. Waiting tables was humbling work. I was treated terribly and assumed to be an idiot, though I was more highly educated than most of my customers, and all of my coworkers. But, I made a lot of cash and had a lot of fun during the late night industry parties and hangouts. So far so good.

Restaurant work was grunt work. Many of the people I worked with were alcoholics and drug users. Not all of them, but truthfully many of them. Others were hardworking people with little or no education. One was a teacher by day, who needed the extra money. I know that's a shock, right? But it didn't take long for me to realize I wanted something better. With a semester of grad school under my belt I was ready for a more professional environment. So I hung up my apron and got a job at a domestic violence center. I was a victims advocate, taking crisis calls and helping work the shelter for women and children. Before long, my boss recognized I had some skills to offer and I became the education coordinator there; training volunteers and new employees, speaking about our cause in the community, and helping write grants for new and continuing funding sources. I was officially in the professional work world, feeling good about the cause, and finishing graduate school. So far so good.

I guess this is turning into more of a bio, but I promise I'm getting back to the fear. Humor me.

In my last year of grad school my husband and I got pregnant. I completed my final internship at a local  elementary school and worked part time at the shelter, all while my belly continued to round out and block my view to the sensible shoes I had to wear to survive the day on my feet. I gave birth and worked part time at the shelter for a few months and then took the year off to be with my baby. Best decision I ever made, but that next year I was ready to put my new degree to work. Through a friend, I got some part-time work tutoring students with learning disabilities as I applied and interviewed for jobs. Eventually, I was picked up by Broward County Public Schools, and I continued part-time at the school for kids with learning disabilities. My teaching career was off and running. So far so good.

The next few years were crazy! My career went fast track and I learned so much through so many experiences and opportunities. The details are too many, but following that first year, I left the public school for full time work at the school for kids with LD. I taught high school (still my favorite age to teach). I got involved in SAT coordination and prep. I worked on amping up the content area teaching and textbooks at the school. I became involved in program training for other teachers in this network of schools, and I began working on a large curriculum project for the parent company. I'm pretty sure my passion for curriculum and instruction was born from these experiences. By the time I was 30, the company hired me as a principal for a PK-8 school with a side by side general education and specialized program for students with language based learning disabilities. This was a great experience, but I soon realized I had a major conflict with the idea of for profit education and its effect on otherwise seemingly good people. So I left. People thought I was nuts. But I left. I was told I was committing career suicide. I still left.

I was hired by a nonprofit organization, Eckerd Youth Alternatives, to be the Education Coordinator (their name for principal) at a residential wilderness camp for juvenile offenders. An amazing experience that could yield a writing piece of its own one day, I learned boundless lessons about life, people, and myself. I helped with accreditation, educational program improvement, and teacher mentorship. I also taught almost daily. In hindsight, I think it was my best job experience to date. Unfortunately, the commute made it challenging to be an attentive mom to an 8-year-old, so I left after a year. Four months later, I was saddened to find it would close anyway. 

The principal of an elementary school in Lee County hired me for the following school year, and I was back in public school for the first time in almost 10 years. I was amazed at the difference. I felt like a cog in a giant machine. My experiences, my knowledge, they didn't mean much in this world. Just pick up where the person before you left off, and do it better. Don't ask too many questions, and don't tell us where you've been. Most people don't care. It didn't take long for me to realize something had to give. I chose this particular job so I could be on the same schedule as my son, and in a few more years that would no longer be an issue. So I was determined to be the best mom and teacher I could be, while devising an alternative path with an exit option. So I applied to school again. Maybe I'd be a doctor after all. I was accepted into the first ever doctoral class at the local university, at the time known to locals as FGCU. Now known across the land as Dunk City! So far so good.

The rest can be summed up like this. I lived and studied curriculum and instruction. I was steeped in educational theory and practice that truly inspired me (and still does) to the core. I read and wrote more in three years than I probably had in the 10 or 15 previous combined. I became involved with and impassioned by the National Writing Project. I learned the power of personal narrative, voice, and qualitative research. I learned why so many people remain ABD (all but dissertation) and became determined to be among the 10% who are not. I did it. I became a doctor. I did it on my own terms, as a writer, a voice among teachers. Today, I am Laurie J. Kemp, Ed.D., a published author.

So now you ask. What am I afraid of? I'll tell you. My fear is, that's it. My fear is that my dissertation might be the best piece of writing I've ever done or will ever do, that I might not have anything else to offer the writing community. I'm afraid that I'm a fraud, that I'm a person who can teach writing, study writing, and talk about writing, but can't write. Can it be? 

I hope with all my soul that this isn't the case. I hope that if I write my character toward her fear that there will be more to this plot. I hope that if I continue to face this fear everyday, that I will rise above it and make it not so. I have surrounded myself with people who will hold my hand on the journey. I just hope that I can go confidently and not kicking and screaming. I want this. More than anything I want this. I just need to keep writing her toward her fear. So far so good.