Autobiographical Reflection - On Who I Am

Who am I? I am not one who usually sits around reflecting on my identity in a deep or formal way. I tend to think about who I am in more practical terms. I work at being a productive and caring teacher. I work at being a good and loyal friend. I work at being a family member who values the bonds we share. Those things matter to me more than trying to define myself perfectly. Still, when I step back and really think about it, I can see that my identity has been shaped by many roles: teacher, student, daughter, sister, friend, reader, and lifelong learner.

One thing most people probably know about me is that I am an avid reader and a lover of stories. If friends, family, or colleagues were asked to describe me, many of them, if not most, would probably say, “She loves books and her cats.” Honestly, they would not be wrong. Stories have always mattered to me. Books have given me places to escape, ideas to think about, and people to understand. Reading has helped shape how I see the world, and it has probably made me more curious about the inner lives of other people. The cats, of course, have mainly shaped my ability to accept being ignored in my own home.

This year, I completed my nineteenth year of teaching. That feels strange to write because, in some ways, I still remember being a new teacher and wondering if I was doing anything right. Over the years, teaching has become one of the main ways I understand myself and the world around me. It has shaped my patience, my sense of humor, my problem-solving skills, and my understanding of people. Teaching has also humbled me. No matter how many years I have been in the classroom, students still surprise me. They still teach me things.

I have taught a very diverse group of students over the years. When I taught in Houston, my students were primarily Hispanic and Black. In Tulsa, my students are a mix of White, Hispanic, and Burmese/Zomi students. It is one thing to talk about diversity in a general way. It is another thing to have real children sitting in front of you, each with their own family, language, history, personality, strengths, and struggles. Students are never just names on a roster. They come into the classroom carrying stories we may or may not fully understand.

That has probably been one of the biggest lessons of my teaching career. People’s experiences are not all the same. Their cultures are not all the same. Their families are not all the same. Even the way they understand school can be different. Some students come from homes where school feels familiar and easy to navigate. Others may be translating between languages, expectations, and cultures every day. Some students are confident right away. Others are quiet because they are unsure, overwhelmed, or simply watching carefully before they speak. I have learned not to mistake quietness for lack of understanding or difference for defiance. I, myself, was a very quiet student.

My own background has shaped me too. I was raised with certain values: work hard, be responsible, respect others, care about family, and keep going even when things are difficult. Those values are still important to me. They connect to the kind of person I try to be, even if I do not always think about them in formal terms. I value loyalty, responsibility, and the relationships that hold people together. At the same time, teaching and age has shown me that my way of seeing the world is not the only way. My experiences matter, but they are not universal. That realization has made me more thoughtful. At least, I hope it has.

I also identify strongly as a student. Continuing my own education has reminded me how vulnerable learning can feel. As teachers, we sometimes forget that. We ask students to read, write, answer questions, take risks, and show what they know. But being a student again has reminded me that learning can feel daunting. Sometimes I understand something right away. Sometimes I do not. Sometimes I need more time, clearer directions, or a chance to talk through my thinking. That experience has made me more aware of what my own students may feel every day.

My relationships with students have helped me learn about cultures and experiences different from my own. Some of that learning has happened through big conversations, but much of it has happened in small moments. A student explaining a family tradition. A parent sharing a concern. A student using a word from another language. A classroom conversation that reveals how differently students may see the same situation. Those moments matter. They remind me that culture is not something separate from school. It is already there, in the room, whether we acknowledge it or not.

I have not always gotten everything right. I know that. There have probably been times when I made assumptions too quickly or thought I understood a student before I really did. That is not easy to admit, but it is true. Teaching has taught me that caring about students is important, but it is not enough by itself. I also have to listen. I have to pay attention. I have to be willing to adjust.

After nineteen years, I still believe education is deeply human work. It is about standards, lessons, and assessments, yes. But it is also about identity, trust, culture, and relationships. My students have helped me see the world beyond my own experiences. They have made me more aware of what I know, what I do not know, and what I still need to learn.

In the end, I may not spend a lot of time trying to define exactly who I am. I think I understand myself more through what I value and how I try to live. I want to be dependable. I want to be kind. I want to do my work well. I want to care for my students, honor my family, and be loyal to the people I love. I am shaped by my family, my faith, my work, my students, my education, the stories I read, and the places I have lived and taught. I am proud of the experience I have gained, but I also know I am not finished growing. I hope I never am.