For my twentieth birthday, I asked my mother for a birthstone ring, which she agreed to. The gemstone for April is a diamond and while I was searching jewelry websites, everything I found with a single stone looked either like an engagement ring or promise ring. I eventually settled on this ring with four strings of tiny black and white diamonds that were made to look like they were twisting around each other.

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I loved this ring. I didn’t typically ask my mother for jewelry and most of my rings were heirlooms: a diamond ring from my mother’s Aunt Amanda, a heart shaped ring I took from my mother’s childhood jewelry box, my Grandma Evelyn’s class ring from high school, and a tiny silhouette ring my Aunt Eileen passed on to me that only fits my pinky finger. This was my first ring that was entirely my own.

 

At first, this ring was an odd, extra weight on my ring finger. I would move it from my right hand to my left and back again. I would twist it back and forth. I would take it off when typing or working on art projects and panic when I couldn’t immediately remember where I had set it down – almost always on the corner of my dresser. I wore this ring through the rest of college until it was weirder to have it off than on.

 

Right before the start of my first MTC summer school, I had to ditch the ring. Some weird combination of stress, metal-type, and sensitive skin resulted in a break out. I didn’t dwell on the loss. Summer school occupied my time completely: creating lesson plans, loathing role-plays, attending classes, managing students, grading papers, waking up early, learning to be more bold and firm, and surviving. The summer dragged on and flew by.

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After six weeks, I figured it was safe to put the ring back on. The ring felt weird again. I was uncomfortably aware of it on my finger. I had this dissonant moment when it didn’t feel like it was my ring anymore. But then, I didn’t feel like the same person anymore. This ring belonged to the normal me, but now there was another version of myself – teacher me – who was better in some ways than normal me.

 

Changing for the Mississippi Teacher Corps hasn’t been easy. I often am at odds with my own personality, trying to be the teacher my students need me to be without suffocating under the workload. Some days it is easier to don the teacher persona than others. I don’t like being the center of attention. I don’t like checking student behaviors. I don’t like the immense responsibility of imparting knowledge effectively when so much hangs in the balance. But MTC has pushed me to be better and to take chances. To survive teaching, you must transform and I think the changes I have undergone have been for the better.