They Called Me "Teacher Rachel"

Last year, I started classes to get my master's degree in Elementary Education. I love to write and had thought about starting a blog for some time. Writing is therapeutic for me and I wanted to document my journey to become a teacher--it's quirks and challenges, my victories, tips and quotable kid moments. I can tell already it's going to be a wild ride. Later, I might share how I came to know I should be a teacher, but I wanted to tell you about this blog's title.

In a community center tucked away in the Eastleigh neighborhood in Nairobi, Kenya, some of the most precious first and second graders called me "teacher" for the first time. They encouraged me when I was nervous. They waited intently and were eager to hear from me. But what could I offer them? They were so much more courageous than I was. Until that moment, I hadn't thought of calling myself a teacher. When they did, I knew my journey was real.       

The following an excerpt of my blog post from July 16th, 2013, originally written for the Willow Creek Chicago blog:

Eastleigh Community Center was the calm eye in the midst of a tornado of colorful street vendors, clouds of dust, honking buses, trash and stray animals. The center is a place where teens can go to exercise, play sports take classes and get involved as an alternative to street life. There, we met Sonny, who coaches basketball teams for boys and girls in the neighborhood. God is truly blessing Eastleigh’s teens through Sonny as he ministers to his players, to whom he is an amazing role model.  

The center provides ESL classes, where most of the students are Somalian refugees learning English for the first time. Our group members were able to sit next to each student while playing word games and encouraging them in their studies.  

I was able to spend time with Teacher Doreen and her preschool and kindergarten students at the center’s school. I was completely blown away by the respect the students gave Teacher Doreen. She taught them with patience and strength one could only strive for. I could see through the students’ joy and sweet smiles that school was a privilege for them. Their eagerness to learn was inspiring, their giggles, infectious. As soon as they started calling me Teacher Rachel, my knees went weak and I knew I would leave part of my heart in that tiny, cement classroom.