Who Am I? An Answer, Not a Question

Until four months ago, I was a teacher. When issues regarding education arose in a conversation, I knew my role. "I understand," I would say with a knowing smile. "I'm a teacher." When a child misbehaved in public and the parent would apologize, I would shake my head dismissively and, with a wave of my hand, say, "No problem. I'm a teacher." I was a teacher. That was my identity for seven years, and if you count the years spent preparing for the position, it was really eleven years. More than a third of my life focused on becoming or being a teacher.

Since resigning from my post, I have evaluated what comprises a person. Our society tends to rely on occupational labels. Upon meeting a new person, one typically asks, "What do you do?" Recently I read an online discussion of the usage of the terms "housewife" and "homemaker." A woman said that at her high school reunion, she had asked an old friend, "What have you been up to?" The woman defensively said, "I'm a housewife." Maybe she used the term "homemaker." I can't remember. My point is that we seem to attach our complete identities to our ways of earning income. And, depending on our own perceptions or on what we think are the perceptions of others, we may struggle with these labels. Why the labels? If asked what I do, I would be correct in saying, "I breathe. I cook. I sleep. I dream. I love. I hurt," would I not?

I have been surprised by my lack of concern about this issue since I severed ties with my old label. Teaching, I have been finding, will always be a part of my identity. Teaching is not confined to the walls of a classroom, nor does it have to be attached to a paycheck. I also laugh, write, bake, listen, sing. It is the sum of all the things we do that comprise our identity.

And isn't one's identity more than verbs? What we do is certainly part of who we are. But what about the nouns? The ocean, the South Texas hill country, books, wine, the color blue, cherry-flavored Kool-aid, Spode dishes, a fondness for red-headed children--aren't these part of my identity? The people in our lives, too, must be considered in our evaluation of our identities. The experiences we've had with them, the good ones, the bad ones, the ones that still hurt us, the ones that taught us lessons even though they hurt, the ones with people for whom we've learned to smile in remembrance of, even through the tears.

I think the next time someone asks me what I do, I will say...I live.