Rising as a Student Teacher in a Broken System
I entered my final semester of college ready to become a teacher—not just in title, but in purpose. What I didn’t expect was to be tested not by students, but by the very people who were supposed to guide me. My supervising instructor once told me I’d be “mediocre at best.” She couldn’t see my potential—only that I was different. That I thought differently. That I moved differently. And that, to her, meant something was “wrong.”
The cooperating teacher I was placed with—an award-winning educator—made her distaste for me clear. With her, I saw what it meant to be covertly bullied while being outwardly smiled at. I’d never experienced this type of hatred towards me in such a deep way before, and it was hard to comprehend. I’d experienced a multitude of hatred towards me from a number of people by the time I’d reached college, but this was a type of hatred I wasn’t prepared for at all.
I was kind. Respectful. Diligent. But to the cooperating teacher, I was inconvenient. Unworthy. She helped others more than she helped me. She made me feel invisible, isolated, and inadequate. I cried almost daily in the shower after returning to campus, praying I could make it to the finish line. I can remember how salty those tears tasted as I tried to stifle my audible cries in the shower.
Then came the shift: she had to step away for two weeks, and I was left alone to lead the class. It was in those two weeks that I soared. I didn’t do things her way, but I kept the structure, brought my own voice, and the students—especially the ones newly bussed in from high-poverty areas—saw me. They connected with me. They trusted me.
And it enraged her.
When she returned, the energy shifted. She said, “I hope you didn’t ruin everything I worked so hard to maintain.” But by then, the truth had already spoken. Students gravitated toward me. The principal saw my strengths and gave me glowing reviews. He even offered me a job. I turned it down. I wasn’t going to step into a place that couldn’t accept me while I was still learning.
By the end, she gifted me a mug and a card—while other student teachers received full baskets of supplies. Her bitterness was on display. But I smiled anyway. Not in spite. But in peace. Because I’d made it.
What I learned through that experience was that no matter how many forces try to suppress your light, you will rise—again and again—when your power comes from something greater. I learned that I’m not here to be liked. I’m here to be aligned. And when you’re walking in your assignment, even hate can’t block your purpose.
Let that be the lesson.
My Voice Unchained 