I recently spent the day with my nephew. He is three and completely a hysterical kid.

 

I haven’t seen him in a while so it was no real surprise when I walked up to him he asked me who I was. My sister thought that was hilarious. I just felt a small stab to my heart.

 

Why haven’t I seen my nephew in about a year?

 

Well, let’s just chalk it up to family drama and a lack of communication. Also two parties were involved, so I can only take half of the blame.

 

But anyhow, so I am sitting there trying to explain to a three year old that I am his Aunt. Finally my sister steps in and tells him that I am a teacher like his other teachers at school.

 

So, can you guess what I was called for the rest of the day?

 

That’s right. If he wanted to be pushed on the swing, he called for “teacher”. If he wanted to be chased around the yard, he called “teacher”. He wanted to know if “teacher” was going to the bookstore with them. He demanded that “teacher” sit in the back of the car with him.

 

I didn’t get mad. I am a teacher after all.

 

Also, kids see things that adults miss out on. So, it didn’t bother me to be called “teacher” because maybe he can see my true worth. Lord knows I don’t see it. For the past three years I have been having a career identity crisis, so maybe now it can be sort of fixed.

 

She didn’t mention that I was a writer. If the truth needed to be told, neither did I. It might not seem like it, but I am very protective of my writing. I don’t like certain people to read my work and my sister is one of them. She tends to belittle my writing and the small accomplishments I make in my writing career. So, it makes sense that I wouldn’t tell her about it. A part of me really wanted to say something to her about my little career. I was half tempted to tell her about the Philadelphia Stories blog, but my reasoning mind prevailed and I kept silent.

 

So, this brings me to my point. Am I just a teacher or because I hide my writing self from certain people, it is hard for even a child to see it? Will the only true successes I will ever have be in the classroom? Have I even been a successful teacher? Do I have to choose between the two?

 

More importantly, can I choose between a writer and a teacher?  

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