I haven't been writing anything just for me in a while, and this week I still have to focus on writing for work. I need to write my "philosophy of teaching" for an adjunct position; it is the last requirement of training. I've been gathering thoughts like clouds looming overhead ready to pour down the much needed rain any minute now but the sun keeps peeping out on other things that I need/want/like to do more than think about why and how I do what I have chosen to do in my life.

Did I choose it? I am not sure. I know that I am good at what I do; it is good to know that you are good at your work so it is fine to say it/write it. I have taught many students and I hope that some of them learned something from spending time in my classroom. I teach adults exclusively now, with the exception of my own children, and the philosophy has changed somewhat from when I used to teach high school. Not much though.
I started this paragraph asking if I chose to teach and then abandoned the question. I did not say as a kid that I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up, and I adamantly rejected the thought in college. I was going to be a writer and not become a teacher who wanted to be a writer and didn't have the talent. Fear, probably, made the choices for me all of my life.

Scary thought.