That Kind of Voice and Those Kinds of Lines

In Israel, I did a series of tests to determine my personality and which careers were best suited for me. One of the questions required to continue the line pattern depending if the pattern was squiggly, zig-zaggy or whatever. Later the counselor explained that my lines were the exact angle, width, line and shape.

"You need to fit in..." she had said.

That was more than seven years ago.

I'm wondering what those lines would look like now.... of course, I could do this at home, but it's different when you complete it under test conditions and in a different country....

This morning, I woke up with the voice and soul of a 15th year old LaGuardia high school student of Music and Arts.

It was...

"The...
scared but unbeknowst to others
"I know what I want voice but, I am
afraid to admit it
because I might truly be
that... kind of voice."

In Geometry, the right angles had to perfectly right.
In Voice, the notes had to be technically on key.
In Theory, the beats had to be carefully measured.

Well, all those things ARE important, but in retrospect, that gave me comfort, defines me at the time and we all know what adolescence means. There was only ONE problem - NO SOUL in those angles. NO UNCONDITIONAL LOVE in those songs.

Today, I am happy when I check off my "to-do list" - the mere sensation of seeing check marks gratifies me. Ah, the life of a mother-teacher-writer....

But I've come a long way since those lines.....

You've come a long way baby....

Why I Started This New Blog: Moving Towards My Passion

Some of you dedicated followers may already know this, but I wanted to share with the others why I started a new blog, when I already have two well-established ones which you might already know by now - The New Teacher Resource Coaching Center and my speaking website, www.DoritSasson.com





While wearing the "teacher's hat," I constantly felt pulled into two directions. I wanted to cater to teachers on my professional websites, but, I also wanted to explore the power of my life story having lived in Israel for 17 years and now, what this experience means personally, now that I am living in the States.

For many years, I choose the path of a "silent voice" - that is typical of immigrants like myself, who live in another country for an extended period of time.  During teacher meetings for example, I was afraid to share good ideas with other members of the staff. I often thought to myself, "I'm silent, nobody will listen to me anyhow, so why bother?"


While teaching English to Israeli schoolchildren was my biggest cultural shocker. Not only I had to worry about managing a classroom, I also acted as an Israeli, which fell at the expense of my authentic voice. 


Now I'm in the process of healing myself after several traumatic years.
It was exciting to see this blog finally coming to life. Immediately, I felt a sense of purpose, passion, and personal voice.

It was time for me to not be an outsider looking in, and not just to lead just teachers, but a worldwide story writing movement where I could give "a voice to the voiceless" for those students, teachers, writers and other professionals who are experiencing isolation on any level.

Since I am a writer, I decided I needed a place that is visible so that people could see what I am  creating – while it’s being created. My new blogsite made my vision real.

The Voice from Down Under

1984

#1

"Mom, I have a problem. I need to talk to you about friends. I'm not making enough friends."
"Dorit, c'mon."
"No, seriously. I'm not making enough friends."
"I don't have time for this. Go see a psychologist."


****
"Mom, there's this boy I have a crush on at school. But I don't know what to do. Or say."
"Dorit... I don't have time for this. Go see a psychologist."

****

I stare and stare at the wall. Should I see a psychologist? I should have known my mom wasn't available for me.

When I finally go see the psychologist, I lie and lie.
Roslyn's her name. She sits in a small room; her "side" is the size of a walk-in closet; mine's the size of my room at Westbeth. I focus on the creases of he lines when she smiles. I try to decide whether the smile is real or fake. 
I lie about the social life I have and the social life I wished I had.
I'm embarrased. Ashamed. Of who I am. Who I want to be.
But I don't know who to turn to. And I waste more money on this psychologist.

****
It is 1989 and I'm home for winter break.
I lie on my mother's loft bed. I wait for my mom to come. The cracks on the wavy high loft ceiling resemble the same rabbit I had seen when I was my son's age, sleeping in-between two parents who hardly knew each other. Now, I have the bed to myself.
Her footsteps are heavy.
With eyes still fixated on the ceiling, I ask: "Mom...I'm scared."
No answer.
"Hey Mom... I'm scared."
"What's wrong honeybun?"
"I don't know what I should do?"
Mom doesn't ask me questions, so it's up to me if I want to make something of this.
"Mom, I don't know what I want to do with my life." I say.
"It's okay, hunny, bunny."

****
It's 1993 and I'm 22 years old. I've made my decision to become a teacher and in a few month's time, I will be studying at the Oranim College of Education, near Tivon in Israel.

It's good for you to have something to fall back on. Teaching is always a good profession to have.

"So, it's a good thing?" I ask.
"Yes. It's a good thing," she replies.

Even if my mom didn't directly confirm or guide me through this decision, I still feel naked because I'm on my own. I've been on my own emotional "island" for years. So I don't want to try to "figure" things out anymore. I'll go with a non-risk guarentee. Be a teacher. Something to fall back on. Secure and safe.

Sounds good to me.


Now twenty some odd years later, I understand. I was never encouraged to believe, explore and have faith. I've never really asked myself the questions, just went with the "right" voice - the one that feels comfortable to me. Instead of asking myself if I have the "right" friends or the "right" career, I'm asking myself...

1.Who do I want to be?
2.What do I want this day to be?
3.What kind of results do I want?
4. How do I want to serve the people that I come into contact with?

I'm consider myself privileged and lucky to be able to ask these questions now.