Brick Number Two

The second major experience I had that contributed to the depression I have been working through  started shortly after I had my experience with applying for personal training jobs. I started exploring what it would take to become a seminary teacher. It was something that interested me some time before, and I already had most of the education I needed. After talking to the guy over the program at BYU and a lot of thought, prayer, and discussion with my wife, I decided to start the process. It involved taking two semester long classes in sequence, and then student teaching. All three of these steps were sequential and the later two required an invitation to return.

So I started on the first class, and started to learn a lot about teaching, and there were practical experiences. I offered to teach a class at church, so I could get more practice, and really work on my teaching skills. I learned a lot, both about teaching and about doctrine, and I improved a lot. After the first class concluded I was invited to return for the second class.

The second class was more of the same. I learned, I improved, and I was enjoying it. Toward the end of the semester I had an opportunity to teach an actual seminary class for two weeks. I took a couple weeks off work, and focused on teaching for that time. I struggled a bit, but I felt I did well, and I know there were a few students I was able to connect with. At the end of the two weeks, I received student feedback, and continued with the course. Some of the feedback was good, some bad. Still, I felt good about my possibilities. The semester finished, and we eagerly awaited the letter that would say whether I continued with the program or if I was done. The letter came, and my advancement through the program was over.

I could look back and say this was just another job I didn't get, or it amounted to a failed job interview. To this point I hadn't actually got a job I applied for yet, so this wasn't really anything new. I could also say that it felt like I wasted eight months of my life taking classes  two days a week and all the study and time working on improving my teaching. All of these were true in a way, and they did affect me.

I also knew that I was trying for a very rare position with a lot of competition. The program would have something like 400 start the process and eventually about 15 would get hired. I knew it didn't necessarily mean I was horrible. All it really meant was I wasn't one of the few in the roughly 96th percentile. I knew I had grown and got better at teaching. My wife could see positive change in me. It was a good experience overall.

Still it affected me more deeply than I realized. I don't think I realized just how deeply for months. There was an immediate depression that had me down for a while, but the cumulative effect of this with the previous experience really hit me. Looking back it almost seems stupid. I took what I learned from the classes and practical experiences and made myself a better teacher. I continued to teach on Sundays until we moved a few years later. It shaped me in a positive way that I still benefit from. Unfortunately, it also shaped the monster that was trying to drag me down.