The Birth of Modern Anxiety

Lesson #5 - Never forget what would have made you happy in the beginning.

We have remember that there is a lot of stigma about getting help for mental health. In the book "Spare" Prince Harry literally says that he was afraid to seek therapy after the loss of his mother, and gambles a kingdom to try to address challenging issues related to anxiety. His story is truly about everyone having some kind of carry-forward issue inherited from parents/grandparents that is most efficiently addressed by describing the problem and setting a boundary. Let's live in a world where we can have this conversation in order to see these trends improve year after year.

Reviewing statistics and data is a passion of mine. I saw some recent data that showed a steady increase in reported anxiety in teens over the course of several years. It made me fearful that this trend would continue to worsen over time. I hope this coming generation is inspired to share their voice with others because I believe it's the key to a better world. Teaching (and learning) from Gen-Z has helped me realize the power and impact of one person sharing their voice can have. When I see the potential for this generation and the challenges they face, I believe that if given the right opportunity, they could shape a society that's the best we've ever seen.

Let's look at the people around us and remember that happiness is about re-discovering what would have made you feel accomplished when you first got started. Sometimes happiness comes from a quiet dinner with a close friend or catching up with a family member while walking through a park. How much of our hurt, pain, and division emanate from the feeling that we are missing close friends or that we are not part of a community in which we feel valued?

"Nothing in life is more liberating than to fight for a cause larger than yourself, something that encompasses you but is not defined by your existence alone." ― John McCain, Faith of My Fathers: A Family Memoir

Years ago, when I first started writing, it was to honor the family members and teachers who passionately encouraged me to pursue education. My mom did all she could to ensure I had access to educational programs and summer camps. My uncle read Green Eggs and Ham to me as a child and took me on American history tours in middle and high school, allowing me to see living history with my own eyes. My teachers held me to high standards, and those in my community encouraged me.

From a young age, I wanted to write something to inspire others to shape a better world, as my favorite authors inspired me. However, along the way, I became overly concerned with numbers and less about impact. My focus changed when I remembered the many friends who supported me by reading my work, providing feedback, or lending their talent, knowledge, and voice to my creative projects. There is no way I could ever repay them. Many of us will hit a roadblock in pursuit of our dreams, but redefining the impact you plan to make can make you press forward with your goals. I redefined my goals after one simple conversation in my first year of teaching.

Got another poem for me today?

As we approached the end of my first year of teaching (2016-2017), the staff collectively got together to promote the lead-up to our series of end-of-the-year Partnership for Assessment of Readiness for College and Careers (PARCC) standardized tests. There were posters, flyers, assemblies, and numerous reminders about the importance of the PARCC. On the morning of the first day of testing, a sixth grader slowly walked past me as I was greeting students at the front door. I asked what was wrong as she stood there with her shoulders hunched down. I suspected she was facing test anxiety, but I didn't want to pry since there were so many other possibilities for what a student could feel as they walked into a school building on a Monday morning. The student pointed to one of the large colorful signs on the wall that said, "Knock it out of the PARCC," and shook her head. I smiled and made up a Dr. Seuss-style poem about how she shouldn't be afraid of the test because what truly matters is you try your best.

The poem only consisted of a few lines, and the "performance" was brief. I don't remember the specific words I used to finish the poem, but I do remember the attempt to share my positive sentiment. The student turned her head to the side, stared at me with a confused look, and walked away. I hoped my noble effort to motivate her would be successful, but after her reaction, I chalked it up to another teaching fail. The testing schedule took up much of that morning, so I didn't see her until the next day. On Tuesday, she entered into the building with a slightly less pronounced "hunch" on her shoulders. Once again, she walked up to me and silently stood there. "Good morning," I said with a big smile. She tilted her head slightly and said six words I'd never forget: "Got another poem for me today?"

I immediately made up another poem on the spot, and at that moment, I knew that we had developed a new morning routine for the rest of that testing week. I never wrote those poems down or posted them anywhere, but amid a pressure-filled testing week, I learned a lesson that I'd never forget in the entryway to a middle school hallway. I recognized the importance of small moments of positivity, and for the first time in my life, I realized some-thing: Negativity is more memorable, but positivity is more powerful.

No matter what the future holds, there will never be a series of poems that could represent a more special place in my heart. This moment helped me understand that if you judge your success by your impact on one person, you'll often have a greater window into your true sense of purpose. After that week of testing, I no longer doubted that I was meant to be a teacher and that my career change was worth it.

On May 24th of 2022,
Was a picture that a 10-year-old drew,
on a pair of green Converse, and that's how they knew
Who she was when she lost her life in Uvalde at school.
And when they released her name,
the spelling, I couldn't unsee,
For that child's first name was spelled
M A I T E.
In permanent marker
she drew a picture of a heart,
and it reminded me of being a kid when Captain Planet said,
"The Power is Yours,"
after uniting Five parts.
Some called it the weakest, this power of heart.
Earth is strong,
Waters fluid.
Ma-Ti didn't control wind
Or make sparks
But Maite (pronounced Ma E Tay) Rodriguez
Could have saved the world
Her dream was to be a marine biologist.
She could have been a Planeteer.
But you can't be a Planeteer
If you aren't on the planet here.
But I promise, we see that heart
On her shoes with our eyes.
If we stand and refuse to be desensitized
So maybe one day, when this happens, it's actually a surprise.
So look at the picture and see the power of her heart
Call and write letters and fight to do your part
Because Earth can be moved,
Fire extinguished,
Wind can dissipate
And water evaporates,
But the power of heart will never give in.
So for all my life, I'll remember the heart that you drew.
And I'm teacher, but a student named Maite Rodriguez,
Taught me something new.