This semester I taught my first ever college course, Restorative Justice, for undergraduates at George Mason University. It had been a dream of mine for some time and I felt a mix of thrill and nerves as I found myself about to begin my first class. I’d had a sense that I would really love teaching, that it would expand on my skills and experience as a facilitator while challenging me to develop in new ways. But as I made my way through the first day of teaching, imposter syndrome began to seep in: I am not a professor; I am not a scholar or academic; I don’t have the expertise to be here. Even though I had intentionally designed a syllabus that resists certain traditional ideas of pedagogy, even though I questioned the notion that knowledge and the written word and research are inherently more valuable than lived experience and personal reflection, I found myself doubting my fitness for this role.
Luckily, I pressed on, past moments where I questioned whether what I said made any sense at all, moments of feeling disconnected from the words I was saying. I stuck to my plan and found far more confidence in a conversation about why they’d chosen the class or when I elicited stories to get to know one another or when we co-created a community agreement to identify what would help us maximize learning. In other words, when we were in the mode of experiential education, when we were embodying restorative principles and core values of interconnectedness and belonging. This is what I know well and what I know works.
Thankfully, as time went on, that initial tentative class quickly became a thing of the past. Does that mean the rest of the course was without challenges? That I never found myself fumbling an answer or wishing I’d approached something differently or doubting the right thing to do? Absolutely not. Those moments were not infrequent. But my response to them had changed. As opposed to calling my fit in this new role completely into question, these missteps confirmed that this was the right choice. I was doing something that I had talent for and interest in as well as something that would require me to learn and grow.
The biggest skill I was developing was the ability to sit in uncertainty, unease, and even to celebrate it. Bravo for not having the best answer and coming up with something anyway! For wanting to get better but still accepting where I am right now. For the beauty of being vulnerable by admitting to my students when I just didn’t know something and wanted to learn more about it myself.
I encourage you to transform anything akin to imposter syndrome into an appreciation of being in that growth and learning space. Celebrate whatever in your life – personally, professionally, through a volunteer role – is calling on you to take risks, to not feel like you’re doing great all the time. I hope you trust that there will be pay-off to that risk and that, in fact, it’s already paying off every time you do it. And if you can’t think of anything like this, consider what you might step into that will help you practice this muscle of finding comfort in discomfort. These leaps can feel quite terrifying first, but may end up being our proudest accomplishments in the long run. If they are serving our sense of purpose, of working to build a world we desperately want to see, they will certainly be worth the risk.