Before Twitter and Instagram were born, and when Facebook was still in its infancy, I embarked on my first semester at McGill University.
I was a fresh young thing, with a spring in my step and a dream in my heart. And, like most sheltered young adult Type A personalities – I was determined, ambitious, and painfully naive.
After getting excellent grades in my high school and CEGEP (in Quebec, similar to a junior college) history courses, I was certain I’d experience the same level of academic success at McGill.
I enrolled in a Bachelor of Secondary Education, majoring in history and minoring in religious education. It felt like a program tailored specifically for me, as it combined all my favourite things:
- a study of the past
- a study of faith
- all wrapped up in program that equips you to teach them!
Wow, was I in for a rude awakening.
I failed.
I did the one thing you’re not supposed to do if you’re studying to be a history teacher in Canada: I failed my Canadian history course. Just straight bombed it. It was ugly. It was embarrassing, humiliating, confusing, you name it – I felt it.
Have you ever hit roadblocks whilst travelling on the road of life to your destiny, that caused you to question reality and everything that matters? I sure did!
I was very disillusioned with what I thought was my purpose, my calling, my destiny, my gifting… The one thing you long to discover you were born to do. That contribution only you can make to this world in your own unique way… Failure was devastating. Failure felt like the end of my road.
Some good news!
Don’t worry, Tina! They offer a supplemental exam, so credits could be made up by just retaking the exam!
Well, that’s what I did. I studied my ass off, and wrote my brains out on that supplemental. I was back in the game!
Except I really, really wasn’t. To my shock and horror…
I failed, again.
I bombed the supplemental. Which, by the way, was supposed to be even easier than the final for the original class.
As any level-headed person would, I began to question my very existence and purpose in life. My entire future flashed before my eyes as I wondered,
How can I be a history teacher if I can’t even pass a freshman level history course? …multiple times?!
I mean, it was a fair question.
To add insult to injury, I discovered that my initial grade would still appear on my transcript, and both would be calculated into my GPA. Fantastic.
Well, third time’s the charm. By the time I graduated from McGill, I had 3 attempts on that blasted Canadian history course and my poor GPA had all the blows to show for it.
Fast forward six years
I had taught at several Montreal schools, gotten hitched, and popped out a couple of kids. I’ll never understand the term popped out when referring to childbirth, as it is anything but!
I digress…
We were making plans to move to Leamington, and that meant transferring my Quebec teaching credentials to Ontario. Easy peasy! I’d be on the road to molding the young minds of Essex County in no time.
Except, nope!
You guessed it… I failed. Again.
Ok fine, maybe I’m being dramatic. I didn’t actually fail because it’s just a matter of paying to be certified, which I did, and I am. But I just couldn’t land a job!
I wasn’t invited for an interview. Didn’t even get called to fill in for the day.
I was just a resumé sitting in an inbox collecting cyber dust waiting to be noticed. To this day, I haven’t taught even one period of high school history, English, or religion. The trinity of my passions. (Still being dramatic…)
When failure is a catalyst
Well you know what? If life had gone according to my plan…
I wouldn’t have acquired the tenacity or determination that can only develop after you’re knocked down and resolve to rise and try again.
- That I learnt after failing my history course.
I wouldn’t have come to appreciate that the most valuable lessons can’t be learnt by taking shortcuts. That the long way is the only way to learn patience, and strengthen your perseverance.
- That I learnt after failing my supplemental exam.
I wouldn’t have been home with my kids all these years, with enough time on my hands to eventually step out of my comfort zone and start this blog.
- That I learnt when the door of traditional teaching closed on me six years ago. But it took me awhile to see that one.
I wouldn’t have recognized that God’s ways are in fact higher and better. The type of “teaching” that I get to do on this blog and through Bible studies, are the very things I couldn’t even let my heart hope for. They seemed unattainable to me. Unrealistic. Beyond my reach.
- That I learnt by looking past my failures and at God instead.
So turns out that failing over and over at that ONE thing I thought was my destiny, was actually God’s way of doing two things:
- Shaping me into the person I am today.
Obviously this person isn’t perfect. And Lord knows I cringe at many things that make me who I am. BUT… I still like what God’s doing in this sinner. And I’m grateful for the lessons I’ve learnt through failure. - Shaping my path to draw me closer to Himself and the purposes He had for me all along.
Maybe I’ll find myself in a classroom again someday. I’m not above that. But it’s just no longer the desire of my heart. Sometimes God closes doors to open others we thought we’d never be good enough for in the first place.
Three lessons from this failure:
- God. Is. For. Your. GOOD. If you’re following Him, you can’t lose! Even when you do. Because He is always working things for the good of those who love Him. (Romans 8:28)
- God is not at a loss when you fail. We tend to think that we’re in God’s will when we experience success. But what if our failures are a vital part of what God is working in us? Not just in our accomplishments, but in our hearts. (1 Samuel 16:7)
- Do the next right thing. Hit a dead end? Feeling confused? Is there a Frozen song being quoted here? Maybe. But it ain’t wrong. We don’t get to see the ending from the middle, but we can do the next right thing. Don’t know what that is? Need wisdom? Ask God! He gives it generously to anyone who asks. (James 1:5)
From The Overflow 