Once upon a time, I was a chicken. I confess. I would cluck constantly, but much was unintelligible chatter. I often thought the sky was falling, and frantically tried to get others to grind my corn into flour, but alone I stood, in frustration, doing it myself.
I walked around with a panicked look in my eyes and never quite understood how to tame my inner fire and outer fear.
Then one day, it magically happened. I looked back and realized that I could be. Just be. In my calm, in my fear, in my excitement, in my joy.
This liberated Madame Poulet. I became a woman. I began to see myself as a leader among children and realized that I do, indeed, have gifts to share with other leaders. I can, in fact, choose to put out meaningful words into the universe. I can ask for help grinding my corn into flour, and if that request is not granted, I can graciously seek it elsewhere.
I will never stop seeking now, as it really does exist. And I promise to do my best to help grind your corn to flour. If I cannot, I promise to help you find a miller.
As a French teacher with a bent on psychology and Gestalt, Twitter was a godsend. I believed I was doomed to be Chicken Little in a world of ducks and geese who couldn't possibly understand what ma classe was all about, let alone could they help me in my weak moments. It amazes me how suddenly, since finding Twitter, I have become a confident teacher, happy with myself and proud of mes habilités.
I need to thank my Twitter nest for showing me that I can, indeed, be proud of my plumage and have something to share with the world.