Teaching Ex-Cons

I know this particular post has nothing to do with bikes, but I'm deciding to write it anyway.

Envision a classroom full of primarily large black men in their 30's and 40's of whom the majority has been to prison, tattoos blaring. At the front of the room is a skinny 21 year old Asian college student who happens to be teaching these men about how to be successful in their future jobs.

Now consider the facts:

• The only job this Asian guy's ever had was being a waiter for three months when he was 17.
• He's never been to prison.
• It's his first class and he's terrified.
• This Asian guy is me.

Many might agree that this is a recipe for disaster. Why on earth would these clients ever listen to some guy half their age AND size who looks like he came from the Far East? He most likely knows nothing about the kinds of lives these men and women are struggling through and won't be able to offer them jack. Now these are very valid questions.

These were some of the questions running through my mind weeks before my first class. I was able to answer some of them which gave me slight comfort. In terms of me having minimal actual job experience, I realized that school itself is like a job. No I wouldn't be able to answer specific questions about what it's like to work as a metal welder, but I would be able to shed light on what it takes to lead others, accomplish goals, and work in teams. In fact, the skills that it takes to be successful on the job are the skills that it takes to be successful in LIFE. And yes I do consider that I've had some level of success in my life that validates why I might deserve to be teaching these clients.

However, just because I convinced myself of an answer didn't mean that I felt 100% confident going in to my first class. During my bike ride to the place where I teach, I kept thinking, "So in 20 minutes I'll be teaching.... So in 10 minutes I'll be teaching... OH MY GOD."

Well it came down to 0 minutes left, as I walked with my volunteer supervisor down the hall to my class. When she asked me if I was ready, I knew this was it. No more freaking out. I spent hours preparing my lesson the night before and I knew I got this. I tried to trick myself into thinking that I've taught this class for years now, which actually kind of worked.

"Hello everyone and welcome to class!"

The class itself was a little shaky, but by the end I was stoked out of my mind that I didn't fall flat on my face. The fact that none of my clients were sad, or angry at me was the equivalent of climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro. My volunteer supervisor gave me the lowdown on how she thought it went, listing things she thought I could add to my next lesson and that overall it was great. G-R-E-A-T. Frosted Flakes great. I couldn't believe it. Life was so sweet.

By now I've taught 7 lessons, and am in love with it. I've made many changes to my lesson plan to make it better than ever. Receiving compliments from the clients might just be the most amazing feeling in the world, knowing that I gave them something worthwhile.