In October 2023, I did something unexpected—I enrolled in a graduate program, 21 years after earning my undergraduate degree. Now, as I wrap up the final stretch—student teaching this fall and graduation on the horizon—I’ve found myself reflecting not just on the journey, but on why I started it in the first place.

The decision wasn’t sudden. It developed over time into a slow-burning conviction, rooted in something I’ve carried for most of my life: a deep love for history and social studies. That spark, I can trace all the way back to seventh grade.

Mr. England was the first teacher who truly inspired me. He introduced me to the Model U.N. program. As junior high students (not yet called middle school), we couldn’t participate directly, but we could serve as pages for the high schoolers. Even then, I was drawn to the idea of diplomacy, critical thinking, and global awareness. That experience planted a seed.

Later, in high school, that spark caught fire. Mr. Touchberry, my honors world history teacher, didn’t just teach a subject—he lived it. His enthusiasm was contagious, and it made the past feel alive. I continued with Model U.N. under his mentorship—not just because of the content, but because of the atmosphere he created: one of curiosity, seriousness, and respect. I didn’t know it then, but the way he taught would become a quiet blueprint in the back of my mind.

Those classrooms shaped me. They didn’t just inform my interests—they revealed what good teaching could be. And now, two decades later, I’m preparing to step into that same role.

Going back to school in my mid-40s wasn’t the easiest decision. I was 45 when I started, balancing family, work, and life—all while re-learning how to be a student again. But it felt right. It felt like finally answering a call I’d heard years ago.

Now that my coursework is complete, student teaching is the final step. I received an invitation to attend the graduation ceremony in Phoenix this October—Grand Canyon University’s big in-person celebration. I may not be able to make the trip from Georgia, but that’s okay. The real celebration will be standing at the front of a classroom, sharing the subject I love with students who might discover that same spark.

I know the challenges ahead. Teachers are leaving the profession in record numbers, and I’m entering it with my eyes wide open. But maybe that’s exactly why I’m choosing it now. Because students still need guides who believe in history—not just the facts, but the stories, the lessons, the connections—and who believe in them.

Starting a new career at this point in life isn’t about catching up. It’s about showing up. It’s about using everything I’ve learned—not just from books, but from life—and offering it to the next generation.

So, if you’re reading this and wondering if it’s too late to begin again, let me say this: it’s not. Whether you’re 25 or 55, there is no expiration date on purpose. There is no deadline on becoming who you’re meant to be. The only thing that’s too late is never trying at all.

As for me, I may be starting this chapter later than most—but I’m ready. And I can’t wait to see where it leads.