This Tuesday, We Talk About Trust

Near the end of my teaching degree, as I finished my first of three semesters doing field experience at a high school, one of the teachers gave me a book called Tuesdays with Morrie. It takes place over thirteen Tuesdays, wherein Mitch—the author—visits his former professor, Morrie, who has a fatal case of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS). Knowing his professor's time is limited, Mitch rekindles their old friendship in what he calls his professor's “last course.” Though ironically I got a copy at the end of my junior year, Tuesdays was the final book assigned to seniors at this high school, meant to help them think about the great lessons they will learn as they enter adulthood, or rather, the classroom of life—forgiveness, regrets, family, love, and so on.

There is a passage in the chapter “The Second Tuesday” where Mitch recounts an exercise Morrie had his class do: trust falls. Only one person in the class succeeds, closing her eyes and falling back into the arms of her assigned partner. 

In response to her fall, Morrie says: “You see, you closed your eyes. That was the difference. Sometimes you cannot believe what you see, you have to believe what you feel.” 

Each lesson in Tuesdays was meant to be evocative. It was meant to open your eyes. As I read that passage, all I could think was: I could never do that with a total stranger!

After all, I found it hard to trust the one person I should: myself.

Let’s Dial It Back a Few Years

“Are you sure?”

Everyone hears this question in their life, and they’ll find themselves asking it, too. As you and the people around you grow, the implications of this question—and what it can do—grow as well. Are you sure you need that toy? Are you sure about the date of the final test? Are you sure you’re not mad at me after what I said?

It’s an innocent question. It’s important, even, giving us a way to check in with ourselves and verify information. But it can become a problem if you second guess every little thing. Soon, you won’t be sure if you can trust yourself or not.

Growing up, I had a combination of experiences that led to this issue. One of these was the way I made friends. Being a perpetual “new kid,” I learned that the best and easiest way to get in the good graces of a pre-established friend group was to agree with whatever they said. Sometimes, it felt okay—we agreed on our favorite shows, like Lulu Caty or SpongeBob. Other times, it felt wrong to agree, like you’re pushing back on your own beliefs, your memories, and on yourself. But it felt worse to disagree. Disagreeing, you’d be met with, “It’s not that serious,” or “That never happened—you’re imagining things.” Agreeing, you’re met with smiles. Friends. Acceptance.

So, just be a people pleaser and you’re set, kid.

People pleasing has its own host of ramifications—it can come off as inauthentic, for example, and over time, it can negatively affect your relationships with others through resentment and pent-up frustration. What’s also important, though, is how it impacts your relationship with yourself. Through my secondary school and early college years, one of the ways this manifested was with trust issues. I would find myself checking and rechecking information I knew was a fact. If someone innocently asked me if I was certain about the date of an event, I felt a jolt of fear, suddenly unsure of a circled date in a calendar that I looked at every day. 

When I made decisions, I did my best to thoroughly research them and make sure they aligned with my goals. However, if someone questioned me, I would ruminate over them. Instead of having the confidence to say, “Yes, this is why I am making this decision!”, I would go silent. My brain revisited the question over and over, considering the many ways I could have just single-handedly taken an axe to my life.

Back to the Present(ish)

As I mentioned earlier, the final semester of my teaching program was field experience. Though I had completed two already, they were “labs” more than anything: a way for me to conduct some lessons, use strategies from Teach Like a Champion, and get to know students. This last semester was the real deal; for 15 weeks, I was the main teacher of the room, planning and conducting every lesson, grading, participating in professional development, and so on. While the supervising teacher was present, she was only to observe and offer feedback on my improvement. I was on my own.

I knew my students well, and since I had been teaching full lessons more and more often, it wasn’t too jarring to take on this role. The issue, though, was the nagging doubts that would cloud my brain every time I made a decision. What was tougher was that I now had a direct hand in almost 200 students’ futures. Would the lessons be beneficial and hit all the state standards? Would I be able to support my students in case of an emergency or a personal crisis? Would I be a good teacher?

These whirling thoughts weren’t just anxiety over this new responsibility or the apprehension of my looming graduation. Rather, it was a total lack of trust in myself. I knew how to navigate the classroom. I knew how to deliver a lesson. I knew how to work with my students. But there was always that voice in the back of my head whenever I took the step forward to do something I thought was right: “Are you sure?”

This came to a head on the first day I took over the classroom, when the Chromebook that fed the projector was being buggy and slow. It had been on for almost a month straight, and having a background in IT, I knew the magic fix. Yes, it’s a cliche—turn it on and off again. I knew this for an absolute fact. I had worked in technology for three years and had dealt with cases far more complicated than this. But still, I froze. There was that little voice: “Are you sure? What if you break it? What if you’re overreacting and it just needs some time to get back into shape? What if it was always like this?”

The supervising teacher ended up fixing it herself, doing just what I would have. After the debacle, she pulled me aside and said this: “This is your classroom. You need to make these decisions. I wouldn't give you responsibility over these students and this room if I didn’t trust you.” 

It was then that I realized this was something I needed to work on, big time. I needed to have faith in my past experiences, my knowledge, and my values. I needed, more than anything, to have faith in myself. Sitting down at my desk during lunch, I was reminded of the iconic scene from Into the Spiderverse, where Miles Morales asks Peter Parker, “When will I know I'm ready?” 

Peter’s famous reply: “You won't. It's a leap of faith. That's all it is, Miles. A leap of faith.”

And Miles never knew. Just like I didn’t know. 

He just jumped. So, I should too.

On to the Future

While it is through career training that I made the first step to practicing self-trust, the scope of trusting yourself isn’t limited to a job. I certainly found that trusting myself more helped me be a better teacher in the school I work at now; I've been able to offer opinions on things I'd never trust myself to do before, such as curriculum.

But most importantly, it also prevented me from abandoning the things I believed in—my research, my interdisciplinary work, and my desires for the future—despite being questioned. It's still a process, and I still hear that voice. However, it's becoming more of a tactic to help me think my decisions through instead of constantly doubting them.

We are all perpetually in a bildung, a lifelong journey of self-exploration and development. To keep growing through life, trust in yourself is critical. When you trust yourself, you are:

• Constantly reaffirming your values and decisions

• Subconsciously letting yourself know that what you decide to do has importance

• Building the confidence to ardently fight for, and engage in, the things that fulfill you and the things you believe in

Like everything, this has nuance; listening to others’ perspectives is important to this journey of growth, too. After all, growth is not something you do alone. You just need to have the trust in yourself to know which perspectives are honest critiques that water the ground of your continued growth, and which serve to cut you back instead.

As we close, let us revisit Morrie one more time in “The Tenth Tuesday,” where he leaves us with this reminder: “The big things—how we think, what we value—those you must choose yourself. You can't let anyone—or any society—determine those for you.”

Those big things? They’re the hopes, thoughts, and dreams that carry you forward, even if they may hide under a blanket of doubt and worry.

Most of all, they’re you. It's just time to embrace yourself, trust yourself, and leap.

So, no matter how many times we hear those three little words—“Are you sure?”—with tones kind and derisive alike, try, even just once, to work up the confidence to respond with three of your own: “Yes, I am.”

About the Author

Safiyya Bintali is an educator, writer, and illustrator. Her work has been featured in Pictura Journal, Las Vegas Writes, Bridge Eight Press, and the UK-based curriculum company, The Stepping Stone Kids®, among others. In addition to teaching middle and high school English, she also guest lectures on comics and publishing. In her free time, she enjoys reading (especially thrillers) and video games. You can find more of her work on her website at www.safiyyabintali.com