I was originally going to title this post “Return to Oz” and make obscure references to a traumatizing kids’ movie from 1985, but, then I realized the metaphor would go in the wrong direction. So I will keep my metaphorical framework within the realm of the original 1939 film instead. But I digress.

Last week’s Torah portion, or Parsha, was Parshat Lech Lecha, in which we see G-d call out to Avram (who became Abraham) and say, “Go forth! And I will make of you a great nation, as numerous as the stars.” Lech lecha, as it turns out, has a bit of a mistranslation issue, because it doesn’t actually mean, go forth; it means, go unto yourself. That’s hard to take literally, especially when the tales that follow describe his actual going forth in the desert and taking on the covenant with G-d, and eventually having his son Isaac, and so on. Still, Abraham didn’t just outwardly listen to G-d; he surely had to wrestle and reconcile with his understanding of himself and what he was meant to do and be. Going unto oneself, being self-reflective, must have been part of the process as much as if not more than that of packing up the tents and the sheep and schlepping it along. I would argue the internal piece was bigger, as Abraham did in fact have servants who could help with the heavy lifting.

The week before last, so, not for Parshat Lech Lecha but the one before it, I attended a former student’s bar mitzvah. He did a beautiful job and I got to see some of my former fifth grade students from three years ago, they’re a great bunch of kids. After services, during lunch, I sat with one of those kids’ parents and another couple; the wife of that couple happens to be the eighth grade English teacher of that kid. So they were talking about how well he’s doing and all the great things she’s doing in her classroom. And I found myself thinking, gosh, I want to be her when I grow up!

This thought took me greatly by surprise, considering I had been saying for months that I didn’t even know if I wanted to keep teaching. I have been struggling hard these last few months to feel like I’m actually cut out for it. Old demons came back to haunt me, with a vengeance. But suddenly, between hearing about her class and seeing my old students, it was tentatively on the table again.

That whole week, I had wrestled with the idea that I may need to return to care management/disability services if I don’t find a new job soon. That idea made me flat-out miserable. Despairing, blubbering to my therapist for a full hour miserable. And at the end of that hour of wretchedness, I finally somehow had an answer to the question people had asked me for months, the question I had never been allowed to ask myself and therefore never knew an answer to. I want to teach.

I want to teach.

Some friends that I’ve talked to in the last week or two about this decision have jokingly asked me if my husband has said he told me so yet. In the beginning, he urged me to follow through on my certification process and get on sub lists and all that. He finally backed off when I told him I didn’t want to spend money on something that I didn’t even know I wanted right now. To his credit, following this decision I’ve made, he has yet to say he told me so, though I wouldn’t blame him for thinking it.

You see, in “The Wizard of Oz”, when the Wizard leaves Oz in his hot air balloon and Dorothy is left behind, Glinda comes and asks her what she’s learned. Dorothy thinks on it and shares what she understands now about herself and her life and her heart. Finally then, now that she’s done this reflective work, Glinda tells her how she can get back home to Kansas, and all her friends say that’s so easy and they should have thought of it for her. But Dorothy had to figure it out for herself. She had to go on the journey and learn who she is and what she wants. Like Abraham, she had to go unto herself. So too, apparently, did I.

Now that I have gone unto myself and found the answers I was seeking, I have a clear path ahead of me. A yellow-brick road, so to speak. I just have to follow it. I don’t have any ruby slippers, but, neither did Abraham, did he?

A note about the cover photo for this post: I searched at length for a free-access photo of a yellow brick road, and was sorely disappointed (but steadfastly refuse to steal licensed images or use AI images, as matters of artistic principle). However, this road being lit golden-yellow by the sun has its own nice symbolism to it, so, ya know, close enough.