One year on

I decided to pursue National Board Certification at the last minute, on a whim. I don't admit this to anyone, however. Things didn't start on a good note - I had to go several rounds with the state about funding my candidacy. I had days where I wanted to give up because I felt I was so far behind. I didn't feel like I understood the process, that I had no focus. I'm a procrastinator, and that certainly didn't help any. I was afraid of failure. The "pass rate" is around 30% for first year candidates. I had a lot of internal conflict over that one. The numbers just weren't in my favor.
I walked down that lonesome road by myself, to quote James Taylor. I had no mentors, no experts to read my entries or watch my videos. I read what other certified teachers and candidates had to say online, but never offered my thoughts or asked for help. I figured I'd succeed alone, or fail alone. The support I received didn't come from my school system or from fellow teachers. It came instead from my online friends. People I'd never met before in my life, people who were words on a computer screen kept my spirits up, kept me going, and motivated me daily.
My spring break was consumed with working on my portfolio entries. I worked up until the last minute of the last possible day. My mother helped me packed my box on the way. I had nothing but my debit card and my driver's license with me, as I had locked my mother's purse and my own purse in my car, with the keys still inside. Daddy drove through the country at 70 miles an hour. I think it's the only time in my 34 years of life that my mother did not tell him to slow down. We reached the nearest Fed Ex store, 45 miles away, 15 minutes before the shipping deadline. My mother took a picture of me with the box before we sent it off. It will *not* be posted here - I had on no makeup and had done nothing to my hair. We all gave a sigh of relief.
About two months later, on the next to last day of the testing window, I took the computer-based assessment exercises. I had prepared somewhat for the assessment center, but I could have done more. I left thinking I'd done an OK job.
Then the wait began. I waited from late June until mid November to find out my scores. The more I thought about my portfolio (the part that is weighted heaviest), the more I knew I had not certified. I remembered things I should have put in that I didn't, things I should have said, things I should have clarified. So in the weeks prior to score release, I told myself that I wouldn't certify. That it would be OK, that it's a three year process just like everyone says, and that I'd know more about what I was doing for my retakes. I couldn't entertain any possibility that I might certify, because if I didn't, then I'd be heartbroken. So as bad as it sounds, it was much easier to think negatively.
I was probably one of very few teachers who went to school on score release day. Most stay at home so they can rejoice or fall to pieces in private. I watched the clock, anxious for 9 a.m. to arrive. I made sure my students had some seatwork as the clock ticked closer and closer. My hands shook. I typed in my login information - no dice, it was too early. I got up, walked around the classroom, and tried again. Too early. But the clock on my computer said 9:01! I tried again, and the login was accepted. And the "in progress" blue bar at the bottom of the IE screen crept and crept and crept more slowly than I'd ever seen it move in my life. You'd never have known it was a T1 connection. I think I stopped breathing. And then the page loaded. And this is what I saw:

I gasped. Tears formed in my eyes. I didn't believe it. I fanned myself. One of my students whispered "She's crying" to the others. One asked "Did Archie die?" and I reassured them that Archie, in fact, was quite OK. I told the class I had good news, and you can cry at good news. A precious fellow asked in all earnesty, "Did Carolina win?" and the spell was broken. It allowed me to laugh and cry at the same time and nine months of tension was released.
I called my parents, and then my principal, and sent text messages to my three biggest supporters, within about 20 minutes. My principal surprised me at lunch with a bouquet of flowers and a "Congratulations" balloon. The whole cafeteria cheered and applauded. She announced my accomplishment over the intercom that afternoon.
It was the beginning of a new phase of my career, one that has continued to change, even a year later. I didn't see it then, but the NB process was preparing me for the future in ways I hadn't dreamed.