A Year of Words:

As 2024 comes to a close, I find myself reflecting on the journey that has led me here. It's the final day of the year, and I feel as though I’m standing at a crossroads — a moment where the past meets the future, and every word in this last reflection carries the weight of lessons learned, challenges faced, and victories that, while they may have seemed small, were truly significant. As a writer and English lecturer, I often urge my students to reflect on their journeys, not just with nostalgia but with clarity, recognizing those moments of change as real opportunities for growth.

For me, 2024 was a transformative year, shaping me not only as an educator but also as an individual. It resembled the classic narrative arcs we explore in literature — a journey filled with challenges, personal growth, and enlightening moments. Although I have spent much of my life immersed in literature, this year imparted a crucial lesson: that stories, whether they are personal or universal, serve as the anchors that keep us steady amid life's chaos.

### The Power of Small Changes: The Year That Began with Doubt

In January, I was uncertain about what the year would bring. On the surface, everything seemed fine. I had a stable position as an English lecturer at a university, a love for literature, and a routine that felt predictable. However, beneath it all, there was a persistent sense of dissatisfaction I couldn’t shake. I felt as if I were going in circles, merely going through the motions without a deeper sense of purpose. My students were thriving, engaging, and absorbing knowledge in ways that filled me with pride, yet I was losing sight of what I truly wanted to share with them: a sense of meaning.

The year began with a cloud of uncertainty, and it often felt like I was searching for a thread in the maze of my life that could guide me out of this haze. I reflected on the reasons I became a writer and a teacher in the first place — because I believed.

I began my journey as a writer and teacher because I genuinely believed in the transformative power of stories. However, at some point, I lost that vision. My attention shifted to deadlines, grading, and preparing lectures — the mechanics of teaching — rather than the art of connecting with students through stories that could change their perspectives.

The desire for change started to awaken within me when I looked inward. It may seem simple now, but for me, it felt like an act of rebellion. I had invested so much energy in others — my students, my colleagues, my responsibilities — that I neglected my own need for growth and renewal. I began to ask myself: what kind of story do I want to live? How can I reshape my narrative to reflect the values I want to share with others?

The realization struck me: I needed to reclaim my role as the main character in my own story. And like any good protagonist, I had to confront the challenges that would promote my growth.

The Challenge: Embracing the Uncertainty of Change

As the year progressed, I noticed a series of small, seemingly insignificant changes taking place. I started to view my routine not as a checklist of tasks but as a canvas for creativity. I began to experiment with my lectures, incorporating more personal anecdotes and revealing the “why” behind the literature we studied. I encouraged my students to reflect on the stories they encountered, not just as literary works but as mirrors of their own lives. I wanted them to grasp that the themes in the writings of Shakespeare, Austen, and Orwell were not merely historical artifacts, but vibrant ideas that resonate with the challenges we face today.

One day, while discussing Frankenstein with my class, I shared my own experience with failure — a time when I felt like I had built something only to see it fall apart. In my late twenties, I had poured my heart into writing a novel, convinced it would be my breakthrough. But when it was rejected by publishers, I felt adrift.

The very foundation of my self-worth had been shaken. It took years for me to return to writing, and even longer to share my work again. I had to come to terms with the idea that rejection was not an end, but part of the journey — a crucial chapter in my growth.

To my surprise, this small moment of vulnerability sparked a deep conversation with my students. They began to share their own stories of failure, rejection, and perseverance. We found common ground in our struggles, and I could see how these experiences were shaping them, just as they had shaped me. That moment was the first sign that I was on the right path — not just teaching literature but sharing the human experience through storytelling.

As I continued to embrace change, I began to realize something profound. I had been so focused on the idea of “success” as a straight line, but life wasn’t linear — it was cyclical, messy, and unpredictable. Just as every novel has its plot twists and every hero faces moments of doubt and failure, so too did my life and career. There was no clear path, but there was growth. And perhaps, that’s what I had overlooked in my earlier discontent — the beauty of growth that occurs when we accept the messiness of life.

The Revelation: Rediscovering Purpose Through Connection

Midway through the year, I encountered another turning point — one that highlighted how deeply connected we all are through our stories. It happened after a lecture on The Great Gatsby. I had been reflecting on the theme of unattainable dreams, and I found myself telling my students that I, too, had once been fixated on a particular dream. But as I shared more about my own struggles, I felt a sense of emotional release. I had spent years shielding myself from vulnerability, from sharing my doubts and fears, because I believed that to be a teacher, I had to have it all together. But in that moment, I realized that my students didn’t need a perfect, flawless figure to look uthey needed someone genuine to help them navigate their own uncertainties.

In the days that followed, several students reached out to express their gratitude for my honesty. They mentioned feeling seen and heard in a way they hadn’t experienced before, and many opened up about their own struggles — topics they had never felt comfortable discussing with anyone else. I realized that by sharing my own experiences, I had created a space for their voices to be heard as well. In telling my story, I had unintentionally encouraged them to share theirs.

It was a significant moment that transformed my approach to teaching. I stopped trying to be the perfect authority on the texts we studied and instead focused on fostering a dialogue. I began to see that every person, whether student or teacher, is both a storyteller and a listener. The classroom evolved into a space of mutual exchange, where we learned not only from the books but also from each other’s lived experiences.

This experience taught me that stories, in all their forms, are essential to the human experience. They serve as bridges between us, helping us understand ourselves and one another. When we share our stories — our struggles, dreams, failures, and successes — we forge connections that go beyond the surface and touch the core of what it means to be human.

The Lesson: Growth Through Connection and Vulnerability

As the year comes to an end, I find myself reflecting on the lessons I’ve learned. Above all, I’ve realized that growth is not a solitary journey. It is shaped through connection, the sharing of stories, and the courage to be vulnerable. The narratives we tell — whether about our victories or our challenges — shape the world we inhabit. And it’s through these stories that we grow, not just as individuals but as a community.

In 2024, I discovered that teaching isn’t merely about imparting knowledge; it’s about creating an environment where stories can unfold, allowing both.p to.Teaching is more than just imparting knowledge; it’s about creating a space where stories can flourish, enabling both teachers and students to evolve together. It requires embracing change, taking risks, and recognizing that we don’t need to have all the answers. As I look toward 2025, I cherish the idea that every story, no matter how small, contributes to the larger narrative of our lives.

The lessons from the past year have shown me that we are all, in our own ways, works in progress. Perfection isn’t the goal — what truly matters is being genuine, sharing our journeys, and being open to the stories of others. Ultimately, it’s these narratives that help us make sense of the world and find meaning in our paths.

So, as you take a moment to reflect on your own year, I encourage you to consider the stories you’ve lived, the lessons you’ve learned, and the connections you’ve formed. Every moment, every obstacle, every achievement has woven into your unique story. And as you get ready to embrace 2025, remember that your story is still being written — and you are the one shaping it.