Final Version May 5 07

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of completing my education and realizing my goal of becoming a teacher, I was leaving
home and getting married, taking an uncharted path. I could not afford to attend another
year of school for what, at the time, I considered a pointless certificate.
I needed to earn a living and found work as a secretary. The role was unfulfilling;
again, I felt my voice was stifled. For me, this experience highlighted another link
between gender and power. I felt powerless and without voice as I followed the orders of
male supervisors. With the birth of my first child, the focus on wages gave way to the
demands of parenthood, and I became a stay-at-home mother.
Learning to become a parent was the most difficult life assignment to date for me.
When I had two children, ages 3 and 1 respectively, and was in the midst of my struggle
with what would be my most significant role in life, I felt powerless and voiceless with
my own children. They were making their voices heard, exerting their power and I was
overwhelmed; our voices were in competition.
Becoming an early childhood educator.
As a result of this state of affairs with my children, I became preoccupied with
being a good parent and sought resources and advice from others. During this process, I
discovered that I could enroll in a diploma program in early childhood education at the
local community college which would provide not only some immediate answers to
parenting dilemmas, but in time, employment as a teacher. I returned to my calling,
moving once again towards the labyrinth’s centre. In retrospect, this was a pivotal event
in the journey to teach; a life force had interjected to once again open a path.
It was on the first night of the first course; Child Development, that I looked up at
the teacher as she read from her lecture notes and contemplated the future, clearly seeing