I didn’t start out as a teacher.
I studied political science and later switched to journalism. For years, I worked in business publications — but not covering big corporations or financial markets. I wrote about small business startups — people building something from nothing with limited resources and a lot of courage.
When I moved to Australia, something shifted. I became interested in working with children directly—not just writing about them. I wanted to understand how they learn and how to create meaningful experiences for them.
I started with a Certificate III in Early Childhood Education. That gave me a foundation. I spent two years working as an educator and pedagogical leader. During this time, I guided programs and supported other educators.
After that, I enrolled in a Graduate Diploma in Early Childhood Education — a postgraduate degree. A year of study, multiple placements, and weeks of hands-on practice. I finished with strong results — distinction and high distinction — and a high GPA.
I was officially a qualified, registered teacher in Australia.
But inside, I felt like a fraud.
“Who am I to teach children?”
“I’m just a mum. What do I really know?”
My first job after graduating was in a French kindergarten. I worked alongside an experienced French-speaking teacher who was a natural with children. She wasn’t a registered teacher, but I was. Still, I felt like I was standing in her shadow.
I supported the program and worked with the children, but that voice kept whispering:
“You’re not a real teacher.”
“You’re just helping. That’s not the same as leading.”
And one day, I said it out loud.
“Maybe this isn’t for me.”
She turned to me and asked,
“Why would you say that?”
I didn’t know how to answer. I didn’t realise then that this was impostor syndrome. It is the feeling that I didn’t really belong, despite all the evidence to the contrary.
The Monster Tightens Its Grip
Years passed. I gained experience and eventually became an educational leader, designing programs and guiding other educators. Objectively, I was succeeding.
But the impostor syndrome was still there.
I remember leading an excursion with the centre director, who had worked in early childhood education for decades. I said, almost without thinking:
“Real educators work here.”
She gave me a sharp look.
“What do you mean?”
And I realised: I was the educator.
I was running the program.
I was qualified.
I had the experience.
If I wasn’t a real teacher, then who was?
But even then, the feeling didn’t disappear. That voice still surfaced:
“You got lucky.”
“Sooner or later, they’ll figure out you don’t really know what you’re doing.”
The Turning Point
The shift came gradually.
I started reading about impostor syndrome. I realised that this feeling — the fear of being exposed — was common among highly competent people. It wasn’t proof that I was unqualified; it was proof that I was growing.
I started to see my self-doubt as a strength.
• It made me more reflective as a teacher.
• It pushed me to research new approaches.
• It kept me focused on improving, growing, and questioning my practice.
That’s when I realised:
Impostor syndrome wasn’t my weakness—it was my secret weapon.
Just like Frodo in The Lord of the Rings, when others doubted him because he was “just a hobbit.” The very thing that seemed to make him unfit for the task was exactly what made him succeed.
My self-doubt wasn’t proof that I didn’t belong. It was the reason I worked so hard to be better. It made me a better teacher — more attuned to the needs of my students, more committed to learning and improving.
Living with the Monster
The voice didn’t disappear entirely.
Even now, it still whispers sometimes:
“What if you’re not good enough?”
“What if this isn’t enough?”
But the difference is that now I know how to answer it.
“Yes, maybe I’m not perfect. But I’m willing to keep learning.”
“Yes, I have doubts. But that doesn’t mean I’m not qualified.”
I know now that growth and self-doubt aren’t opposites — they feed each other. My insecurity made me a better teacher because it made me reflective, humble, and open to change.
And if that’s what makes me a “real teacher” — then so be it.
Why It Matters
Impostor syndrome isn’t a flaw to be fixed — it’s a sign that you’re growing.
• If you feel like you don’t belong, it’s because you’re pushing into new territory.
• If you doubt yourself, it’s because you care about doing it right.
If you can stop letting that fear control you, you might discover that your monster isn’t an enemy. Instead, start letting it drive you forward.
It’s a teacher.