By Lena Mattice

Everyone has dreams. Some people chase them and see them come true, while others quietly set them aside. For some, dreams become goals with a plan. For others, they stay distant—things that feel just out of reach.

Twelve years ago, after fourteen years as a stay-at-home mom, I became a schoolteacher. Honestly, I didn’t set out to be a teacher—it was more about necessity. I needed to work, and I knew I needed to find a school that could teach me how to become the kind of teacher I was meant to be.

One night, feeling completely overwhelmed, I got down on my knees and asked Heavenly Father what I should do. I was in a really low place, unable to think clearly on my own. I knew that if I was going to make a real change in my life, I would need His guidance.

I looked through the newspaper and found a few job listings. One was a paraprofessional position—just three months long—at a school twenty minutes away. I figured it might be a good foot in the door. I applied, and to my surprise, they called me in for an interview. I was terrified walking into that room. But then I saw who was on the hiring committee: my husband’s uncle, and a former supervisor from when I did my student teaching. The moment they smiled at me, I could breathe again. I found my courage.

Two weeks passed with no word, so I assumed the job had gone to someone else. Then my uncle called: “Are you still interested in the job?” I said yes, even though I thought it had already been filled. It had been—but that person didn’t work out, and they were offering it to me. I started the next day.

Those three months were exactly what I needed to step back into the classroom. God placed me in that school so I could learn and grow from the third-grade teachers around me. I had a boss who was kind, patient, and committed to helping me succeed. The next year, I was assigned my own third-grade classroom—with some very tough students.

That same year, I heard about a local Rotary Club award: Teacher of Distinction, given to one educator at every school in the county. I remember thinking, I would love to be Teacher of the Year. But then the doubts crept in. I told myself I wasn’t a good teacher—that others would think I was conceited if I even tried for something like that. I had so much internal evidence that I wasn’t good enough… but, truthfully, I also had just as much proof that I was.

That fear—of confidence being mistaken for conceit—has followed me most of my life. I believed that if I ever received that kind of recognition, I would need to completely change who I was. But in 2019, something started to shift. I began telling myself, I am a good teacher. And when the old doubts surfaced, I’d push them aside and say:
“NO, I’m learning to be a good teacher.”

That same year, I had a strong prompting to get my master’s degree in Reading. It scared me—I hadn’t been in school in over 20 years. I had forgotten how to learn, and that terrified me. But I knew I needed help, so I called my sister Cindy. I knew if anyone could walk me through that fear, it was her. And out of love and kindness, she agreed. For the next year and a half, she helped me every step of the way. Finishing that degree was a huge steppingstone in becoming the teacher I dreamed of being.

Fast forward to 2021. I took Genius Bootcamp—twice—and started the self-paced Mindset Mastery course. Slowly, I began to understand the difference between confidence and conceit. I started learning the steps I needed to take to be a successful, impactful teacher. As spring rolled around, I found myself thinking about that Teacher of the Year award again. A quiet thought whispered, This could be your year. Doubt tried to wiggle in, but I told it, Of all the years—this one makes sense. I’ve grown. I’ve worked hard. I’ve earned it.

Around that same time in March, I casually set a tiny goal: to receive $100. It seemed random and small, but I wrote it down anyway.

Then came April. I was chatting with another teacher in her classroom when I noticed something out the window: the Superintendent, my boss, and a few other men were in the hallway, peering into my classroom. I stepped into the hall and asked, “Can I help you?” They laughed and said they were looking for me—but they needed a classroom with students. I wasn’t teaching at that moment because I was one-on-one testing for the end of the year, so we stepped into the nearest classroom with kids.

That’s where they handed me the Teacher of the Year award.

They also gave me a card with $150 inside—to use however I wanted, for me or my classroom. In that one, small, beautiful moment, both of my goals came true.

And the conceit I was so afraid of? It never showed up. Instead, I was filled with something entirely different: a desire to help others feel this same joy. I wanted every teacher in my school to experience that recognition—to know that they are good teachers. That their work matters. That they are capable of changing lives.

What I learned most that year is this:
Conceit focuses on yourself. Confidence focuses on those around you.

And now? I don’t just want to be a great teacher. I want to teach other teachers how to shift their mindset, too—so they can believe in their greatness, step into their purpose, and know beyond a doubt: You are a GREAT teacher.

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