Sitting in the Student Seat

Sitting in the Student Seat

🌼 Date: Friday, August 21, 2026

⚡ Energy: First aid class, but make it emotionally weird

💖 Status: Driver, not instructor

🧐 Outlook: Learning how to sit in the room differently

Today I had to take a first aid class.

As a driver.

Not as an instructor.

And let me tell you, that was a whole different feeling.

I am used to being the one up front.

The one leading the discussion.

The one explaining the steps.

The one giving examples.

The one answering questions.

The one watching the room and knowing who is confused, who is paying attention, who is pretending to pay attention, and who is mentally already at lunch.

That used to be my spot.

Front of the room.

Marker in hand.

Instructor brain fully activated.

But today?

Today I sat with everyone else.

I raised my hand.

I waited to be called on like one of the normal people.

Which felt weird.

Very weird.

Because I already knew the answers.

That is not me bragging.

Okay, maybe a little.

But also, I did this.

I taught this.

I lived in this world.

First aid, training, safety, procedures, emergency situations, classroom flow — that has been my lane for years.

So sitting there quietly while someone else led the class felt like wearing shoes on the wrong feet.

Technically possible.

Deeply uncomfortable.

And yes, I had to fight the urge to jump in.

I had to fight the urge to add context.

I had to fight the urge to explain something a different way.

I had to fight the urge to become instructor Tina out of pure muscle memory.

Because that is not my role anymore.

And that is the part that hit me.

This was not just a first aid class.

This was another little reminder that I stepped down.

I am not the trainer now.

I am not the person in charge of the room.

I am not the one responsible for making sure everyone else understands.

I am just a driver.

There is that word again.

Just.

And again, being a driver is not small.

Driving a school bus full of kids is not easy.

It is not simple.

It is not unimportant.

It takes skill.

Patience.

Awareness.

Strength.

Judgment.

A working nervous system.

And the ability to check twelve things at once while a child asks if you can smell the banana in their backpack.

So no, there is nothing “just” about being a bus driver.

But emotionally, after five years as a trainer, it still feels strange.

It feels like standing outside a house I used to live in.

I know where everything is.

I know which floorboards creak.

I know how the lights work.

I know where the coffee mugs are.

But I do not live there anymore.

And today, sitting in that class, I could feel that.

The old Tina would have been up front.

The old Tina would have been leading.

The old Tina would have been in charge.

The old Tina would have taken pride in being needed.

The old Tina would have said yes, stayed late, answered the extra questions, carried the extra load, and gone home exhausted but convinced she had done the right thing.

Tina 2.0 is learning something different.

She is learning how to sit down.

She is learning how to not take over.

She is learning how to let someone else carry the room.

She is learning that knowing the answer does not mean she has to be responsible for everyone else.

Do you know how annoying that lesson is?

Very.

Extremely.

Ten out of ten, would not recommend, but apparently necessary.

Because cancer changed my relationship with being needed.

I used to think being needed meant I mattered.

Now I am learning that I matter even when I am not the one everyone turns to.

I matter sitting in the chair.

I matter raising my hand.

I matter quietly knowing the answer without proving it.

I matter as a driver.

I matter at home.

I matter when I rest.

I matter when I say no.

I matter even when I am no longer standing at the front of the class.

That is a hard shift.

But maybe it is a good one.

Maybe this is part of closing that chapter.

Not the dramatic part where I cleaned off my desk and took everything off the wall.

Not the big emotional moment where five years of work ended up in boxes and bags.

This was quieter.

Sneakier.

Just me sitting in first aid class as a student, realizing I was not where I used to be.

And surprisingly, the world did not end.

The class still happened.

The information still got taught.

People still learned.

The room kept moving without me leading it.

Rude.

But also freeing.

Because maybe I do not have to carry everything.

Maybe I do not have to be the answer person all the time.

Maybe I can sit in the regular people seats and survive.

Maybe I can let someone else be in charge.

Maybe I can save that energy for myself.

For healing.

For Casey.

For the puppies.

For writing.

For rebuilding.

For the life I fought like hell to keep.

Today, I took first aid as a driver.

Not as an instructor.

I knew the answers.

I raised my hand.

I waited to be called on.

I sat in the chair.

I let someone else lead.

And even though it felt strange, maybe that was the point.

Another little piece of Tina 2.0 settling into place.

Not less capable.

Not less valuable.

Not less smart.

Just less willing to give every ounce of herself away because a room exists and someone might need her.

Today I sat down.

And honestly?

That may have been the lesson I needed most.

---

Want to follow the journey from the beginning?
Visit Tiny Tina – Status: Alive (Daily Check-Ins) to see the full timeline of posts.

If you’d like to be notified when a new post goes live, you can subscribe below for free and get an email each time I publish a new entry.

💗 Tina –
One Badass Day at a Time