Teaching Internship Diaries in the Philippines: Is this really for me?

Hi, hivers! It's Zimmie. I'd like to ask one thing: How do you know if something is meant for you? Dreams, perhaps?  Most people have a lot to say about their dreams. But I am not like most people. I don't have a dream. Well, maybe, to have a purpose?  This is my first-day off-campus internship as a pre-service teacher. My mentor or the assigned teacher I'm partnered with was not around on my first day, but she was the library-in-charge, which explains why I'm surrounded by dusty books and shelves.  I travel while the moon is still out at 5:00 AM to get to 6:15 AM class without rushing. I had to be early since I live 30 minutes away from my assigned school. It's refreshing since I'm not really a morning person, and this schedule enables my body to be active again during early mornings. But also draining since I'm not a morning person, therefore, I stay up late at night. I would only have 3-4 hours of sleep during my first few weeks. And I'm a literal owl with my baggy eyes.  Walking alone, with the early morning breeze kissing my skin, I begin contemplating my life decisions. Am I really meant for this? Do I really want this? Did I really dream of being in this situation? When did it start to feel heavy?  I had my teaching demonstration while having a cough and cold. I was losing my voice, I had to use a lapel microphone in class.  And then I saw the students. I heard them cheer, laugh at my examples, and give the correct answers to my questions. When I asked, 'Did you learn something today?' They'd say, 'A lot.' Right then and there, all the exhaustion and pain magically healed. I found myself already looking forward to the next day of my lecture with them. I carefully studied my lesson to make it easier for them to understand. I suddenly wanted to make sure they learned and truly understood the lesson. What has gotten into me?  One time, I was so demotivated that I even rethought whether my decisions were right. I was also affected by how certain students were difficult to handle. But what is this? Why do I feel fulfilled?  Why do the dusty shelves in the library don't bother me anymore?  How did I return to reading to keep my sanity despite the struggle? Perhaps I have found purpose in both my personal and academic/professional worlds. I guess that's the key—finding purpose is the only drive to keep me headstrong. After all, it's my only dream. How about you, dear hivers? What's your dream?