week 29 and 30 9/26/2012

So I have to combine the last two weeks.  I want to say that I have been busy, but the truth is…I have been hiding away~avoiding some things.   I am not typically an “avoider,” but I actually heard myself tell someone this week, “I just don’t care.”  It wasn’t about anything important, but I really did not care. AT ALL…

Lately, I have been-

Invisible

literally and figuratively. 

A few evenings ago when I was mulling over things in my usual obcessed fashion…I picked up my Oprah magazine.  It was all about advice.  One of the first things I flipped to said, “the first draft is not the final draft.”  This could not be more fitting for my journey this year. 

Since turning 40, I have really worked hard to embrace all that is happening—to my family, in my career, to my face (eek).  And I have stumbled so many times, but the best thing that has happened now that I am 40, is that I know ME.  I know that those stumbles are not a definition of me, but rather part of the path.  I know that I WILL get back up, and I KNOW that I will make better choices, better decisions, eliminate things that are not worth my time so I can focus on what matters. Halfway through this 40 thing, I KNOW myself.  I know what others don’t know yet.  I know that in 6 months, my life is going to completely different than it looks right now (and looking forward to seeing the view).  I know this because I KNOW I am WILLING to do the WORK to grow and change and evolve into a better me.  I know what it means to have to fight for something…to believe in myself more than anyone else because I answer to ME.  I know what others have yet to learn…that when things get handed to you-you don’t appreciate them-truly, deeply, in a lasting way.

I know what some others may have not figured out-just yet---when you want something badly enough, you don’t sit around and wish it, you make it.

My face may not look as smooth, but so far, 40 is becoming more and more beautiful to me…

week 28 of 40 9.10.12

I have been back to work for about 2 weeks now—the kids have been there for 4.

I started my last class (with the exception of the ongoing internship) 2 weeks ago.

My daughter will be 10 months old in 2 days.

My dad turned 60 today.

Yesterday was my 12^th wedding anniversary.

Time moves so quickly…at a rapid pace. It can bring such amazing joy…and at the same time bring confusion and disappointment…and then in a moment…in a flash-bring sorrow and pain…

In the past 12 months, I have experienced the single greatest day of my life, some of the darkest and quietest days of my career, and a grief I was not prepared for in any way…

In the past 6 months I have watched my friendships change, morph—take hits so hard, they left dents.  I have watched from the outside and felt it on the inside…and I wonder why. I wonder why?

In the past 3 months, I have finished 2 classes, started a third…watching the dollars go out the door –worrying I won’t complete all of the work—but worrying more about what I am learning…if I am learning…can I apply this new stack of words to my everyday life?

In the past 2 months, I have heard my daughter hum songs, grow more teeth (8 total), watched her almost take her first steps, seen her hair finally grow—long enough to blow in the gentle breeze…

In the past month, I was able to move into a new classroom, shiny, bright, clean…a room that overlooks the trees—so scenic-so beautiful, we call it the “treehouse”…what a gift to see my former students smile so brightly as they looked up, across the floors, out to the playground—

In the past month, I have heard a buzzing…one that almost stings.  A lack of graciousness, a lack of appreciation, an air of entitlement…A buzz I simply cannot comprehend-so I walk away, brush away the sound.

In the past few weeks, I have heard cheers of joy—my students singing their first Hang On Sloopy of 2^nd grade—I have seen a smile that brings me tears as I type—my daughter jumping in her crib when I say “good morning, Snugs,”-- I have felt a hug …the kind that fills your whole body-from my husband-who each day loves me through all of my “moments,”  --I have cried tear after tear, terribly, horribly missing my friend, forgetting she was gone until I was about to click SEND on the text I had typed to her about the sunny days we were having in Ohio

In the past few days, I have simply tried to enjoy and embrace the small moments—the yellow roses sent to school for my anniversary, a phone call with my best friend who told me to get another perm (jokingly), the 5 minutes my daughter laid on my chest, sucking her thumb quietly, sweetly on a Sunday morning (listening to her little breath…), the silly ways my husband told me Happy Anniversary (you are the worst avocado peeler ever, Happy Anniversary), the breeze from my moon roof on my car (Wendy, I know that is all you!), the old school Boyz II Men song that came on my ipod (On Bended Knee), grilled pizza, tomato pie, Barbera wine, seeing my mom get teary over her granddaughter, my new thicker bangs… and the quiet moment that I had on the way home this evening when I said to myself:  I don’t have it all, but I have what I want…what I need. And that is all.  

Time...

week 27 of 40

You are living your own story.  I saw this on Pinterest this morning (what a ridiculously addictive site of ideas – many of which we may pin and pin and never actually do anything with-ha ha).

I know that, for me, this sentence could not be truer.  You are living your own story. 

I am sitting here on a quiet Monday morning-which feels like a Sunday.  My husband and daughter are away, and I have had a lot of time to think, process, do, reflect…

It’s funny because each time, I get to the same answer.  This is the way I am doing it.  No apologies to anyone.

Tomorrow, I will begin my 9^th year as an elementary teacher.  If you are doing the math-me being 40 and only in my 9^th year doesn’t match according to society’s crazy timeline that states that everyone must begin his career at 23. More on that at a later time.

This year, I am switching to second grade.  If you ask me to my face how I feel about that, you will hear all kinds of excited expressions.  Here’s what I will say in this forum—I am ready for a change. *That* is the truth.

The thing about teaching is that you have all these ideas and plans—places you want to take their little minds. My head swirls and swirls with all of the possibilities.  By definition, I am a planner. I like to plan, to lay things out, to match the outfit to the shoes. Yet, when I look back on who I was 9 years ago … I can see what pieces stayed, and I can see what pieces were left on the drawing room floor.

I still love the first moment a child looks into your eyes—with trust—the kind of trust no adult will ever show you—a child will look at you with absolute conviction that you, the teacher, know everything about anything. Yet, with that comes a responsibility that I will liken to being a parent.  So, now that I am a parent, I can say for those who aren’t…that look that a child gives you—well, that is a lot of what I feel inside now, all the time. *That* is the incredible feeling I have spoken about.  *That* is the best way to describe it.…  J

I still love the moment when a reluctant child—the one who is afraid to try—achieves the seemingly impossible. It is a twinkle, a glow, a sparkle.  I am not sure what happens to us later in life—why we lose that special glitter because it is-in a word-beautiful.

I still love the excitement that children show for the smallest things—an extra recess, one more chapter of a favorite book, playing a quiz game, picture day, pizza day…

I still love the moments when I scrap every piece of the plan to paint, to read a favorite book, to play a game…or to take a nature walk when the seasons change. I still love when in the middle of a lesson, after hearing their ideas and thoughts, I look at the class, and say, “you know what we could do”…or “what if we….” …or “what do you think about…”

I love love love the moments when we all get the giggles.  When we have to just take 5 minutes to laugh it all out.

I will forever love the moments when a reader realizes, “I’m READING”…when the math problem finally makes sense “OHHHH, I get it!”, when the written story of a child makes me cry happy tears or makes another student cry happy tears.  I love when they congratulate and celebrate each other with such genuine generosity.

And at the end of the 178 days, they still look to you with that same trust. What a privilege, and honor, and a huge responsibility …

What did I let go of?  Perfect copies, scripted lessons, getting upset over a tray of magnetic letters dumped for the 5^th time, staying for hours and hours after school walking in circles trying to get it “right,” crooked word walls, trying to make everything the most creative (and forgetting the point), beating myself up when I know I did my best and still fell short….

All I have is my best.  If I want them to realize this and feel secure in the notion of trying, not giving up, of persevering , then I have to show it.

Every year, we make these little mottos to get us motivated.  Usually they just “come” to me.  I have had a wide range of mottos over the years…This year, mine is simple:  “I’m doing me.”  It means that I am trusting myself to do the best I can in all areas of my life—a life that is changing all the time. With so many pieces on my plate, I know that if I hold onto the things that matter the most to me, the rest can roll on the floor, and I don’t have to apologize to anyone for that.  

I am living my own story.