I have had a job every summer since I turned 13. I started babysitting for a coworker of my mom's, her three kids, one a newborn. I loved it. I felt powerful and strong and in charge, and I loved having my own money.
From there I worked at a local bakery and gallery in Lindsborg, then at the Lindsborg Pizza Hut, then for my dad working construction, at an Applebees, as a telemarketer, at Barnes and Noble, at the Manhattan Public Library, for Lovewell in FL, for SYT in Lawrence. This year, though, I'm not working. Not officially, anyway. I'm redesigning the curriculum for all three of the classes all teach in the fall--20th Century Lit needs to be more contemporary, more diverse, Adv. American Lit needs to be streamlined, and I'm creating a course pack for American LIt that students can annotate as opposed to having them read from textbooks so packed with extra features that they often miss the text itself--and I'm planning to write. Really write. I want to do something with my writing, have always wanted to, and so it's time to make that a priority.
And, honestly, it's time to make myself a priority. I tend to throw myself into other peoples' projects, into work, into anything that distracts me from the here and now of my own life. Not because my life is so all fired terrible that I can't deal with it, but I tend to put everyone and everything else first. But, this summer, I want to settle and rest and focus and feel for myself. I think it's time.
To that end, this was my first day: woke up at 8, played with Z, read and emailed for a couple of hours, went to the pool for three hours where I read The Last Time I Saw You by Elizabeth Berg, picked up my last LAC paycheck, went to the bank, picked up new contacts, got gas, put away my laundry, played with Z, had dinner H & J, got yogurt from Orange Leaf, wandered CVS for thirty minutes, now watching old Law & Order SVU and blogging.
I was worried I wouldn't know what to do with myself this summer. Not really feeling all that concerned anymore. Up later this week: thrifting Thursday in KC with the girls, Samantha Crain & Langhorne Slim @ the Bottleneck Friday. It's good to be me.
31 May 2011
Good Friends
28 May 2011
Just Like Starting Over
Tomorrow is LHS graduation and, while I am very excited to work at it and to see all the graduates matriculate out into the next step of their lives, it will be bittersweet.
While endings are a cycle of life we all must learn to accept, it can be difficult when the action we have to take is painful, and not necessarily something we want to do so much as know we need to do.
When kids graduate, for many of them the posturing about being out of school masks a deeper fear of what comes next. The loudest celebrants are often the most insecure, singing the praises of the end of this chapter all while quaking at the prospects of what comes next.
As someone who went through a pretty serious ending herself this year, I have this advice: let yourself be afraid. Let yourself feel whatever it is you are feeling because burying it only makes it worse. And, embrace the changes that are coming. They are frightening, terrifying in fact, but they also mean something new and beautiful is on the way.
It's only when we have the courage to leave on situation--for whatever reason--that we learn what we are capable of in the next one. I believe in the power of change, of transformation, of the joy that can be borne from intense sorrow. I believe in it because it happened to me.
So, graduates, fellow travelers on the journey of life, here's to starting over, one step at a time.
While endings are a cycle of life we all must learn to accept, it can be difficult when the action we have to take is painful, and not necessarily something we want to do so much as know we need to do.
When kids graduate, for many of them the posturing about being out of school masks a deeper fear of what comes next. The loudest celebrants are often the most insecure, singing the praises of the end of this chapter all while quaking at the prospects of what comes next.
As someone who went through a pretty serious ending herself this year, I have this advice: let yourself be afraid. Let yourself feel whatever it is you are feeling because burying it only makes it worse. And, embrace the changes that are coming. They are frightening, terrifying in fact, but they also mean something new and beautiful is on the way.
It's only when we have the courage to leave on situation--for whatever reason--that we learn what we are capable of in the next one. I believe in the power of change, of transformation, of the joy that can be borne from intense sorrow. I believe in it because it happened to me.
So, graduates, fellow travelers on the journey of life, here's to starting over, one step at a time.
15 May 2011
Mom
Sometimes, all it takes is an hour face to face with my mom to make me feel like I'm normal again. No matter how scared or alone or out of control I feel, she knows me.
There isn't a day that goes by when I'm not thankful for her.
Today, I'm extra-thankful.
There isn't a day that goes by when I'm not thankful for her.
Today, I'm extra-thankful.
11 May 2011
08 May 2011
Because
Because she listened, I knew I had the right to speak.
Because she asked questions, I learned how to think.
Because she wasn't outgoing, she made sure I was.
Because she know the value of comic timing, I do, too.
Because she always told me I could, I never doubted myself.
Because she said I was beautiful, I grew to believe it.
Because she told me the truth, I learned the value of honesty.
Because she laughed more than she cried, I do, too.
Because she wanted to know me, I wanted to know her.
Because she kept her promises, I keep mine.
Because she believes in God, I understand the power of faith.
Because she wanted to be my friend, I wanted that, too.
Happy Mothers Day, Mama. I love you.
Because she asked questions, I learned how to think.
Because she wasn't outgoing, she made sure I was.
Because she know the value of comic timing, I do, too.
Because she always told me I could, I never doubted myself.
Because she said I was beautiful, I grew to believe it.
Because she told me the truth, I learned the value of honesty.
Because she laughed more than she cried, I do, too.
Because she wanted to know me, I wanted to know her.
Because she kept her promises, I keep mine.
Because she believes in God, I understand the power of faith.
Because she wanted to be my friend, I wanted that, too.
Happy Mothers Day, Mama. I love you.
05 May 2011
The Rules of Nature
For a few minutes this afternoon, the sky cracked open and dark clouds poured out their colors, streaky silver and grays that somehow made my grass greener, the inky indigo sky looked painted on, the world seemed to say, "Look at me, look at all this life, even now in the middle of a storm."
I've been thinking a lot about the last year, about how hard it was at times to get out of bed, to brush my teeth, to smile when all I wanted to do was cry and scream and wonder why things hadn't gone as I'd planned. I think the lesson I was supposed to learn--the lesson I am still learning--is that no matter what you think you want, what you need will, eventually, materialize. You just have to try not to resist it, to open yourself, to give up any and all semblance of control and just keep breathing.
The sky, this afternoon, didn't fight the storm, it opened itself to the rain, the thunder, the strange lightning that seemed to be right beyond my windows. And now, just a short time later, the sun is pushing through and the bright white edges of post-storm clouds are rubbing elbows with gray cousins, making way for light and dark because, as it turns out, the world big enough for both.
I don't always look up from my life long enough to see the miracle of mid-afternoon storm clouds. I did today, and for that I am thankful.
I hope you, dear reader find tim to close your eyes, to breathe, to accept that whatever storm is raging in will, if only by the sheer rules of nature, eventually end, and give way (I promise) to sun.
I've been thinking a lot about the last year, about how hard it was at times to get out of bed, to brush my teeth, to smile when all I wanted to do was cry and scream and wonder why things hadn't gone as I'd planned. I think the lesson I was supposed to learn--the lesson I am still learning--is that no matter what you think you want, what you need will, eventually, materialize. You just have to try not to resist it, to open yourself, to give up any and all semblance of control and just keep breathing.
The sky, this afternoon, didn't fight the storm, it opened itself to the rain, the thunder, the strange lightning that seemed to be right beyond my windows. And now, just a short time later, the sun is pushing through and the bright white edges of post-storm clouds are rubbing elbows with gray cousins, making way for light and dark because, as it turns out, the world big enough for both.
I don't always look up from my life long enough to see the miracle of mid-afternoon storm clouds. I did today, and for that I am thankful.
I hope you, dear reader find tim to close your eyes, to breathe, to accept that whatever storm is raging in will, if only by the sheer rules of nature, eventually end, and give way (I promise) to sun.
03 May 2011
Seriously. I'm good. I got this.
I am good at my job. No. Seriously. I am. A lot of people may say that and what they really mean is "I am good enough at my job to be able to get paid without actually expending much effort," but that's not me. I eat, sleep, and breathe teaching. I'm always thinking about ways to make the lessons I teach more engaging, I read all the time in an effort to keep my brain sharp and to try to find new works that might be of interest to my kids, I'm not afraid to try things beyond my comfort zone, and I love love love talking about what I do with like minded folk.
To that end, I work with amazingly passionate people. Two of my colleagues/friends and I serve on a committee that met today, and throughout the afternoon I caught myself several times thinking how awesome it is that I get to be in a job where I can say, "THESE are my colleagues." These guys--smart, funny, engaged, committed--are two of the best, and along with our cross town counterparts, we assembled today to do a job that really needed doing only to be derailed late in the game by a bombshell that sort of threw off all we had accomplished in the preceding three hours.
I am not angry at the woman who ran our meeting, I don't think she realized the late in the day information was as potentially game changing as it turned out to be (and yes, I realize I am being cryptic, but public education is taking a hit right now and I want to be careful). And, I think she means well. She advocates for us, wants us to get what we need to do our jobs effectively and efficiently, but the powers that be make that as hard for her to give to us as it is for us to get it.
So, today my question is this: should it seriously be this hard to do my job? Should I seriously have to spend hours and hours planning and drafting language about what should happen only to be told that all of it is contingent upon a maybe for next year, or that some of our assumptions have been altered due to the change of mind of outside parties? SERIOUSLY. This is teaching. This is education. I don't need committees and administrations and technology departments and textbook companies and the federal government an standardized tests and common core and state boards of education and angry local newspaper commentators to help me do my job.
I'm good.
I got this.
To that end, I work with amazingly passionate people. Two of my colleagues/friends and I serve on a committee that met today, and throughout the afternoon I caught myself several times thinking how awesome it is that I get to be in a job where I can say, "THESE are my colleagues." These guys--smart, funny, engaged, committed--are two of the best, and along with our cross town counterparts, we assembled today to do a job that really needed doing only to be derailed late in the game by a bombshell that sort of threw off all we had accomplished in the preceding three hours.
I am not angry at the woman who ran our meeting, I don't think she realized the late in the day information was as potentially game changing as it turned out to be (and yes, I realize I am being cryptic, but public education is taking a hit right now and I want to be careful). And, I think she means well. She advocates for us, wants us to get what we need to do our jobs effectively and efficiently, but the powers that be make that as hard for her to give to us as it is for us to get it.
So, today my question is this: should it seriously be this hard to do my job? Should I seriously have to spend hours and hours planning and drafting language about what should happen only to be told that all of it is contingent upon a maybe for next year, or that some of our assumptions have been altered due to the change of mind of outside parties? SERIOUSLY. This is teaching. This is education. I don't need committees and administrations and technology departments and textbook companies and the federal government an standardized tests and common core and state boards of education and angry local newspaper commentators to help me do my job.
I'm good.
I got this.
01 May 2011
Reflections of (the way life used to be)
The title of this post comes from a Supremes song that I love. It was used as the theme music for China Beach, a show I used to love. Why the nostalgia? Well, after a month of writing every day (and I have to admit to being proud I only took passes on two occasions), I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be disciplined, not only when it comes to writing, but in life in general.
I loved swimming when I was a kid. LOVED it. Took lessons, was ready for lifeguard status a few years too early and then our family moved to a town with no YWCA, no pool, no high school swim team. I wonder if there is an alternate universe version of me where I am--gasp--an athlete?? Anyway, I was disciplined to keep going because I took lessons, I had a place to go, a reason to learn, and--in the water--a completely silent space that belonged only to me. My body cutting through the chlorine, little legs kicking, arm over arm towards a healthier, happier, stronger me.
I haven't been that focused on something very much in my life. I devour books, music, I ingest the people I love, swallowing their good and bad qualities, trying to carry them around with me at all times so that I feel less alone. Yes, it's true: I have a bit of an abandonment thing. I couldn't tell you why. No horror stories from childhood, just a few lame boyfriends who didn't really take the care they should have with me, but this post isn't actually about that.
The point I'm trying to make, and there really is one, is that the last month of making myself write, even when I really didn't want to, reminded me that there is a payoff from such discipline and focus. I found myself reflecting on things I hadn't thought about in years, I caught myself looking forward to the challenge of finding something to say each day, and--in maybe the cheesiest sentence I've ever written--I, simply, found myself.
I remember, now, what it means to be dedicated, disciplined, focused. I'm ready to live that girl's life again.
I loved swimming when I was a kid. LOVED it. Took lessons, was ready for lifeguard status a few years too early and then our family moved to a town with no YWCA, no pool, no high school swim team. I wonder if there is an alternate universe version of me where I am--gasp--an athlete?? Anyway, I was disciplined to keep going because I took lessons, I had a place to go, a reason to learn, and--in the water--a completely silent space that belonged only to me. My body cutting through the chlorine, little legs kicking, arm over arm towards a healthier, happier, stronger me.
I haven't been that focused on something very much in my life. I devour books, music, I ingest the people I love, swallowing their good and bad qualities, trying to carry them around with me at all times so that I feel less alone. Yes, it's true: I have a bit of an abandonment thing. I couldn't tell you why. No horror stories from childhood, just a few lame boyfriends who didn't really take the care they should have with me, but this post isn't actually about that.
The point I'm trying to make, and there really is one, is that the last month of making myself write, even when I really didn't want to, reminded me that there is a payoff from such discipline and focus. I found myself reflecting on things I hadn't thought about in years, I caught myself looking forward to the challenge of finding something to say each day, and--in maybe the cheesiest sentence I've ever written--I, simply, found myself.
I remember, now, what it means to be dedicated, disciplined, focused. I'm ready to live that girl's life again.
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