Crossing a Line

I am a person who has always embraced change. I believe it has become a central part of my being. I am constantly learning and in a state of flux. My beliefs in people and principles are deeply effected by new information. This is all usually for the better. The past year has brought stability in my work world but anything but that in my life at home. It is incredible to think that a year ago I was teaching summer school and would come home to a daily schedule of methodically ripping out what was left of a lawn in the front yard. Yes, I was going native in hopes of stopping the needless water waste of keeping grass alive in this medeterranean climate. No big deal really. But it seems to have been the catalyst for opening a flood gate of changes around here. The front yard is now native and definitely looking better. The back lawn is also gone as well as the maple tree and one of the redwoods. In their place is a lot more sunlight and vegetables and herbs that are feeding me daily. That all seemed logical to me; a no brainer. I have gone back to canning and freezing my own food. I somehow feel like this is also at my core having been raised in Iowa. But now, I think, a line has been crossed. Inside my house, you will find 3 baby hens. And very soon there will be a chicken coop and run for the hens in the back yard. I don't know anyone beyond my grandparents who have ever raised chickens so this is all new territory for me. People make judgments about me now that they didn't before. Once you start raising chickens you move a bit on the spectrum. Your behavior is no longer predictable in the eyes of your friends and family. When you joke about buying a farm, no one really knows if you'll do it or not. It is fun to keep them guessing but it also makes you wonder about yourself. If you have done all this in 12 months time, what might be next? Who are you becoming? What will your house and yard look like a year from now? I am definitely on that other side now and almost anything is possible.

Rejuvenated

Summer is a time to reset the teaching clock. No one who isn't a teacher or doesn't hang around with teachers can possibly understand this. Most just think it is a "vacation." I really don't think I could keep doing this year after year if there weren't a few weeks in the year when I'm wasn't doing it. I know that sounds strange coming from a person who proclaims to be dedicated to her profession. Last summer was a serious challenge with only 3 weeks between school and summer school and school again. This summer I made a conscious choice to make a break in between. We are losing a week of summer already because of a schedule change made by the district. I'm not one of those complaining about it but even if I wanted to do it, I knew this was not the year to do summer school. Instead I signed up for a workshop the week after school was out. On the first day, I was wondering what I was thinking and by day 4 it was getting harder and harder to drag myself out the door but I was glad I did it. It was one of those events that invigorated me and made me happy to be a teacher again. Those moments are not that common anymore in this time of standards and high stakes testing and everyone feeling like they know what and how you should teach. Teaching as a profession just isn't that much fun anymore. One of my mantras in my low times is "How am I ever going to keep doing this for 10 more years." Well this workshop was different. This workshop has the potential to be a game changer for, not only me, but for any of our staff who is willing to get involved in an honest and authentic discussion about this thing called teaching. I am revived and rejuvenated. I am also now ready for summer. I am ready for raising chicks and holding my granddaughter as well as my grandfather and being amazed by the marvels of Alaska. I am ready to garden and harvest and preserve. And, yes, I am also ready to delve into a new reading and writing text book so that when August 11 rolls around, I'll be ready and raring to go again.

A Letter to My Former Self

I wish I could now communicate with my former self and somehow relieve the me of long ago from all those needless concerns that filled my head and heart about raising a daughter. When I found out I was pregnant, I told everyone that it didn't matter if the baby was a girl or boy but in reality, it did. I wanted desperately to raise a daughter and to get it right. My identity was such a jumble growing up and I dreamed of bringing a woman into the world that knew who she was from the beginning and could stand up for herself. I am almost embarrassed to say how much of me I poured into her. I'm not sure how I would have survived if she had ever turned away from me. I tried hard to prepare her as well as protect her from the world. We were that family that talked about everything at the dinner table. Alcohol and drugs were scary but my greatest concern was that of teen pregnancy. It sounds crazy now and it sounded crazy then too. But I just had so much wrapped up in her and could only dream about everything that she could be. I would not be able to handle giving up the dream and watching her raise a baby in place of college and anything else that might follow. But at the same time, I could not imagine the thought of raising a grandchild. And now here I am today, desperately in love with everything about being a grandmother. It just all feels kind of funny when I think back on the past.

Dear Tere, the mother,
You have nothing to fear. That teenage girl you are fretting about is becoming exactly who she is supposed to be. You are worried that she will lose her heart to some cute boy and that the potential for who and what she can be will float away. That will not happen. You worry about the worse case scenario of her getting pregnant and the challenge of raising your grandchild. Well, I can tell you that is not the worse case scenario. There is actually nothing better than being a grandmother. It is love incarnate. It is stepping outside yourself and watching the next generation move forward. It is beauty and joy and all things wonderful. Holding your grandchild is absolutely the best thing there is in the world. So stop worrying and just enjoy that beautiful daughter who will one day make you a grandmother.
Love,
Tere, the grandmother

Yes, I did worry about my daughter and how a mistimed pregnancy would result in the broken dreams of her future. There is just no way to have a normal social life while raising a baby. But my greatest fears had a selfish side to them. I had seen too many grandmothers raising their grandchildren in the public school system. It scared me to death. How could I possibly give up my career to raise my grandchild? And now that she is here, I get it. And, yes, I would have given up everything to give Callie all that she needed for a good start in life. She is the future. She is the dream for all that is yet to be.

The End

The school year has come to an end. I don't think I have ever been as calm on the last day of school as I was on this one. It just felt good and right and finished. I know that I have given my best to these kids. This year was a definite improvement over last year. The second time around is always better than the first of anything. And that is surely true of teaching middle school. I feel good about my teaching of writing. I improved on my units from last year and have some goals for next year. My love of teaching reading has been rekindled and I know exactly what I want to do to make next year better. That is the beauty of teaching. It is a one year commitment and at the end we can reflect and figure out how to improve it next time. This is new for me. I have jumped schools and grade levels for my entire career. It feels good to be grounded and to know that this is what everything else was preparing me to do. And now it is time to breathe in relaxation so that when August 11th rolls around, my mind and spirit will both be ready to do it all over again.