New Snow

I've had another fresh start. I'm at a new place in a new town with a couple new jobs. I've got to tell you: Life is good.

I worry sometimes that I'm addicted to that "new life" smell. You can start over fresh and clean, with a blank slate. It seems that the past few years have had several slates come and go. Still, there's something nice about unlimited possibilities and it always feels that way at the beginning.

While I outfit a new classroom (which is looking quite cave-like at the moment), I get to see people lugging school supplies into the schools, putting books on shelves, brightly colored posters on walls. I've got to say, we're eager for the little rugrats to come in those doors. Ah, the bliss of September. Remind me of this moment mid April. At the stores, kids are buying new clothes, new shoes, new binders and pencils. I love it.

When I first started telling people that I was moving back North, I was scolded, "Why? They have snow there!" It's true. A whole lot from what I hear, too. Though my summer has been much, much, much cooler than it would have been down in the desert, I still think it's too hot. I am itching for fall. Pumpkins, hot cider, scarves, rain boots crunching on leaves... it's enough to make me tear up a bit. And then, there's winter! Snow falling at night on quiet streets, lit up by street lights and Christmas lights and starlight... Bundling up against the wind, trying not to fall on icy slopes (no more broken elbows!), and having the cold steal your breath for just a second the first moment you step outside. Then, and only then, is spring a fantastic respite from what you've just endured.

And then I got it. I need my seaons to change, figuratively and literally. I like progress, movement, notable distances travelled. I like deadlines to approach steadily, and noticeably pass. I am happy and content because I've had another season pass and I'm newly excited for things I've known before. It's another town, another school year, another fall. Hopefully, I will need fewer new cities. :) It's an expensive business, all that moving. But I hope I can enjoy first days - of school, of fall, of winter, of the state fair, of summer - for the rest of my life.

Silly Putty Jesus

One of my biggest frustrations in life is that people don't get what they deserve.  Though it's a trite example, it's still a good one: Big boys playing football make millions and my teacher salary is embarrassing for everyone.  People speed and they don't get tickets; I drive the speed limit and still manage to get a ticket.  Sometimes people skip in line at the grocery store and no one does anything.  If we're honest, it's really that I don't think I get what I deserve.  I'm a relatively good person, so good stuff should happen to me... and not to people who are bad.  Simple.

But I'm used to it.  Bad people get good things.  Teachers will never be paid well.  I will wait in line at the grocery store like a good girl and nothing good will happen to me for it.  

Another thing that I like (don't worry; this is going somewhere) is when Jesus does things to entertain me.  Now,  I don't mean to belittle who Jesus is or what he does.  To me, though, sometimes I need a pick me up and sometimes he gives me one.  It's a thing we do.

Yesterday, I had a rockin' day.  I was just on top of my work, the sun was shining... what's a girl to do?  I was driving home on the freeway, where terrible drivers abound.  I was listening to some Free Fallin' (gotta love Tom Petty) and I got into the left lane because there is a series of three merging lanes that always jam up.  Again, I am no speeder.  A car came flying up behind me to slam on his brakes and make some very entertaining hand gestures at me.  I figured he'd speed around me, cut me off, and get to wherever he was going much faster than me.

For once, I was wrong.  I kept my cruise control on, but he couldn't get around me.  I was blissfully amused.  When he finally sped around me, he cut me off and cut off the semi next to me.  The best part was that the semi and I were inadvertently hiding the spying cop car on the shoulder.  I actually saw the guy get pulled over!  For speeding and being a bad driver!  That never happens!

I could only smile and thank Jesus.  I don't think he forced the guy to be a jerk, but I appreciate him pulling the edges of the picture (like a comic on Silly Putty) so that I could watch the guy get exactly what he deserved.

Nausea

During tutoring, I asked a high schooler what three things she wanted to get done before Monday (this was on a Thursday). She couldn't tell me three things.

I asked, "Is there a movie you want to see? A friend you're supposed to do something with? A bill you have to pay? A sale you want to go to?" All of this received a blank stare.

Do I miss being 14?

A few times in my life I have felt things changing before they actually did. There are times in life that seem like the gears shifting before any happens in the concrete world. Probably six months before I left for college, I started to feel like I was click-click-clicking up a roller coaster. By the time I actually left, the "change" or whatever it had actually been was over. You blink and it's all completely new but completely familiar.

In those times, I usually remember sitting in my bedroom on 79th. I used to look in my mirror and wonder how the picture there would morph and change. I usually wondered if the current me would get along with, approve of, respect the future me. Even then, I knew it was a complicated paradox.

I have nothing new. I am not a different person. Tomorrow will be like pretty much all my recent Mondays. But I feel that nausea like when a ride at a carnival starts. You know it's going to be mostly fun, but you might throw up. I can feel the gears behind the scenes starting to creak.

When it's over, I won't look much different in that mirror. It's mostly the feel of an era ending and a new one starting. It feels like the legaches I used to get when I grew five inches in one summer (a statement like that makes you think I'd be tall). My legs were growing and it was a weird pain that would creep up on me from inside my kneecaps. There wasn't anything to do to make it better, with the exception of my grandpa rubbing my knees until they burned, but just sit and take it.

Afterwards I never felt taller.

Maturity

Working with kids can often remind me of how young and old I am.  There are some things that make me feel young:

-I still giggle when someone says "duty" or has to say the phrase "do do" (There are things that we don't do that hurt people, but there are also things we do do that hurt people).

-I still know what the kids are talking about... most of the time.

-I don't like getting up early and would rather stay up way too late reading a good book.

-I use "like" far too often to be considered an adult.

But still, I sometimes have to look at others (way too frequently, it's adults) and wonder how they manage their lives being so childish.  I know I'm old because:

-I like to keep meetings civil.

-I am goal oriented and would rather work hard now so that I can play later.

-I know better than to speak with emotion in public.  Think quickly; speak slowly.  (At least on a professional basis - I'm no slow talker regularly.)

-I like knitting and bloody marys.

Meetings with adults make me proud of what I accomplish in the classroom - a respectful exchange of ideas with a final summarizing thought, wrapped in a bow. If kids aren't better at it, it's because we, as adults, don't model it very well or very often.

I like to say that it's pretty easy to tell which kids will turn out to be which adults.  It's easy to see the kid whining over who was first in line, arguing a finer point of literary discourse with reason and poise, or calming down a friend... and then to see that person as an adult doing the same thing.  I talked too much then; I talk too much now.  I argued then constantly; I became a high school teacher.

It's as inspiring to see those little adults as it is frustrating to see those big babies.

Angst

As a high school English teacher, I see my fair share of censorship. The very idea of it makes me feel as angsty as those I am supposed to mold.

I would be crazy to insinuate that censorship, in all forms, is bad. I have to censor what my students say in the classroom just to maintain control and a variation of civilization, for instance. I wish that the FCC would focus less on how many times I hear the words penis and vagina on TV and focus more on not showing scary movie commercials that give me nightmares.

There are many times that I wish students, coworkers, people in front of me in line at the grocery store, etc. would use a bit more censorship. Just today I learned about an STD and its owner. Why? I don't want to know.

I know that I use censorship on a regular basis. How people still don't know that I have the mouth of sailor... Work, a blog, and my public cell phone conversations don't require me to swear. Color me innocent. Though I talk a lot, I say little and I suppose that's intentional. I don't want people (for the most part) in my business and I don't want to be a part of theirs.

Then, however, I hear of a book being pulled from schools. It makes me so angry. If there were better, more descriptive words, I'd use them. I don't want kids to have things taken away from them. So few read, so few care... we're going to take away one book that a kid actually read and talked about enough to have a parent complain?

I have kids asking me to read a modern American book about war. I'm not sure any would be approved by the powers that be. Do I tell them no? Do I tell students that we can't talk about certain political issues and we can't read books that use certain words? Describe certain activities?

Well, of course I do. I have to work harder to find a book. School is not my platform; my podium is not a pulpit. Just because they can't read a book in my classroom doesn't mean it's burning in the streets while evil men stand in the background, twisting their moustaches. Let's be honest. Those kids don't need me to save them from narrow minded thinking. Let's be more honest; it'd be too late anyway.

The idea of censorship in schools enrages me even while I know it's necessary. I just feel angsty.

It's just like the economy, politics, friendships, relationships -- the list goes on. I'm very, very sure when I see that things aren't happening as they're supposed to. However, I'm equally unsure how to fix them.

I once again fear that my proximity to high schoolers is rubbing off more on me than my influence is on them. (Wait, is it develope or develop?) I feel outraged, silenced, impotent, useless and guilty. Sounds like 16 to me...

Snow

It's all it takes.  A little snow, a little winter chaos in the middle of the desert.

I found myself sleeping in this morning hoping that if I delayed, I would be forced to stay home because of the snow - the inch of snow that was promised.  Now, I didn't get a snow day, but I did get Starbucks and a beautiful drive to work.  I took some pictures with my phone, but I'm 80 so it will take me a while to get those from my phone onto my computer.

Kids are freaking out, throwing snowballs (slushballs, really, but who am I to burst their bubbles?) and screaming.  Winter hats and pretty scarves are out in full force.  I got four warnings to "be careful of the ice" that I know wasn't real ice.  

But I am ecstatic.  It's cold.  It's pretty.  The enthusiasm is contagious.  All you people who have been enduring snow for months are probably over it, but I'm like a child seeing Christmas for the first time.  I feel like skipping and throwing snowballs myself.  

In a few short weeks, it'll be back up in the 80s and 90s.  I'll be happy that my desert is a desert again.  But for the time being, I'm going to be very happy that I was sent a little, tiny bit of that winter I've been missing for a couple years.

Calm

The holidays were hectic. It continues to be hard to be so far away from all my different "homes." Friends, families, and connecting flights are often too far away to be practical ventures, but we did it. I've taken on another class this semester and given up my planning period. The hubby's search for a med school continues. But I've finally found some calm.

It's all still nebulous and cryptic (sorry), but I think I've finally sorted out a few things in my life. I have a plan. If you have met me, even briefly, I think you'll probably know how addicted to a plan I am. I am reminded however that nothing on the surface of my life has changed at all, but decisions are capable of calming a person down. I'm glad that I feel calm for the first time in a long time.