So lucky

I had a wonderful day today, so many gifts and I feel like I have so little time to record them all... I admit this is partially due to Self-inflicted Holiday Knitting Pressure (SIHKP). Anyway, I really wanted to write about and remember a visit today from a former student, Dave Douglas, who was in my creative writing class when he was a senior and is now almost graduated from Alfred University. Dave is an artist and he came by to show me photos of his work and tell me about what he's doing. For me, as a teacher, this is the most amazing gift. To be able to connect with someone who is doing such interesting and beautiful things, and to have had even a small part in who he is today, is what it's all about. So thanks Dave! If I can figure out how, I will link to his blog so more people can enjoy his work!

Two gifts

I was waiting all day today, wondering what gifts I would receive... It was kind of a busy, stressful day, running around getting ready for the holidays and the week of school before vacation. Anyway, now that I have a moment to myself there are two gifts I want to record here. Gift #1. My friend Amy's post on Facebook today was about hugging your family and telling them that you love them. It's the anniversary of her parents' terrible car accident, and she exemplifies someone who is so strong, hurting, and still giving. I admire her so much and will do whatever she says (...within reason). I hugged my kids and husband tonight. Thank you, Amy. Gift #2 was the beautiful starry night sky. Deedee gave it to me by demanding to be taken out. I had some good clear breaths and feel much better now. Thanks Deedee!

Receiving

I am on day three of The Receiving Project, an experiment in opening myself to guidance from the universe... as new agey as it sounds, I am loving the idea of daily reminders to be aware of and accepting of all the good things that come my way.  Yesterday, my gift was a huge hug from our school social worker, who came down to my office just to tell me that she thinks I'm great.  It was exactly what I needed as I try to fight the good fight and not be overwhelmed by the holiday season!  I'm hoping that it will also encourage me to blog more regularly... we shall see.

Occasional paper for my AP class

I love teaching AP English because it's hard in a good way. The course itself challenges me to think as a writer, the novels we read are so thick and rich (and chocolatey), and the kids who take AP are almost always bright, interesting, and easy to teach because they're good at playing the game of school. They know how to listen and nod when their teachers say smart-sounding things, they are nice to each other, and they are very, very good at having bullshit discussions about literature they haven't actually read. I know this. I've had some great, brilliant classes, some funny classes, some just really nice classes, and some not-incredibly-exciting classes, but I've enjoyed teaching them all. So what's different about this year?

Imagine that you've had one of the worst years of your life. Not only have you witnessed the decline and death of your colleague, but you've also felt responsible for making sure everyone around you is ok. You got in a car accident, and had an emergency root canal, and both your dog and your brother-law had seizures. Also, you had a teacher quit on the first day of school, your whole family had strep throat twice, and your friend's baby was premature. There was an earthquake/tsunami/nuclear meltdown in the place of your birth, where a bunch of your family members still live. This year has been the kind of stressful that makes you laugh hysterically at inappropriate times and question what you could possibly have done to create this karmic whirlpool of freaky terribleness.

Now imagine that also during this year, almost every day, you get to be in a place where people laugh and listen to each other and get all excited about things you love - like books, writing, words -- and not only do you get to hang out there for a solid 55 minutes (except on D day), but it's your job! You get paid to do this! Can you imagine how lucky you would feel?

A combination of horrible circumstances and amazing people has helped me learn and grow in a startling way this year. The crucible of this year -- the heat and the blackness that often seemed to surround me -- has melted away some of the old beliefs I had about life and what is most important. I've seen in this room, that just sitting and listening is the most important part of education. That when we get to know each other in real, authentic ways, we really, really like each other. Sometimes it's good to just close the door for a little while and be in the presence of other kind people. That good conversations make us better writers.
I could go on and on. This has been a year of lessons for me, and I'm looking forward to some downtime this summer so I can reflect on what has happened. But I wanted you to know the significance of your part in my life story. There will be many times in your lives when you wonder what your purpose is or if you even matter. I hope that you can have a fleeting memory of 11th grade English, 2011, and realize that you gave me a gift, just by coming here everyday and being your real selves, that has affected everything that I will do from now on. Thank you Yi, Jessie, Tori, Lindsay with an a, Emily, Jack, Michaela, Hayley, Alycia, Hasher, Alan, Megan, David, Riley, Taylor, Jess, Julie, Amanda, Lindsey with an e, Davana, Rebecca, Carla, and Kevin. Thank you for being the kind of individuals and the kind of people who make me hopeful for the future. If this was Glee, I would now take out a guitar and sing an inspirational song, and you would,all join in, and then the credits would roll. But this is real life, so now we will discuss The Old Man and the Sea instead.

Can't sleep

One of the gifts of this annus horribilis has been insomnia. I meant that sarcastically, but now that I've written it, I'm not so sure. Here I am on the living room couch, reading blogs, thinking about teaching, with my dog keeping me company in the quiet of the night. It's very peaceful. I've always thought that if I can't sleep I should get up and try to figure out the reason why, and then fix it, but I'm actually feeling quite content here right now. Go figure.

Perfectionism

I'm realizing how often I don't write because I can't think of the cleverest, smartest way to say things. And then that thought is lost. So I'm going to try really hard to be really soft with myself. I'm just checking in. Am starting a 5 day juice cleanse tomorrow, so we'll see how that goes! (Just previewed this post and wanted to delete it, but will try to be OPEN and nonjudgmental of myself... Here goes)

Too much sad

It has been so hard to write lately.  It feels like there is just so much sadness in the world right now, although I  am blessed to be safe, and warm, and loved.  Many of my students are struggling with the overwhelming pressure they feel to be perfect teenage girls; the pictures from Japan break my heart (although I am so glad that our family is safe and even has a new baby to celebrate in Tokyo); and most of all, my colleague and fellow teacher is dying.  I went back to find a quote from Virginia Woolf's novel The Waves that I remembered standing out for me when I first read it in college, and now it seems even more true:

By what name are we to call death?  I do not know.  I need a little language such as lovers use, words of one syllable such as children speak when they come into the room and find their mother sewing and pick up some scrap of bright wool, a feather, or a shred of chintz.  I need a howl; a cry.  When the storm crosses the marsh and sweeps over me where I lie in the ditch unregarded I need no words. Nothing neat.  Nothing that comes down with all its feet on the floor.  None of those resonances and lovely echoes  that break and chime from nerve to nerve in our breasts, making wild music, false phrases.  I have done with phrases.
How much better is silence; the coffee-cup, the table.  How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake.  Let me sit here for ever with bare things, this coffee-cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.