I Teach Real People

 

 

I teach real people

Real, live, living, breathing, young human people

I’m tired of the irrelevant expectations

I’m tired of trying to adapt to nonsense I don’t always believe in

Yes, I take charge at times

I close my door and teach

Because I know full well following the rules doesn’t always get the job done

I’m tired of the focus on progress monitoring

While acknowledging it has its place

But it isn’t everything!

I’m tired of people not in the classroom instantly forgetting what it is like

To deal with too many immature students in one room

And the class becomes a constant barrage of who did what to whom

Is it too much to ask that the curriculum acknowledges who they are?

Is it too much to ask to have parental support and not just be told

Deal with it

Is it too much to ask that our society support what we do in public ed?

Doesn’t its success benefit us all?

Yes, I am ranting, borne from a place where I feel like an outlier

For wanting to reach my learners, bring out the best in them.

When too many adults don’t prioritize what they need

How should a preteen know or believe in that mission

When everything they experience tells them otherwise?

They can’t see how it matters.

But it matters.

Always did.

Always will.

Guiding Principles

 I have been a fan of Jean Shinoda Bolen since I read Goddesses in Everywoman in 1994. She has been my companion through aging, with such books as Crossing to Avalon (about midlife) and Goddesses in Older Women. Today I completed a short volume for people in my age group: Crones Don’t Whine.

This book really came through at the end, when she played on the four guiding principles of life by anthropologist Angeles Arrien:

1. Show up

2. Pay attention

3. Speak your truth

4. Don’t be attached to outcome

Bolen changed this a little bit, and it’s definitely a good reminder for me these days:

1. Show up

2. Pay attention

3. Speak your truth

4. Pray for best outcome

Her reasoning for changing the last one fits with my belief: we don’t know exactly what ours or anyone else’s journeys are. All we can do is live and love the best way possible. 

In the final part she added this question for living as well: I wonder what is going to happen next?

As I head into work today, and the week ahead I am taking this question with me. 

High Alert

 

High alert

That’s the way I have felt now for over a month.

My body always ready to handle

The next emergency

The next emotional jarring

Gratefully,

 I am off high alert this morning.

Gratefully,

 I was able to just do self-care yesterday,

 after the loss of our son.

Gratefully, 

Last night the weather was perfect for an 

open air restaurant meal 

with gentle guitar music and a good friend.

Today, my body feels like it’s mine.

Like I’m not moving through deep water.

Like when I stretch, it won’t be tight rubber bands.

For now, I’m off high alert. 

                                                       And I am grateful.

Finally At Peace

 One less light in the world today.

Godspeed, Wayne. 

You made a difference to a lot of people, and will be remembered always. 

Unlock

 I wrote this acrostic poem on December 18, 2023 after reading David Kirby’s poem “I Love You, John Maynard Keynes.”  Here is the inspirational quote:

There’s all this power under our feet 

and it’s up to us

how to unlock it.

Unless I give up hope I will

Never get through this week

Looking ahead and dreading it is certainly not helpful

Only by staying in the moment

Can I succeed while smiling

Knowing that I know this secret

Ha! I thought things were tough then! Little did I know….

They Always Know

It has been a difficult and exhausting week in many ways. I feel far away from my students, and everything feels disjointed.

This is why a message from a former student I taught as a high schooler was so needed, such a surprise, and well, I’ve noticed that often these messages arrive when I need them most. How do they know?

This reminds me to keep doing things that I believe matter to young people, no matter what. 

Let it Matter

 The word that sticks with me from yesterday is

INDEFINITELY.

I heard it from Dr. Shah (the oncologist). He said even after these rounds of chemo, Jim will be on chemo/immunotherapy…

INDEFINITELY.

The thing is—I expected to hear that kind of thing last week. But he said at that time this chemo would be followed by “2 years of immunotherapy.”

Pardon me if I’m confused here, because I truly am. 

I tried to hold it in, but finally broke open to Jim about it last night and cried. He is confused as well.

The bottom line, of course, is what matters — and that is accepting. A huge part of this reality is what acceptance really means.

A lot of times we say we are accepting, but in reality we aren’t really.

We resist.

**

I watched the final 45 minutes of American Symphony, and in it Suleika hears from her doctor that after the bone marrow transplant she will be on chemo…

INDEFINITELY.

They cry. I cry with them.

We all know what that really means.

I’m finding this part of the journey hard to accept. And I tend to tell myself it doesn’t matter, or I’m just looking at things wrong.

But it does matter, and I’m not wrong to feel what I feel.

This is when I come back to call on the angels surrounding us and tap into my deeper soul knowledge, and not let outer influences change what I know to be true.

Tap into that and stay there.

**

Today I decided to listen to Johnnyswim’s album Georgica Pond and I knew there was a song waiting there for me.  I finally found this one that had the words, and it was a necessary reminder that what I’m feeling DOES matter.

If it matters, let it matter

If your heart’s breaking, let it ache

Catch those pieces as they scatter

Know your hurt is not in vain

Don’t hide yourself from the heart

Hurt today, here tomorrow

If it’s fragile and it shatters

Let it matter, let it matter

Oh, it matters