Today, with open windows and sweatshirt weather, I curled up on the couch and watched 'Ever After'. And I was once again struck by how much I love this movie. First, I am reminded of high school. But there's more to it than that.
There's also the beauty of the story. That da Vinci shows up and eludes to all of his inventions, and that people get upset about class structure and political alliances through marriage. And there are the elaborate dresses. And the 90s woman mindset that shows up when, at the end, the main character wields the sword against Le Pieu and saves herself. (I argue now this is both great and not so great at all.) And best of all, that half of the time the main characters are talking it is about books.
This is a very good version of Cinderella.
It is time to come back to the details of history, and knowing this has been on my mind, but the real action of opening a book and reading like a teacher did not come back until today. I have spent most of my time today learning again about the 20th century.
I think this back to school business for teachers has its own rhythm. For some it starts in late July. For me it starts, really starts, now. All sorts of teachers are back to finding their groove.
You've heard me talk about being a generalist and choosing to delve deeper into some things. But not all things?
In the spirit of what was said before in 'What 5 Years Have Taught Me' I am continuing to write about life. What's in front of me, here and now. Though we tend not to think about this too much, the title of a post like this is truly a significant task in each day. And the years that take them to new places. This morning I thought about not only summer, but life in the last year. And not where I've been going or what I've been doing, but the things I've figured out.
A few years ago, one of my friends used the term 'getting good with yourself'. Before you do big things that sweep you into the 'shoulds and should nots' of this modern life. It's such a simple thing to say, but living it, really looking it in the face every once in a while can be heart wrenching. Good you know, but heart wrenching too. I believe that you need to face things because they don't go away. You can live to be 86 years old and some of the crap will still come to you. You have to go through some of it. And so. This is what I know.
Last week, I went to Glacier National Park (see above), which one of my favorite places on this planet. (More to come.) And now I am back. After all of those miles, toting all of that camping gear, here I sit, grateful to be home, and grateful to have gone on the trip at all. Not everybody gets to head west and drive into the sunset and go hiking and camping with their little sister for a week. It was SOOOOO fun.
Today, right about the time I hit 35 heading north, the non-Montana side of my life came back to me. But it wasn't depressing. It was good. Mostly I thought about what the summer has been since I left the classroom in June. (Or more realistically, when the last kid was picked up by their parents at the airport, post-D.C., at 1 am. That's when summer got real.)
Every once in a while I return to the thoughts that are brief. Today is a day like that. I am thinking about bracing up the inner landscape in preparation for new seasons ahead. And amid the flurry of details and changing schedules, this always means being someone true. And seeing the thing right in front of you very well. And doing something good with it. Here are the small thoughts in front of me that are once again becoming big today.
"A man's style is his voice. Wood minds, wooden voices." - Emerson
"The tragedy of life is not so much what men suffer, but what they miss." - Thomas Carlyle
All summer long I have been thinking about seasonal trade off. It's slow in coming, trickling into the day as I live differently. But after 5 years of teaching, the trade off is clear. I had a myriad of thoughts come to my again this morning about it, so I'm writing about it here.
Trade Offs
- Sunscreen instead of perfume. (Lots of sunscreen.)
- Strapless sundresses instead of teacher wear
- Not caring one whit about jewelry instead of wanting to get dolled up every day
- 'I don't know what time it is right now' instead 'You have 3 more minutes' (on every hour)
- Books about the 'why the humanities?' written by professors (with the summer brain power to actually understand) instead of 7th grade textbooks I know like the back of my hand
- Floaties instead of swivel chairs
- Bewildering writer's block instead of constant internal thoughts about world history and more
- More Augustana, less Rihanna (she helps me grade)
- Miles and miles of driving instead of my little route along the St. Croix to school
- Bare feet as much as possible instead of high heels and flats
- Thoughts about the world I don't share instead of 6 hours of constant talking (hello, tired September voice)
- Big picture dreaming instead of the small moments of intensity (there are many of these in any one's work day, no?)
This summer I have been hidden, a little removed, and far away. On purpose. It is the bliss of the teaching life to cease striving in the world of education for a little while. Soon it returns to me.
This summer I have had loads of writers block. And I've traveled to see old friends and I've done lots of new things too. And I've cleaned. And I've grown up a little more. And I've faced things squarely that might have been hidden or held residue in the business of the school year.
When you really face yourself in the quiet of a summer day, the real true you sometimes needs to be reckoned with. I will say that this has been awkward for me...to really think about things I've carried in my mind, the clutter that holds a fog that doesn't need to be there. The messages I share internally that propel or hinder. Amidst this, the questioning, the perspective changing, the reckoning, beautifully, there has also been rest.
In the far away, abstract, summer reaches of my mind, I have seen again that this is growing up.
