...as far as affecting my internal compass.
It started with my school's end term party on Wednesday, where I joined my co-workers who I've been teaching alongside all year for drinks and dinner and mingling and dancing. Talks of September were had, and as usual, I included myself in the discussions.
Three retirees were honored and one of them said something that has been resonating.
She said, "Don't wish time away."
I wonder if she wished time away as a teacher. I've been spending all this time since January wishing for June to be here. Now it's here, and I want to stay in this [cusp of summer] zone forever.
My internal compass was bi-polar bouncing from one extreme to the other throughout the end-term party night...the one that tells me I'll teach another year, and the one that fights teaching another year at every cost.
The next day, all the Special Ed teachers from my school (there are about ten of us) were sent to Columbia University in NYC to attend professional development workshops. The same back and forth, pushing and pulling occurred.
I sat in these workshops listening to teachers tell me all these lofty ideas about teaching...most of which I believed myself this time last year. I felt frustrated with the idealist all around me, but identified with them at the same time...and was a little envious that this teaching profession of ours seems to satisfy their soul, but not mine.
It was a tad confusing to say the least. I tried to relax at lunch, when my Special Ed co-workers and I skipped the free box-lunch and headed up the block for hot appetizers and cocktails:
This was the workshop entitled "How To Work in the New York City Department of Education and Still Remain Sane". Tee hee.
After lunch I headed to a professional development workshop that was right up my alley, my extreme cup of tea, my most happiest place...I walked into the assigned room with classical music playing lowly in the background, and saw 30 to 50 people cutting and gluing and making collages.
The workshop I walked into fell under the topic 'multimodal learning', but it could have been titled Amanda's Much Needed Therapy in large neon lights.
I love paper play. I love designing with what's in front of me. I love ripping and cutting. I love smooth and frayed edges. I love black& white. I love brights. I love stripes. I love florals. I love mixing prints. I love text and type. I love whimsy. I LOVE this stuff.
I know this.
When it comes to teaching, I love the kids. I love being able to show them something they've never seen before. I love igniting a passion in people, like many people have done for me.
Is there a way to combine the two?
Is there a job somewhere out there that can crash these two notions together and mold into my soul's purpose?
I wondered this at the end of my day at Columbia University.
I took all these questions to bed with me.
Then yesterday happened.
...and my principal told me where she's placing me next year.
All these plans were made and talks were had, and here I was yapping away about next year and how it'll be different and falling into this teacher role as if the all-important shift and its cousin and my pursuit of happyness plea and strengths and weaknesses exercise NEVER HAPPENED.
Room changes and how'd I organize and who would be with me and ALL THIS TEACHER TALK went on!! I felt light-headed most of the day and my internal compass is exhausted this morning.
I thought I knew what page I was on and the past 3 days have tornadoed me to a different section of the library and it's not the self-help!
At this point, I'm anxious to see what the Summer brings, or what I make it bring.
I think that will be the deciding factor in this fiasco.
Tomorrow, I plan to hit up a local street fair and bake.
As head-spinning as the past 3 days were, the next 2 will be spent slow and still and calm and happy.
Happy June Weekend, reader-loves.