Thing #33: Lessons that have gone well

Part of my lenten goals (especially after yesterday's reminder that our lenten sacrifice should be something that stands in our way of God) is an effort to come up with at least one "thing to be happy about" a day. I hope this goes well.

So, here goes my first attempt at positivity (despite my lingering hunger and exhaustion):

Today's lesson went really well. I refused to give answers for most of the lesson. Instead, I allowed my students to create their own working knowledge of personal narratives. What they came up with was better than any PowerPoint slide I could have created. Now, they not only know what good writing should have, they also know what it looks like (and what it doesn't). I feel like a good teacher, and I'm not worn out from talking all block and re-explaining the ideas. They did the work. It was fabulous.

Thing #32: The light at the end of the tunnel

As we trudge on through the middle of February (the worst month after January), I find myself in my typical late-winter, pre-spring melancholy. I feel sad for no reason; the ambitious schedule seems impossible; I want to simultaneously drink wine (which I dislike in a way reserved for spicy foods and rainy runs), cry, and watch terribly sappy romantic movies. I hate February.

Yet (and yet), I find myself looking forward to the first 60 degree day with an almost reckless hope. I can smell the sweet scent of the air from open windows. My feet feel the freedom of comfy Rainbow flip-flops. I taste the first sweet bites of watermelon. Every inch of my body aches for the springtime sensations.

So, even though it seems impossibly far away after this abysmal winter (and let's not lie - it's been icky), I have hope for sunshine soon and the brief (even if proves imaginary) break in the hectic schedule. I cling to the coming spring as if it were my only life line. It is the light to which I walk - thankfully it is the light of life.

Thing #31: Successful Art Projects

Deep down, past the obsessive-compulsive neatness tendencies, beyond the procrastination bone, far removed from the frequent-nap-taking gene is creative ability. Often, it seems incredibly distant. In fact, often, it seems as though it and I have little in common. However, on occasion, it really steps it up a notch and shines through the aforementioned personality ticks.

Yesterday, it produced an awesome art project. And there it is, lovely picture posted. The theme was "I believe that happiness is something we create," (thanks, Sugarland), and I used transparencies to overlay extra happiness onto already beautiful places. So now, Geneva has my own personal sailboat, Connecticut has my picnic table ready, and the oceanfront has a chair and peaceful umbrella waiting for me.

I guess the coolest part is not the actual artwork, but the fact that it worked according to plan, as many of my recent endeavors have. While making it, I realized that I love taking pictures, and I should get a nice camera and really learn how to do it.

It's nice to know that under the OCD, procrastination, and laziness waits this creative center that is ready to take control of an otherwise uneventful snow day (don't even get me started on VBCPS and possible make-up days).

So, whose wedding shall I be ready to photograph? I'm seriously learning to photograph. I need an alternate career path should teaching fail.

Thing #30: As Seen on TV

I am willing to bet that 75-80% of items sold on television do NOT work as promised. However, it's that promise of some fabulous feat of awesomeness that draws me in. Yesterday, I bought the mold for the jumbo cupcake. Why anyone needs such an item is unknown; still, I'm incredibly excited to try it out for tonight's dinner. I have no idea if I'll even be marginally successful, or if the product itself will work. The hope that the giant cupcake will be awesome excites me, regardless.

Thing #29: Daddy.

No matter what, there are few things I enjoy like a good conversation with my dad. I remember many conversations (topic completely irrelevant) with dad that lasted for hours. As much as I am like my mom in temperament and perspective, there are things that dad and I see eye-to-eye on like no one else. Like stupidity, books, education, and great ringtones.

I keep rewriting this, knowing that dad will read it. It's silly...I can never quite put into words how comforted I am by knowing that somehow, I'm still daddy's little girl. I respect him immensely, and when I spend time with him, I feel like he respects me the same way. I feel loved and safe and special, like I did when I was younger and dad treated me like a little adult, amused at my opinions, but honestly respectful that I had my own perspective. And when I get a hug from dad, I feel that he loves me. I just feel it.

It's silly how much of a little girl I am deep down. Maybe it's not, though. I love my dad, and I'm so grateful to be able to spend time with him, just the two of us. Dad, thank you for making sure that I feel loved and safe and special.

That still feels insufficient, but it will have to suffice.

How lucky am I that both of my parents are "things to be happy about"? How blessed am I?

Thing #28: Observations being over

As a teacher without tenure, I am observed by my administrator several times a year. Last Thursday, I received an email that said, "I will be doing my first evaluations of the year next week." Immediately, my brain goes to panic mode. "Do I have all of my attendance records straight? Oh no! I must now write lesson plans for the first time all year. Yikes! What will I do that will be both interesting and engaging, not to mention appeal to multiple learning styles and present my skills as a teacher? When is there TIME?" Eventually, the brain settles down, and I get it together. I worry less and less about a horse and pony show and more and more about ensuring that the essentials are there (questioning the students, guiding them to the answer, a little literature, a little grammar, a little vocabulary, a little writing). I get the lesson plans together and the binders organized.

Then, the week of the observation arrives. During most classes I look at the door, thinking, "Will it be this class? This half of the block? Do I have all my binders together?" Regardless of my preparation, my observer always walks in when I'm not expecting it. One observation, he walked in during a rousing round of "happy birthday" I was attempting to get out of the way before the observation may (or may not) occur. At least he was entertained.

So today, my observer walked in to a rowdy class, "studying" for their vocabulary quiz. I am sure that this isn't good teaching technique (the studying for the quiz before the quiz bit), but it's great for a little bit of good-faith report with my students. Whatever. I'll apologize later. Unfortunately, the rambunctiousness only led to 15 minutes of silent quiz taking. Ugh. But, it did get better. We analyzed "Mother to Son" for elements of extended metaphor, and it was lovely. Lovely. They "got it," and they were well on their merry journeys to writing metaphor poems for themselves when he finally left.

And why am I happy, really? That it's over and it's only Tuesday. I can breathe for the rest of the week, knowing that my main objective, really, is to actually teach these lovely students and attempt to grade the ever growing mounds of papers. I will do things at my own slow little pace, knowing that my efforts are simply good enough.

Deep, cleansing breath of freedom from prying eyes (well, until Drew comes to "observe" me on Thursday. But that's an observation without any pressure, except that I be witty and delightful, when I am not always so at 7:25 in the morning with likewise tired seniors).

Thing #27: Coming Home

Trips are delightful. It's fun to see new and old places, to get away from email and most communication, and to spend time with people you love. But eventually, home just seems like a good place to be.

The feeling you get when you drive up to your driveway or parking spot is delightful. It's nice to plop down your bags, check the mail, put on some comfy clothes and just sit and be calm in a place where you are the only one (mostly) to answer to. The grind is obnoxious at times, but the comforting rhythms of day-to-day life are what keep me centered, and I appreciate the rhythms I'm creating more and more.

Ah, home.