This has been a weekend of second guessing and that life-in-a-haze feeling that I always go through when life is in a "change" phase. But on Saturday morning, I sat in a six person graduate class, taking notes, watching videos, looking over a syllabus. The other five future teachers and I exchanged stories of how nearly everyone who wasn't a close friend or family member said, "You're so crazy! What are you doing?! I could never do that!" When they told them that they were pursuing a career in public education. One woman, an athletic, spunky woman named Laura, left her job of 20 years to be in this program. As an engineer. Now she's gonna teach high school math.
And I was nervous. Of course I went through that feeling where I wondered what I was doing, even though this is just a year. I've been told that this is a mistake. I've thought this. I've thought of the days I spent at the YMCA Summer Camp not knowing how to deal with the teenagers, the days of Comp when I walked out frustrated and exhausted after only one class. But then our program advisor came in, and she talked to us about what other people will say. And she gave us a pep talk, and then we talked about our experience so far, and then we talked about how we belonged there. And then I thought about teaching high school versus college, and I thought about how much psychology and education we'd be discussing in this class. We talked about the differences in teaching high school versus college, the balance of teaching content versus teaching life skills and understanding how adolescents learned.
My favorite part of Comp was conferences, getting to know the students, wondering why they chose their paper topics, how they were surviving as students. I loved what I taught them, but I always wondered if my insane drive to learn more about psychology would ever come into play. I think I might not have the brains and general knowledge to teach college, but I just care about people enough to teach them to read, how to get excited about education, and how to grow up. Maybe a prerequisite to teaching high school is having at least a couple of years of high school hell.
This first class felt right. It did. We've been assigned readings about how the brain works, and I'm excited for it. We've watched movies about teachers who struggle from day one, and I'm nervous about it. But Jean, I tell myself. That's why you're here. You're nervous because you don't know how to do any of this yet. In a year, you'll be ready. You will know how to handle these students, and you'll combine your love of English and psychology and teaching and learning--and you'll have a job that you've decided in the past year you needed to make you happy: no answering to the numbers of a business, no sitting at a cube and trying not to make eye contact so people can't see how sad and out of place you are, no more wondering where you'll find yourself in a career and how it will be anything like you, because maybe you don't know education so well because you've been in it so long--maybe you've been in it so long because it's where you're supposed to be. That's why you keep going back. Not because you don't know what else to do, because you just love all those student loans, or because you're afraid of trying something else. It's because no other career could make you feel better. The lows are different kinds of lows, at least. The kind that still have an inkling of hope hiding underneath them; the chance to move forward instead of in circles, if only just mentally. You're not trapped in your room, in your cube, at least for now.
So, yes. This pep talk sounds kind of lame, but it's just that I've had a lot on my mind. Not necessarily about whether I've made the right decision for this next year, because a change in my life is past due. But after this, when I've got a year in high school under my belt, I wonder what will happen.
Some shit will go down this next year, and I'll find myself unable to sleep and repeating records on the phonograph. I will. I'll blog about whether I'm doing the right thing, and whether I am the kind of person who can survive with teenagers. But, hey. The first thing we learned in EDUC 605 was that an attitude about what you're doing dictates your entire day, year, career. And I just know I had this odd last year so I can reflect on it when I'm wondering about the decisions I've made. I can think about all of the interviews, the job hunts, the cover letters, the speeding tickets I got on 35W the same week I lost my job. I can think about what I've lost and gained, how I'm actually excited to put most of my things in storage and just move my bed, music, and books down to Rochester. Yes. Some shit will go down, but I'm motivated, I've found myself back in school, but this time it's with much more of a mission than it's ever been. Like a year of career training. Some people think I'm nuts, I"ll be poor for the rest of my life, I can't do this. But. I keep thinking: somebody has to do this. Somebody has to have a passion to work with high school students, to keep an enthusiasm for learning, to address "challenges" instead of "problems." How long until a teacher loses this attitude?
Who knows. But here are some pictures of the farmhouse and the land. If anything, I get this for a year, and I can't imagine anything better. Moving from this cute, tiny house on this busy, claustrophobic street, to this country which loves the colors blue, green, and brown. And it hasn't even truly bloomed yet.
Creek in the backyard.
Garage, house, giant backyard tree.
View in the chicken coop turned work space/shed. It's a green building perpendicular to the garage. James also has snowmobiles in it. Notice the tin roof, which is the reason why I'll be in there often when it rains.
Baby spruce in the front yard.
One of James' gardens. Notice the moat to keep out the weeds, and possibly the naughty, naughty rabbits.
Me in front of the garden. I hope James will teach me (or at least let me watch) the harvest this fall--of sweet corn, pumpkins, blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, and whatever else these little buds are going to turn in to. He's also planted fresh herbs, and maybe I can talk him into some flowers to keep on the deck. This is the year. When I'll wish for longer days and more time, leave the need for a long afternoon nap in the city and instead find myself walking along the creek, dreaming up poems that I'll dismiss too quickly except for occasional sounds and lines. This is the year I'll find time to enjoy this open air, green land, and new running routes on dirt paths.
And, yes. I know you're going to give me worst kind of shit for this, but I bought a gardening hat. Hey. All it took was new, cute short socks to get me running again.
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