I am not a morning person, but morning is my favorite part of the day. It's quiet save for the birds. It's calm save for the rumbling of the train. It's tranquil. It's peace. It's all the things I know I will miss if I slept a little later, and none of the things I end up missing because sleeping-in is not a part of my makeup. It's Labor Day weekend once again, where I feel the need to rush to every pool before each closes for the season. To top off my reserve of vitamin D, or to do something outside. The thing I remember most about September (apart from a very rare Indian summer), is that the weather changes quickly to cool mornings & evenings. This is probably simultaneously what I love and hate most about the NorthEast: as soon as you get used to it, it ends; but then again, somehow, you meet toe-to-toe around the very next corner. This post is short but sweet: it's a "good luck" to all teachers & students who are starting up again, it's a cheers to a new season in a new year, it's taking a moment to find a short pause in the day to realize that sometimes the universe speaks loudest in the odd waking hours of an early morn. And thank God that it does.
Well, it's certainly been a while since any of us posted something in our Gratitude Blog - that's not to say there's been nothing, but perhaps as summer often is a respite for teachers, it was a break from this, too.
This was the sweet summer that didn't especially feel like summer at all: temperatures weren't grueling, we had a much warmer version of winter's polar vortex sometime in July, I didn't get 1 mosquito bite, and I didn't make it to my family's pool club (Shore Acres, Mamaroneck, NY).
I was just saying to a good friend of mine that when people reflect on a summer, they usually identify it with an event like "the summer I went to Cyprus" or "that summer I worked in stop-motion animation in NC." For me, this was the summer I taught a gifted program on Speaking, Reading, Writing as well as Sports, in Princeton; spent a lovely week with great people in the Outer Banks; visited my family pretty often in New York; spent 6 hours on the couch on days where I planned nothing for myself; watched a tattoo being inked for the first time ever- cool tattoo, Brooke!; made new friends; played softball for a large part of every Sunday; was asked to be maid of honor in one of my best friend's weddings; ate too much pizza; tried Federal Donuts; had a one-day vacation with my parents at Mohegan Sun; went to my cousin Michael's college graduation party; joined Barre3 classes; dumped a bowl of icy warm (secret's out!) water on my head; donated to further research on the disease known as Progeria; etc. I don't know which of these things will be a landmark stamp on my memory for summer 2014... but those memories are sort-of the film-negatives-in-wait to be developed in permanence on the Summer 2014 reel of my mind.
Since Yardley's Shady Brook Farm has been put up to the task of reminding me that summer is coming to a close "23 more days until Pumpkin Ice Cream!" And Starbucks is releasing their pumpkin latte a good month too soon, I suppose I should brace myself for the fact that regular work starts up again next week, and it's back to daily commutes to Princeton in addition to getting used to thinking in & deciphering two languages for 10 hours a day. Je suis pret! (sans accent...)
It's been a while since I've written; not because I've forgotten, but mostly because I wanted to write when I actually had something to say. Yesterday marked the end of another school year -- my fourth-- as a teacher, and becomes what is now a foray into the landmark "5th year." For some reason, "statisticians" love to hover around the 5th year of teaching…"if you make it until your 5th year, you're a teacher for life!" " X % of teachers will leave the field before their 5th year of teaching…" I get it. I've felt it. I was going to leave teaching, most certainly, each year before this one. I have spent almost 4 summers of my life on the fence about whether to stay or to go and when and where- it was awful! It feels like a lifetime since I've been able to say that I know where I will be in the fall, and that's pretty darn good feeling. Finally, I anticipate a summer where I can enjoy myself instead of dreading a smattering of interviews and their requisite callbacks (or not) and having to make life-altering (for me) decisions of where to accept a job, and what the implications would then be for the people I love most in my life.
To put it in a bit of perspective: I was on a Caribbean island, 3 summers ago, when I accepted a teaching job in NC that would require me to move back down there (I had previously moved back to NY from there just 1.5 years prior), and then I was on the same Caribbean island the year after that when I turned down a very prestigious teaching job in NY because I wasn't ready to leave North Carolina (even though I didn't enjoy the job I was in there). Then, the year after that, while on vacation in Mexico, I resigned from my NC post to accept what I very quickly learned would be the most awful job of my life, thus far, at a school in the NYC public school system. What did that job acceptance then entail? I had to drive, alone, 11 hrs, down to NC and pack up 2 years of my life (one I loved very much). It took me days without any help- My belongings and my life there were shoved into every available seat of my black Nissan, as I trekked back, alone, on an 11 hour journey from NC to NY. Poof! Nothing about that summer was enjoyable. Now, fast-foward to last summer-- it was fantastic because I knew I would be working at a new school in the fall (FASP), but it was also unnerving because I had to relocate once more, and didn't know at all what the work year would bring.
This summer, on my very first day of summer vacation, I don't have to worry about any of that. Instead, I look back on this past year, and I feel really grateful. I went from jobs I could't stand (and consequently; well, more more accurately than consequently is: evidently-- jobs where it seemed like my bosses couldn't stand me or had no interest in me) to one where I didn't dread going back to work on Mondays after a "too-short" weekend. Where I was given compliments not only on my teaching ability but on my character. Where I walked down the hallway each day and received a most beautiful smile wishing me a good morning (Marielle). Last year? in some instances I was scowled at or completely ignored when I greeted people; and I never got used to the insult of both of those things.
Now, I've said goodbyes to children & staff this summer and truly know that no extenuating circumstance will prevent me from missing them for the 10 weeks we are off (I've missed and continue to miss students/coworkers at all schools I've been at- but it was always overshadowed by being unhappy in my place of work) or forever (Nathalie, you need to come back & teach with me again someday). It's taken me 4 years to find this, and in the grand scheme of life that may not seem like a lot, but for me that is an eternity. It felt like a journey through black hole of job-related unhappiness to find what I have found, and I am thankful.
Now, don't get me wrong, I have been very careful with compartmentalizing my feelings; I tell myself things like: "Allow yourself to feel 75% happiness with any degree of comfort, because it could take just 25% or 15% or 1% to change and make you upset with work." A fool's errand would be to really go headfirst into ANYTHING, and think that it can't or won't change. Life changes, people change, ideals & ideas change. So with that, I look back on this work year with gratitude and look forward to next with hope (and a healthy degree of change ((not Obama's change- MY change)) ) because you never know who (M.J. et N. G.-S.) or what will become your beacon of light - your rayon de soleil.
This week wraps up finals week at both universities that I teach at - woohoo!! Trust me, teachers love summer break just as much as the students.
Yesterday, I had a hilarious/awkward interview for a local tv station. Let's just say, I will stick to staying BEHIND the camera from now on.
One of the questions I was asked was if I prefer teaching kids, teens, college or seniors. Each age group brings something different to the table. I answered with kids and followed up by saying how important it is for kids to be exposed to the arts. Art helps them to express their personalities, they can bend the rules with their imagination, and hopefully will allow them to appreciate art when they are older.
I finished hanging an art show today for the Salvation Army - I was the judge for a contest called "Born to stand out." Kids from the city of Reading had the opportunity to participate in the contest. There was an art opening, prizes, and a chance for the winners to be displayed at a local art center.
The kids were only given crayons and paper that were donated and were asked to draw what makes them stand out.
The entries were so fun to "judge" and probably one of the hardest contests I had to pick winners for - all were unique and special.
Art is important and I encourage you to allow your kids to color outside the lines, maybe the wall....but, help them to cultivate their appreciation for art.
Well, it has been a really long time since I posted!! I recently started playing soccer again. Anybody that knew me in high school and college knew that my weekends were always swamped with tournaments, games or coaching.
After moving back from England, I coached under eight soccer. It was so much fun, and it kept me involved in the game. However, I haven't actually played soccer in about 10 years!
Throughout my career in soccer, I had a lot of people come out and watch me play. My mom and dad traveled a lot with me throughout high school and my aunt and uncle always jumped at the opportunity to come watch me play in a tournament up in New England. It just so happened that they were in town yesterday. I asked them if they wanted to come over and watch me play.
A few minutes into the first half they showed up with my dad. It was so fun to have them there. I may have actually gone a little overboard trying to show that I could still be in the game 10 years later. (Insert twisted ankle and torn quad here)
On my way home from work the other day, I hit a large pocket of traffic, and decided that for once, I would do something other than A) look around me to see if other drivers were as pissed at the inconvenience B) Call my usual suspects to kill time. Instead, I decided it was time for a podcast, and pulled up a featured "This American Life" episode.
For those of you who don't know, This American Life is a weekly public radio show broadcast on more than 500 stations to about 2.1 million listeners. It's produced by Chicago Public Media and is also often the most popular podcast in the county. So in this particular recording, the show was called "No Coincidence, No Story!" and is a compilation of people's stories of coincidence. Boring, right? Wrong. I listened to a man tell a story of how his new friend sent him a picture of herself as a child, and in the background, was the man's grandmother walking by. Coincidences are exacerbated by things like time & space. This was decades earlier, the families did not know each other, and it was in an unpopular vacation spot thousands of miles away from their respective homes. The list goes on.
Anyway, after listening to this podcast I got to thinking of all of the things I have as coincidences in my life. Perhaps I should mention that this podcast leans towards "coincidences" as sometimes divine intervention; I don't know my position on that. Coincidences are things that are statistically possible (at least in my mind), some sort of universal force playing a part is something else. I believe in both. First, I tried to think of what was the BIGGEST coincidence I ever experience in my life. Here are a few: The time I was sitting in 8th grade math or english class and one of my classmates said, "I have a piano lesson today." In my true form and in what I thought would be funny, I figured I would just throw an obviously incorrect piano-teacher-name out there for some laughs. "Oh, you mean with Pat?" I smirked. The reply I received was, "YES! You know her too?" #dumbfounded. This also happened again this year, but with a different name, person, and location. What are the chances this would happen? With all the names out there? Is it hard to imagine? Of course. Is it statistically possible? Yes.
Another great coincidence story I have, perhaps my favorite, occurred the morning after the turn of the century: January 1st, 2000. The previous evening, I was dining at an upscale supper club in New York, called the Jazz Standard. My friends: Heidi, Josie, and Hartley, were enjoying a fine dinner here before embarking on a host of random "celebratory" events, and in our company, at dinner, was a precocious 6 year old named Lulu. Aside from thinking she was adorable in her trendy, asymmetrical haircut, I also noticed she was the only kid there and was the offspring of MUCH older parents. Who brings kids to these places? New Yorkers- now I know. I kept saying to my friends: "this kid has to be in movies or tv. She looks like she could be in a magazine."
The next morning, when I got back home to Westchester county, on the kitchen table was an issue of Parenting magazine. I flipped through. In the magazine was Lulu; to this day, I still have her ripped-out photo in my nightstand. I wasn't holding onto her picture- quite frankly, I didn't know her-- I was holding onto what I felt was the miracle in things.
Now, above all of these other kinds of coincidences…those which are statistically near or entirely impossible. They are the things that haven't really happened to me directly, but have happened to things involving me or my loved ones. At the risk of sounding hokey, I will share the abridged version here: I lost my handheld digital camera after being home around Christmas-time. On it, were recent pictures I had taken of our family during our annual Christmas tree outing up to some-farm in Connecticut. Anyway, I could have sworn that when we returned, I put the camera in my bag to take back to PA. I needed to edit those pictures and run by my family for approval before sending out to get out Christmas card printed (yup, we still do that). I returned to PA, and opened my bag: no camera. I kept seeing myself place the camera in the bag, so I tore apart my car thinking that the camera would be there- perhaps it fell out?: nothing. Next: I called my mom and asked her to search my living quarters (the attic) back at their house because for-sure the camera had to be there: nothing. For days: nothing. Even after video footage taken of all the places she had searched (thanks mom): nothing. I had resolved that the camera was gone, untraceable & unfound, and I would just have to move on from it.
2-3 weeks later, a picture was sent to my phone from my mom: my camera sitting on my bed. You're probably thinking that we just didn't see it. Maybe it it was caught up in the sheets, right? Nope. On the video footage my mom had sent weeks earlier, was a bed stripped and its sheets washed. Nothing was on that bed. Nothing was in the sheets my mom picked apart, and most thankfully, nothing had gone through the wash. I have two angels who look out for me, and my mom reminds me sometimes that in the small gestures of seemingly statistical impossibility, things happen because we are meant to find or experience them. It is the intention of those looking down on us. It is statistically impossible that a 3 pound camera can move itself to my bed. It is statistically almost certain that a human is able to pick up and place a camera on that bed. It is statistically improbable that ANY of the humans who live in that house would have taken this camera and place it on my bed; and here is why: 4/5 of them didn't and don't know the camera even exists. No one remembered anything about the camera I used at the farm. And like me, 1/5 of them believes in the beauty of the things we just cannot explain. And if we do- you know, believe in these types of miracles- we have to accept the reality that our words have reducing powers; this reduction, the one we throw around so effortlessly: the "coincidence." -Christina
It's no surprise to anyone (except maybe octogenarians in Florida) that it's been one heck of a winter. I know an Indian summer is when warmer weather extends far into Autumn; if there is an equivalent for a never-ending winter, we've certainly had it.
Recently, we've seen weather out of the teens, 20's, 30's and 40's, and have been able to enjoy a warm & cheery landscape; it's been great! I've enjoyed opening my balcony door and all of the windows and watching my cats run for "the great outdoors" in much the same way they do when hearing a can of cat food <pop> open.
I don't complain about winters, but I truly appreciate the changing of seasons into weather that allows my limbs to feel the warmth of the sun. I don't think I would appreciate it as much- the high of winter melting into spring- if I lived a two-season state such as California, or if my summers consisted of 100+ degrees and 100% humidity. I've lived in places like that, and I have to say that while I never had to dread a winter there, I never got used to having to dread my summers.
So here is to spring/summer in the Northeast. I know you can't beat our Cherry Blossoms, but I am convinced, too, that you can't beat the fresh warmth of our Spring/Summers.
First post in a long time... After a few crazy, weeks, I can finally say I see the light at the end of the tunnel. We moved out of our old house, stored our belongings and stayed at my parents for 2 weeks. Thank goodness they were away so our moving in did not disrupt their lives all that much. We closed on a fixer-upper house in a great neighborhood so between unpacking and plans for renovations, it has been a very stressful time. On this beautiful Saturday, watching my children play safely outside made all of this stress worth it. - Hayley
Last night, after a grueling softball practice, I called my very close friend, Heidi, to compare notes. She answered the phone by saying," oh my gosh, I am sore already." Like me, she picked up playing her sport again (soccer) after some time: a decade hiatus for her. Yesterday, she had a game, and I had a practice.
We are both considerably older since the time when we were very fit and star athletes ...and it's been fun to share our experiences together of returning to the game not only "x yrs older" but x lbs. heavier." <we laugh>
I'm proud of us. It's not easy to have the expectation to be as good as you once were, and I know that regardless, we both enjoy our respective sports as well as being active & out there. I can only speak for myself on this one, but a true sign of horrible soreness to come is when you're sore 5 mins into practice. That was me, yesterday. Needless to say, I can barely move today, but I feel motivated, healthy, and excited about my commitment to the team.
Going out there in the field is having the mechanical ability to play like an 18 yr old in the body of an out-of-shape 32 year old. While I've always prided myself on my natural athletic ability, I'm up to the challenge of building endurance and stamina so that the ONLY thing different about then and now is merely a number <age>. In spite of it all, yesterday I got a few "wows." It's good to be back.
A week ago I celebrated the engagement of my oldest friend, Ginger. We were born 5 days apart and lived one block from each other. We went to camp together, walked to school together, sold chocolate chip cookies in my alley, roamed the neighborhood, attended the same church, celebrated our birthdays at TGIFriday's for years. I was thrilled to be invited to her party, eat fabulous food, drink wine and watch Ginger open her gifts. Even though we don't chat every day, I still considered Ginger one of my good friends and certainly my oldest friend. We always had a running joke that I was FIVE days older. Hummm, as we get older, not sure if I want to boast on that fact anymore :)
We are friends and graduates of Muhlenberg college, who, upon the passing of our 10th year out of school, have decided upon this project: Gratitude on the Daily. Life is as crazy as they say, but we've made it our mission to stop for a moment, and capture the things we are grateful for. Please enjoy our one year project of all the things we stop, capture, and write about. #grateful