Perhaps the longest hiatus from this blog I’ve ever taken, just then.
In recent weeks, the firey education zest I was harboring slowed a little. I drove for, google tells me, 32 hours as I traveled from A (Dumas) to B (Chicago) to D (Novi), E (Detroit) to F (Memphis) back to G (Dumas). I can say without pity or upset that it was likely the worst up north trip I’ve taken since moving to the delta. Sounds awful, right? Except it’s not awful.
The primary reason why I didn’t love going is because I genuinely missed Arkansas, and for the most part would rather have been here. Being an adult, making a very intentional point to see all the people I can while in each city, has become something of a stomach ache. The past two years seeing friends was what sustained me for the coming four or six months before the next trip. Now, the four or six months down south sustain me for the few stressful, solitary days where I visit. I love seeing friends and family, but driving allowed a lot of thinking time. There were plenty of minutes to be angry at some of the summer characters in my story, to stress about the plans I’ve yet to write (still), to contemplate how much I do or don’t hate or love teaching, to curse the failed plans I drove 20 minutes or 14 hours to get to (depending how you think about it), to praise my family for planning such a beautiful celebration for my grandpa’s 90th birthday, and to straight up weep for missing my mother.
My week of professional development (which ended Thursday) had me both seething and livid at points, then bubbly and energized at others. I managed to be a major player in talking to a ton of teachers about repairing the broken master and duty schedules, something that took most of the time I had reserved for planning. It was calming to make posters for JL’s Spanish room instead of my own.
I can’t say much about the entrance to my third year in the classroom, which begins with students tomorrow, except that I’m oddly comfortable under this layer of anxiety. And compared to my first year, I don’t know if I could even call this anxiety.
Two other ELA teachers and I long term planned to run the Little Rock Marathon in March. Yes, marathon. Full. We started with a three miler yesterday (I call myself a runner but could hardly finish that run… summer brought the self-destruction of my own body), and are doing a half marathon in November.
This week I’ve spent quite a bit of time crying, and most of the time I can’t tell what from. Usually I blame this on missing my mother, or PMS. But it might be more social, personal, stressful than I’m willing to admit. Not that I’m aching or broken or a mess, just documenting.
Here’s to tomorrow. Here’s to Delta Year Three.