Bedazzled Footsteps

"The best way to predict the future is to create it."

Yesterday I had a conversation about how we have to respect each other’s circumstances, and note that what the next [wo]man has been through may not seem as rough as what you’ve endured, but it doesn’t negate their experience. Our tragedies feel tragic to us, and it’s not for anyone else, necessarily, to feel us on them. The same thing goes for our triumphs. What I accomplish may sound little next to what you’ve accomplished, but they’re still my accomplishments, not knowing what it feels like to have accomplished yours and can only rejoice from my own perspective.

Blah blah blah. Yeah, I know.

So, right now I’m having another of those moments where my life feels charmed. I don’t mean it like things just fall in my lap, but in the sense that I set my sights on things for 1 reason and get to see a the bigger picture later. My small steps put right in line with my next major thing.

For example:

I applied to the DC Teacher’s Writing Project. No one had any doubts I’d be accepted, but I kept it humble and went through the interview process and the seemingly endless wait time to hear the final word. In other words, I hung my Goddess status up on the mantle and went through the process as human. As I said in some earlier post, I got accepted. That means this summer I’ll spend beefing up my own writing skills while also learning and practicing the best methods for teaching students to write.

Now to tie it to something.

I’ve been in something akin to teaching exile this school year. The class I’ve been teaching for the last 8 months was jokingly referred to as the Dark Arts (Harry Potter) because it becomes something different every year, with a new teacher to boot. Teaching limbo, the transition before the next thing. I still don’t know what the next something is, just that I’ll be returning to the classroom.

This is where the shine comes in.

As per my principal, part of next year’s focus is to grow our children’s writing skills. Guess what I’ll be prepared to do?

That all may sound really simple and perhaps really unimportant to you. To me, it’s yet another “you are where you are supposed to be, doing what you’re supposed to do” confirmation. This school year has taught me a great deal of unintentional lessons. I intend to take these into my next role and grow my practice. I’m excited about doing so, slightly fearful of being so inundated with ideas that I disappoint myself by only attacking as many as humanly possible, instead of teaching what is (Goddess-ly) possible. Work with me, people. As a teacher I am a constant learner, and I have learned that my intentions for the children are often not what is called for and in the end they will take from me what they need, not necessarily what I thought I wanted them to have.

So it shall be. They will be my parasites and I will adoringly, faithfully, painfully, begrudgingly, and selflessly allow them to feed on my intentions. This may not sound like an accomplishment to many of you, if any of you. I am a teacher, and it makes perfect sense to me.

I am walking the path that was both chosen for me and by me, each brick carefully laid, each step carefully placed. Few things could be sweeter.

Watch me move [back into play].