a new year

"....Some things
you know all your life. They are so simple and true
they must be said without elegance, metre and rhyme,
they must be laid on the table beside the salt shaker,
the glass of water, the absence of light gathering
in the shadows of the picture frames, they must be
naked and alone, they must stand for themselves." - Philip Levine, "The Simple Truth"

These lines struck me today as a reframed version of this past year. I am learning things I should already know and have mastered. I find these lesson make my agony with Calculus and Greek seem pleasant. Unemployment is one of the hardest things with which I've dealt. Living in North Carolina again has provided opportunities for growth and learning. Teaching seventh grade has taught me so much. This year allowed me a new perspective on myself-- a perspective that was not the most flattering but necessary. This year was trying on bikinis in florescent lighting in front of an audience. Looking in mirrors is complex. Usually what I discover from looking in the mirror is not how I actually look, but what mood I'm in. It's hard to observe the object (my body in this case) at which I'm looking because of the many distractions and filters in my head.

The lessons applyed have been on patience, hope, and identity. Or, humility. I've had no place to hide from my inadequacy. My excuses and whining failed me! For instance, I could no longer place all the blame on the guys I dated; it occurred to me that I had the most hang-ups. The job search forced me to view my limits in bravery and confidence; I found getting up after each fall got harder and harder then the process plateaued when I accepted how little control I have over somebody hiring me... or the applicant pool. And writing, it's a lot of work. Teaching has high-lighted my failure to communicate expectation; I can't assume the other person shares the expectation. And, seventh grade has emphasized how high strung I can be. I'm forced into getting more relaxed. I don't think a single lesson has gone as planned. The interruptions and schedule shifts addelpate me, but I'm learning to function in disaster and finish in style. It requires adjustments and flexibility.

I have to recalibrate what success looks like with teaching. Today as I walked to my car, a student and his friend came up to me while they were riding bikes. I heard somebody yell, "Ms. M!" and watched to bikes drive up. We chatted and I asked him how much he had read. He responded with a grin, "I haven't read nothing!" As I got in my car I rolled my eyes, thinking about his double negative: "What a proud moment for me as a Language Arts teacher!" Then, I realized that I was framing the picture wrong. My student could have easily avoided me, but he came up and engaged me. He wanted me to see his new bike, meet his friend and tell me about his break. That's success.

Likewise, the wide girth of my inadequacy is a canvass for God's grace and goodness... a portal to reality. The wardrobe's door. Last January, I wrote "resistance" on the palm of my hand in response to a question Brian McLaren asked. I think, this year has erradicated a lot of that resistance.