revamp

I need to revamp busy-- to figure out the architecture of balance. It pains me to reach this point, but I think I need a schedule. I was so productive in high school, and it was due to the structure of my time. Breakfast check in was by 7:45 am. Study hall was from 8-9:30. Sports 3:30-5:30. Lights out was at 11. Everything was so nice and slotted. I still managed to have a ton of fun and down time: it was called the weekend.

Structure and order are not a bad thing. I need a time budget in order to prioritize my priorities. It sucks when I get to the end of the day and am too exhausted to read or journal. And, it's my own fault. I'm responsible for letting myself get to the point where I resent my job. I think this schedule thing will function as a type of boundary.

We shall see. Today was a day that made me consider a leave of absence. But, it was redeemed by the meeting after school-- they fed us Outback chicken, salad and potato. The restaurant donated it to the new teachers. And, the Junior League donated cook books. Awesome.

hatchin' a plot, schemin' a scheme

and listening to the new U2. Tonight after meeting with the accredidation/certification specialist for my LEA and discussing the courses I need to take to get certified, I'm jazzed about the classes I have to take. For instance, a college level grammar class is on the list. Is that cool or what? And, we're talking adolescent literature and European history and some other groovy classes. Then, there's middle school methodology. I have a deep-seated disdain for people who use the word "methodology" over "methods" in the same manner I loathe "utilize" over "use" and "distinctive" over "distinct" or the word "unique". They're loaded with pretense and self-importance and lack basic logic and understanding.

And, this excitement over classes is balancing out the hope that's expanding in my soul's defunct hope factory. I'm writing cover letters to schools where I'd love to teach and in cities where I'd love to live and subjects I'd love to teach. It's encouraging to apply to these schools that are out of my league. Writing these letters reminds me of all of the stuff out in the world that I long to do. I'm not dried and shrivelled yet. But, the letter-writing is reminding me of the things I have to offer and spurring me to take classes to keep growing. So, I'm trying to framing this experience as movement in the right direction. I'll probably be here another year, but I'll be more practiced with applications and interviewing and more learned.

School wasn't that bad today. When I started to get panicky and weepy, I wrote a list of small tasks to accomplish, and it got me back on track.

Plus, I'm considering joining a master's rowing team to get my butt in shape and meet some people I have something in common with.

tangential meditation

My life is one long, lovely tangent. It seems I always end up perpendicular to my goal. For instance, today. I got onto Itunes to purchase Josh Ritter's "Kathleen". Ten minutes later, I bought Dar Williams' "The Beauty of the Rain" (and no Josh Ritter).

Or, earlier this evening, I left the cloth store to go to Office Depot to buy some plastic sleeves for my students' notebooks. I landed across the street from Office Depot at Target where I bought contact lens cleaner, hygiene products, including a toothbrush, several greeting cards, a plastic box, and heart shaped York peppermint patties. I didn't exactly execute Plan A.

I find I do this whenever I work or write. I set out on what seems to be an obvious, straightforward path and end up somewhere else. This afternoon I wanted to work on lesson plans. Instead, I did four loads of laundry, cleaned and organized my bedroom and bathroom. My essential goal of being productive was met, but I didn't hit my target at all.

I have a knack for getting lost. It's rarely a "in the dark of an eerie forest with an evil villain chasing you" kind of lost. It's a more of a "rambling in an Greek village where none of the citizens speak English and realize you have no idea how to get back to your hotel" kind of lost.

I wonder if my goal-setting mechanism is faulty or if I'm allergic to every To Do List I write. I love writing TDLs. In fact, my lengthy lists always become jokes with my roommates because I never look at them again. I'm a Random Abstract in a world of Concrete Sequential. It's odd because I'm so terribly pragmatic. In short, I'm a dessert recipe that calls for a tablespoon of tarragon. I just need to chillax as my twelve year-olds tell me.

Whenever I needle myself about this idiosyncracy, I inevitable return to the JRR Tolkien poem:

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

In a world of shiny people who write and execute 10 year plans, I feel like a wandering, lackluster dolt. But, perhaps, this is not so. Perhaps, my proclivity for getting lost is a gift. Maybe my tangent is leading to the exact point I need to be in the straightest way. The tangential nature of me and my life leaves me feeling like a stranger in a strange land. And, after all, I am. We're on a journey where not all gold glitters nor those who wander are necessarily lost. This is not what Madison Ave. would have us believe. So, I gain my bearings by burrowing into every glorious story I can get my grubby hands on.

aptitude

The Johnson O'Connor Research Foundation Bulletin 165 arrived in the mail today. I devoured it promptly. The bulletin had an article on family members and how their aptitudes played out in their careers. JOCRF has done aptitude testing and research since 1922; the test is performance based rather than interest based. It's not about what you like, it's about what you are good at-- there's not always a correlation. There are two sessions of testing when you play with blocks and tweezers, listen to fake words and tones, compare colors, et cetera. I thoroughly enjoyed the testing.

Ultimately, I found the test results encouraging. I have six really strong, extremely bizarre aptitudes and about ten skills that I fail at. I have a cousin who took it and he scored moderately in most everything (which is how most C-level execs score). Seriously, my little line of bar graphs is a source of entertainment, where his are nice and steady.

I took the test my second year out of university. It's helpful but vague. It gives fields that play to your strengths and others that would thwart them. Their philosophy on aptitude can be summed up in this analogy: a guy who's 5'4" can play in the NBA, but a guy who's 6'7" will never be a jockey. Essentially, a person's strengths define her more than her weaknesses. I can improve my manual dexterity by sewing and palying the piano but I cannot ignore my ideaphoria by becoming a CPA. JOCRF contends that most mid-life crisises and identity issues come from people not using their aptitudes.

It was to get the bulletin and recall my bizarreness. Here's a link to an article"On Aptitudes". Here's jocrf.org.