Going Home

It is interesting how something can start out one way and end up another. When I left my teaching job in Florida to move to Virginia I thought that I would never find another school as wonderful as the one I left. I was close to so many people there and I loved being there. I would go in early and stay late. I loved being around the kids. I rarely took a sick day in the three years that I taught there. Quite often kids would stay after school to help me do things in the room and I was more than happy to have them around for the company as well as for the help. The faculty became like my family. I loved being surrounded by their collective knowledge not only of their subjects but of the craft of teaching.

I gave my notice right before the start of the new school year when my husband started a new job in Virginia. I reported to work anyway to get things ready for my replacement. People wondered why I had even bothered to work when I could have enjoyed a few weeks of vacation time, but I couldn’t imagine not being there to help out at the beginning of the year which is such a busy time. The last few days I was there were spent saying good-bye and taking pictures. I was like a middle school kid who was having a hard time leaving her friends on the last day of school knowing that she would probably never see them again. It became a joke around school that if someone was looking for me all they needed to do was roam the halls. I could be found out there hugging someone.  It was so hard to leave. That final day I just kept hanging around. I actually sat in the front office making sure that I got to see everyone before they left for the day.

Arriving at my new school was a shock. It seemed so technology and test-score driven. Once again I put in long hours trying to advance my craft. The teachers there didn’t seem as friendly and I felt alone most of the time my first year. The collaboration that had happened so naturally at my previous school just didn’t exist at this one. Instead there was a feeling of competition that I had never experienced before. Sharing wasn’t very open in my department and those things that were shared seemed contrary to what I knew the teaching research showed.  My department head at the time was stressed out and seemed on the verge of a break down.

The kids seemed more distant too. I was used to kids who had little so the time and attention you gave them meant everything. These kids were used to adults doing things for them constantly. I will never forget that first year when I was told that my duty period would consist of running forgotten lunches to kids whose parents had brought them to the office and making sure that kids got the messages that their parents had phoned into the office.  It proved to be challenging going from teaching 6^th graders who still loved and wanted you (almost too much!)  to teaching 8^th graders who were too cool to give you the time of day. They were intimidating and they were so much bigger than my 6^th graders.   

Over the years though things started to change. New teachers came to our school with fresh ideas similar to the ones I had brought with me originally. A spirit of collaboration was born. I began to appreciate the technology and looked at it not as a hindrance but as a way to reach students who I might not have reached otherwise. I began to view testing as simply one way to measure my success in the classroom, but I remembered to keep it in perspective. As I put in my hours I became a better teacher for it. The parental involvement became a blessing when it came to dealing with discipline issues. The 8^th grade attitude became a strength once they were sold.  If they were sold on me they would do what was asked of them. Once the toughest critic in the class was sold you had them all.  I began to love the challenge that each day brought. I looked at my classroom as a living, breathing experiment that I got to be a part of every day. It was exciting.

Slowly over the years deep relationships with other teachers began to form. The Art teacher became a friend as we would discuss how art and literature could be used together many a Friday afternoon when all had left and the halls were dark and silent. The Librarian and I would discuss our desires to write while sitting in her office planning my latest attempt to make research more real and exciting for the kids. The Reading Specialist and I would discuss new reading strategies that we had tried to help our kids become better readers thus allowing an entire new world to open up to them. The new English teacher across the hall and I discussed at length and almost daily how we could engage our kids in writing and we both attended a summer college class that would help us to answer that very question. That class marked a turning point in my understanding of writing and thus put me on the path where I am today.

I loved getting paid to learn, and I got paid to sell kids on the joy of learning. I got paid to teach kids that their voice matters and that their story matters. So how could I give up all of that to stay home? How could I give up a job where there were so few days when I didn’t want to be there?

I ran into one of my teacher friends randomly this week when I was picking up my oldest from preschool. She was planning to enroll her son there for the fall and she happened to mention that Spring Fest was that night at school. Spring Fest is a way for the students to showcase their talents. Guests eat a fundraising dinner while enjoying performances by the chorus and band to name a few. There is an art exhibit and the book fair is also going on in the library. I knew immediately that I wanted to go and for some reason I had thought that it had already happened so I was even happier that the possibility had presented itself. It would be a great opportunity to see my teacher friends and for them to see the baby. Most had not seen her since she was a few months old.

It proved to be a wonderful evening. I took the baby and even students who I had never taught came running up to me calling my name to tell me how beautiful she was. I was able to get some hugs and catch up on the latest Young Adult fiction which is still one of my favorite genres. It felt familiar and in a way it was like going back home. But you can’t stay at home because to stay would be to refuse to grow.

I am on to the next chapter. Staying home for me is not giving up. I feel as though I am making room. Writing takes room mentally. So this feels like the natural progression. All those teachers did for me what teachers do best- encourage. I am so thankful to them for supporting my decision to leave. Not one person said anything negative about my decision to stay home. Not one person gave me a funny look. My principal even ended my resignation conversation with a hug and told me I was always welcome to come back. They would be waiting. It was such a comforting thought at the time. One I needed to cling to as I wondered if I was making a huge mistake. Could I really make it and be happy as a stay at home mom? Would I be miserable? Would I be good at it? I am better because of them in so many ways- a better teacher, a better mom, and a better person. I want to grow. I want all that God has for me. I want to do now what I have been encouraging my students for years to do. I need to tell my story as only I can because for some reason not entirely known to me, it matters.  And quite simply, I must be obedient to that call.

Showing Up

This week it has been hard to just show up and write. I have been told that just showing up is one of the most important things you can do to lead a creative life.  It’s not that I have been avoiding it really. It has just been an extremely full week and I have found it hard to just drop everything and write. I pretty much had to force myself to leave all the things undone that are calling out for my attention right now like laundry needing folding, Vacation Bible School work needing to be done, thank you notes that need to be written, emails that need to be answered, and the straightening up that can always be done. But as they say, life is art and the act of art is exploration. So we shall see what happens by showing up today and I'm excited by the process.

Treasure

I feel a freedom this first week back at home that I haven’t felt in a long time. For the first time in a long time I am enjoying being home instead of feeling like my house is controlling me and running my life with constant bombarding thoughts such as, “I should be doing this right now”. Most days my mind felt scattered and it was difficult to concentrate on the task at hand.  Every day felt like a treadmill that I was unable to escape from. Sometimes you have to say goodbye to something that isn’t working even when you want it so desperately to work.

I had a discussion with my dad while visiting him. I actually wrote down in my day timer that I needed to talk to him about the way he organizes his calendar since he is one of the most organized people I know and has recently transitioned from working to being retired. That is how my mind is working these days. If it doesn’t get written down it might not happen and very likely won’t. Such is life right now. I’m hoping that one day when I get to sleep through the night that will change, but for now I am accepting it as it is and trying to get over it. My day timer system just isn’t working for me now that I’m not working outside of the home. There are too many things to write in it now that I don’t have a work calendar at school collecting the bulk of my day, those work related items and leaving only personal items on my personal calendar. Limited personal items I should add since most of my time was spent working. Now with my oldest in preschool and with my activities and new responsibilities that I have both in the home and out, the old way just hasn’t been adequate. I purchased a daily checklist calendar to supplement my current day timer to remind me of chores that needed to get done. It also included seasonal cleaning items. As much as I wanted and needed that system to work it began to create in me a feeling of bondage. It began to be a reminder of things that hadn’t been done and it became an unconscious source of stress. During our discussion my dad told me that I was micromanaging my organization. He should have just told me that I was being neurotic. He would have been entirely correct.

So I said goodbye to my little checklist this week. Sometimes the tidiest of things can cause the most trouble. I decided that it doesn’t matter that my house won’t win any awards for cleanliness like it would have for all those years without kids. People always used to comment on that when they would come over. Besides, who really is going to inspect my drawers but me?

I find it easy to get fearful of freedom and I suspect that it is a common issue for us women. I tend to want to fill empty spaces of all kinds with stuff of any sort. You name it- activities, bargain hunting and couponing, food, pointless computer surfing, wasteful shopping, and of course obsessive cleaning and its good friend organization. Then I have to ask myself, “What am I running from?” So often it is unpleasant, uncomfortable feelings. I read today in my devotion that things that cause us the most anxiety can also be the source of the most growth. So true in my life.  This school year staying home has made me realize that. I actually went into this stay-at-home mom stage of my life with very mixed emotions including a huge helping of fear. How could I manage my spirited preschooler while tending to the needs of a baby, manage a household, and step up my church volunteering all without losing myself and having  it all come crashing down on my head? In my mind there was so much to do, but the day seemed to stretch forever. What if I got bored? It sounds almost comical to me now.

It has all been a process this year of trying out different strategies to see what fits my mothering and homemaking styles and what works for my family. A checklist approach sure sounded good until I began to see others as a hindrance to my list of items to accomplish for the day. I began to suspect that I was in over my head when I read someone’s internet comment about this checklist approach telling the creator of it that she loved the system but she wanted to know when was she supposed to make time for her own “to do” list.  It was a wakeup call as I realized that I barely have time for my own list let alone someone else’s ideas of what needs to be accomplished.

So now I am trying a more flexible approach to homemaking. Emptying the garbage when the moment presents itself with a Monday/Friday routine ideal but knowing that life and people will get in the way of that sometimes and that is okay. And really, what pictures do I carry around to show people- not ones of my shining sink that is for sure.

The Bible says, “For where your treasure is there your heart will be also.” I don’t want my treasure to be in things or even in accomplishments.  I don’t want my kids to say one day, “Mom really kept an organized and clean house, but she didn’t make time for us.” That would really be a tragedy. So it is that the chains fell off this week and I am free. It turns out that the key was within my reach the entire time.

Reflections

“To live life to the fullest, share every last drop with the people you love.” (From Tea for Two by: Bob Fuller) 

It’s good to be back. Don’t get me wrong, I love visiting family, especially my dad and step-mom. There were visits to the zoo, parks, and the local children’s museum. I was able to catch up with my step-sister and my two nephews who I hadn’t seen in several years. I also visited with some long time family friends over dinner and saw an aunt, uncle, and cousin on my mom’s side over brunch. We flew a kite with my uncle and his wife on my dad's side, or maybe I should say the kite flew us. The kids got spoiled with way too many wonderful things. We celebrated Easter and my dad’s birthday. I also bonded with my dad over shopping for a new daytimer (I know, I’m a nerd) and bonded with my step-mom over shopping for kindergarten preparation materials at the local teacher store.  I enjoyed three worship experiences at their church and there were multiple trips to Wal-Mart and Costco for essentials. I can’t say it was relaxing, but I feel ready to get back to my life which is a good way to feel after being without many responsibilities for two weeks.

It always feels good to see my house as I pull up in the car from being away and feel that tug in my heart that says that I am meant to be here. It felt good waking up in my bed to a sun shining  morning  in a house surrounded by fully budded trees rich with spring foliage.  I could see those trees and the vibrant green out of every window in our house. It felt good unpacking, sorting and opening my mail, and catching up with correspondence and emails.

Strangely, I do feel rejuvenated and ready for the work at hand that remains- preparing for vacation Bible school, the end of the school year busyness, finalizing summer plans, and the like. Something missing a few weeks ago has been found. Something I had not even realized was missing until now- a love of home.

So often when I used to return home after a long, tiring day of teaching I would see my home come into view and feel a happy sigh escape my lips. I could feel the day slip away in an almost  amnesia-like moment where the negatives disappeared and just didn’t really matter anymore. After all  it wasn’t real life, just work.

Staying home it all becomes more serious. The glaring imperfections in the surroundings shout failure and everything becomes a measurement. Those bits of leftover crackers still on the floor from several meals past. The pile of items that need to find their home. The never ending battle with toys strewn about the floor. The enrichment activity strategically implemented that somehow bombs anyway. In all those things the simple joy of being home is trampled over and the gift is forgotten. The joy stolen.

For me it was renewed when my husband sweetly and quietly reminded me of why he had chosen to stay home the day after picking up his girls from the airport by saying, “Today is supposed to be a family day.” So I put the pile of mail I was sorting to the side. I savored the indoor quiet for a moment due to a baby napping, enough to last me a while, and instead chose to go outside and jump with my three year old and her daddy on the new trampoline that he had assembled while we were gone. A welcome home/ welcome spring present meant to help our spirited daughter tire herself out. “Jump me Mommy! Jump me Daddy!” rang out in the air like music along with giggles all around.

Later we enjoyed a cook out on the deck, the first of the season. I looked around at our trees blowing in the light breeze sending golden seed pods of all kinds raining down and I thanked God for bringing us here to this place both literally and figuratively. I thanked him for the gift of home. Both a place and a feeling. I thanked him for trips that allow us to fully love and enjoy those we visit but also allow us to fully love and enjoy those with whom we live. What a gift.