Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Sunday, July 08, 2012
Have a life.
Lovely little beach right in town this morning again, the good life. Garage sales and thrift stores yesterday, observing that small Mom-and-Pop businesses here seem to open late and close early, ie, people have a life - my kind of place.
Friday, July 06, 2012
Thursday, July 05, 2012
Fourth.
July 4, Hudson.Best Fourth of July party ever, thanks in part to Lamount's game host's skills extraodinaire.
Wednesday, July 04, 2012
Tuesday, July 03, 2012
Snug.
July 3, Merrimac.
The routines are flowing back and it feels so comforting, simple, the way things should be, what size the pictures to be to be put on the blog, what writing format the daily blog entries, something that had become automatic but with which I was struggling when I first came back, unexpectedly lost in my own world, my fingers uncertain and confused, struggling to regain what they didn't understand they lost, and suddenly it all came back, tasks flowing blindly through the keyboard, simple as one, two, three, I'm riding my bike again and it feels so good.
We are all children craving routines, safe, snug and tight in our world, what we know, what we know to expect, our well-worn blankets against the infringing chaos of what we also know is the world beyond that fine bubble.
The routines are flowing back and it feels so comforting, simple, the way things should be, what size the pictures to be to be put on the blog, what writing format the daily blog entries, something that had become automatic but with which I was struggling when I first came back, unexpectedly lost in my own world, my fingers uncertain and confused, struggling to regain what they didn't understand they lost, and suddenly it all came back, tasks flowing blindly through the keyboard, simple as one, two, three, I'm riding my bike again and it feels so good.
We are all children craving routines, safe, snug and tight in our world, what we know, what we know to expect, our well-worn blankets against the infringing chaos of what we also know is the world beyond that fine bubble.
Monday, July 02, 2012
Sunday, July 01, 2012
Keep looking.
July 1, Pembroke.
When I was studying the job interview guide provided by the Rhode Island Teaching Fellows it said that you should never say "I don't know" in response to a question and it was all I could do not to scream in return: I don't know!
I don't know how good a teacher I would be, I don't really know why I chose to become one, I certainly don't know that I'll be here tomorrow, I don't know where my children come from and what they will grow up to be, I don't know more than a grain of sand of what I'd like to know about this earth, this world, its poets and its painters and its musicians and its thinkers and wise men, I don't know more than a speck of dust about where we come from and what happens after we die, and if "we" means anything more than I writing now, I don't know many answers but I have endless questions, I don't know how it is possible to say "I know," I certainly don't know the first thing about where I'll be next year, I don't know that I want all the answers, and that the relentless search is not the ultimate goal and all the "I don't' knows" its mandatory feed, the relentless questioning the means and the end and the only thing that counts and I don't know that this is true for anyone but myself.
At this point in the saga I'll just keep looking.
When I was studying the job interview guide provided by the Rhode Island Teaching Fellows it said that you should never say "I don't know" in response to a question and it was all I could do not to scream in return: I don't know!
I don't know how good a teacher I would be, I don't really know why I chose to become one, I certainly don't know that I'll be here tomorrow, I don't know where my children come from and what they will grow up to be, I don't know more than a grain of sand of what I'd like to know about this earth, this world, its poets and its painters and its musicians and its thinkers and wise men, I don't know more than a speck of dust about where we come from and what happens after we die, and if "we" means anything more than I writing now, I don't know many answers but I have endless questions, I don't know how it is possible to say "I know," I certainly don't know the first thing about where I'll be next year, I don't know that I want all the answers, and that the relentless search is not the ultimate goal and all the "I don't' knows" its mandatory feed, the relentless questioning the means and the end and the only thing that counts and I don't know that this is true for anyone but myself.
At this point in the saga I'll just keep looking.
In the end, for now.
July 1, Pembroke.
In the end I couldn't do it.
Today would be my last day at the circus, and the threshold to my new life as a teacher. I would be driving to Providence to settle in with my first roommate for the summer, I would be unpacking, I would be studying even more than I have already to be ready for Day One of pre-service training with the Rhode Island Teaching Fellows, I would be relocating to a strange place far away from my family, facing an incredibly intensive five-week training, while looking for a job and getting ready to be the best teacher in that school, I would be looking for a way to get my own kids in a reasonably good school this late in the process, I would be waiting to see where I would work to see where I would live, I would be worrying about getting down to the details, how I would make it to school every morning and get my kids to their school at the same time, I would be feeling lonely, really, deeply lonely, I would find myself face to face with those daunting challenges, but in the end I couldn't do it.
It has been a few hard days of soul-searching, wrenching decisions and wondering, but I am grateful for them for they have taught me a lot about myself.
In the end I could not do it, and I feel terrible about it but also reconciled. I asked to be deferred to next year's cohort of fellows, and am waiting for their answer. One year to break away from this my life and build a new one, one piece at a time, something I can deal with, and feel serene about, a new place to call home before heading into the whirlwind of this teaching program.
I am reminded of that old airplane safety routine that nobody listens to anymore, please place the oxygen mask on your face before attempting to help others with it, a drawing maybe or a video of a woman calmly helping a child seating next to her after putting her mask on.
One year, taking care of myself and my children, one year, the lady in the picture, calmly, and then I can see about saving the world one high school class at a time.
In the end I couldn't do it.
Today would be my last day at the circus, and the threshold to my new life as a teacher. I would be driving to Providence to settle in with my first roommate for the summer, I would be unpacking, I would be studying even more than I have already to be ready for Day One of pre-service training with the Rhode Island Teaching Fellows, I would be relocating to a strange place far away from my family, facing an incredibly intensive five-week training, while looking for a job and getting ready to be the best teacher in that school, I would be looking for a way to get my own kids in a reasonably good school this late in the process, I would be waiting to see where I would work to see where I would live, I would be worrying about getting down to the details, how I would make it to school every morning and get my kids to their school at the same time, I would be feeling lonely, really, deeply lonely, I would find myself face to face with those daunting challenges, but in the end I couldn't do it.
It has been a few hard days of soul-searching, wrenching decisions and wondering, but I am grateful for them for they have taught me a lot about myself.
In the end I could not do it, and I feel terrible about it but also reconciled. I asked to be deferred to next year's cohort of fellows, and am waiting for their answer. One year to break away from this my life and build a new one, one piece at a time, something I can deal with, and feel serene about, a new place to call home before heading into the whirlwind of this teaching program.
I am reminded of that old airplane safety routine that nobody listens to anymore, please place the oxygen mask on your face before attempting to help others with it, a drawing maybe or a video of a woman calmly helping a child seating next to her after putting her mask on.
One year, taking care of myself and my children, one year, the lady in the picture, calmly, and then I can see about saving the world one high school class at a time.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Day off - not.
June 27, Berkley.
Today was a day off and it went right on cue for Fridman: we had to stay on the lot in Mendon, without light, till mid-afternoon so that he could help Castro with one of the trucks that needed work. The day was gone by the time we made it here to empty trailers and I found that no space had been saved for me to park.
I had hoped to spend a nice day off with my family before we're separated again - an unfathomable memory lapse since I know the circus.
Today was a day off and it went right on cue for Fridman: we had to stay on the lot in Mendon, without light, till mid-afternoon so that he could help Castro with one of the trucks that needed work. The day was gone by the time we made it here to empty trailers and I found that no space had been saved for me to park.
I had hoped to spend a nice day off with my family before we're separated again - an unfathomable memory lapse since I know the circus.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Monday, June 25, 2012
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