June 14, Lakehurst.
There was an accident on Route 9 this morning, a state trooper directed us to a u-turn and we had to find our way to the Parkway, and there scramble to get the exact change at the toll: nothing ever goes as planned in the circus and you constantly have to think on your feet.
I was thinking about this later on, and what I would take from my experience living at the circus that could help me make it at my new job, or even get that new job in the first place. Thinking on your feet, responding well to challenges, not to mention interacting with a wide variety of people from all walks of life came to mind, but the most valuable skill no doubt the overall flexibility that circus life requires as a basic survival skill, making do no matter what the odds, no water maybe, or no electricity, oceans of mud one day, too-tight lot the other, treacherous routes always, because the show goes on, the road is long and change is all you can be certain of.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Ahead.
June 13, West Creek.
So the end is near.
All of this, my work, my life, for all those exhilarating years.
By the end of this month I'll be entering what is called pre-service training in Providence with the Rhode Island Teaching Fellows, a national program that recruits highly qualified individuals and trains them to be teachers who help close the achievement gap by excelling in high-need schools in America.
I am excited, and utterly scared about the prospect.
I am awed by the expectations and the challenges ahead, not just in this my new job, but in this new life, my life in the circus abruptly over before it started again, this life of constant challenges and endless flow but they are challenges and wild ebbs I know, this is the circus, this is home. Ahead lies an ocean of unknowns visited by storms I've never weathered, and the world I've left behind.
But the kids will go to a good school, the prospect of changing lives through education is as inspiring as it daunting, and we'll be back to wake up and smell the sawdust as often as we can.
So the end is near.
All of this, my work, my life, for all those exhilarating years.
By the end of this month I'll be entering what is called pre-service training in Providence with the Rhode Island Teaching Fellows, a national program that recruits highly qualified individuals and trains them to be teachers who help close the achievement gap by excelling in high-need schools in America.
I am excited, and utterly scared about the prospect.
I am awed by the expectations and the challenges ahead, not just in this my new job, but in this new life, my life in the circus abruptly over before it started again, this life of constant challenges and endless flow but they are challenges and wild ebbs I know, this is the circus, this is home. Ahead lies an ocean of unknowns visited by storms I've never weathered, and the world I've left behind.
But the kids will go to a good school, the prospect of changing lives through education is as inspiring as it daunting, and we'll be back to wake up and smell the sawdust as often as we can.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Going fishing.
June 10, Carneys Point.
The day at Mary Ellen's with the kids, the gods and going fishing for the first time for Dylan and Nicolas, just across the street to a small pond but they love it all the same, it's hot suddenly but we're spending a perfect summer afternoon.
The day at Mary Ellen's with the kids, the gods and going fishing for the first time for Dylan and Nicolas, just across the street to a small pond but they love it all the same, it's hot suddenly but we're spending a perfect summer afternoon.
Insane.
June 8, New Freedom.
I'm off to Chester, Pennsylvania, to take two national teacher content knowledge exams, the last in a series of hoops I've had to jump through in rapid sequence since we flew back from France almost two weeks ago and had the surprise to see Fridman there to help us drive the motor all the way to Providence from the back woods of West Virginia to interview for the chance to secure a position as a Rhode Island Teaching Fellow, a selective, highly competitive federally-affiliated program to recruit professional to teach in high-need urban schools around the nation, jumping back into the car the second the interview event was over to drive right back to meet the circus in Hancock, the whole two weeks an insane non-stop race filled with everything from roadside hurdles to two-day cramming of a phone directory-size book, two weeks jumping in and out of the circus I've barely rejoined after five months time abroad and away from my life, my home.
I'm spending the night at my friend Mary Ellen's on Wilmington, a short drive to Chester, an eternity form the circus again.
It's good to be home, if only I were there long enough to see it.
I'm off to Chester, Pennsylvania, to take two national teacher content knowledge exams, the last in a series of hoops I've had to jump through in rapid sequence since we flew back from France almost two weeks ago and had the surprise to see Fridman there to help us drive the motor all the way to Providence from the back woods of West Virginia to interview for the chance to secure a position as a Rhode Island Teaching Fellow, a selective, highly competitive federally-affiliated program to recruit professional to teach in high-need urban schools around the nation, jumping back into the car the second the interview event was over to drive right back to meet the circus in Hancock, the whole two weeks an insane non-stop race filled with everything from roadside hurdles to two-day cramming of a phone directory-size book, two weeks jumping in and out of the circus I've barely rejoined after five months time abroad and away from my life, my home.
I'm spending the night at my friend Mary Ellen's on Wilmington, a short drive to Chester, an eternity form the circus again.
It's good to be home, if only I were there long enough to see it.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Thursday, May 17, 2012
May 17, Saint-Ismier.
Today is a holiday in France (another one of those Christianity-based holiday religiously honored as a day off in the most non-religious country in the world) and we drove to the Vercors mountains and to the town of Villard-de-Lans, where I spent most my childhood summers. It was the last stop for my brother Patrick, who died there another summer almost twenty years ago.
We hiked a short trail, had lunch at the café we always went to, walked the streets we always walked and where I remember a perfect childhood bliss, and everything looked exactly the same, the same shops, the same atmosphere, and not even a new building around to spoil the scenery, breathtaking, the town looks as pastoral and postcard-perfect as it did thirty years ago, and it was resplendent in the spring light.
Today is a holiday in France (another one of those Christianity-based holiday religiously honored as a day off in the most non-religious country in the world) and we drove to the Vercors mountains and to the town of Villard-de-Lans, where I spent most my childhood summers. It was the last stop for my brother Patrick, who died there another summer almost twenty years ago.
We hiked a short trail, had lunch at the café we always went to, walked the streets we always walked and where I remember a perfect childhood bliss, and everything looked exactly the same, the same shops, the same atmosphere, and not even a new building around to spoil the scenery, breathtaking, the town looks as pastoral and postcard-perfect as it did thirty years ago, and it was resplendent in the spring light.
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