I never believed in signs. People waiting for some sort of clue from the universe, waiting to tell them where to go or what to do. My Mom, on the other hand, has unshakeable faith. She tries to pass it on, but sometimes I don't believe because, lets face it, I don't often get my way. But she continues to pray for me, and because she lives far away, I imagine that I can wrap myself up in her devotion, like a warm blanket on a cold day. Without looking for them, I have tripped on a few sign bearers. Like the man who joked with me in Winn Dixie 14 years ago. I was worried about my pregnancy, but he told me I would have a spring lamb. My son was born in April, perfectly healthy. Or the woman at the post office, who mailed off one of my grants. She asked what it was for because I seemed nervous. When I told her what it was, she smiled and said "Don't worry, you'll get this." I did. At my doctor's office, I hyperventilated a little when the nurse asked how I was doing--I told her how anxious I was about my job search. She laughed and told me I shouldn't fret. Later that day I got the e-mail asking if I was ready to go back to work. And finally, the woman at Ross, where I fell in love with a $20 computer bag great for my laptop. The checkout lady saw my hesitation, so I told her I would return the bag if my interview to reapply wasn't successful. Wouldn't you know, she said "Don't worry, baby, you'll get this job--you already have a perfect bag." I may have. Official confirmation is slow in coming, and everyone is wrapped up on the euphoria of the school grades, which came out today. Our school, I am proud to say, made an "A", which is great news. But my fate rests in the hands of bureaucrats, and I am feeling a little frustrated. You know, maybe I'm just no good at reading the signs, and God will have to drop an anvil on my head to get my attention. Maybe it's true--If you look around, there are signs everywhere, and you can get proof when you expect it the least and needed it the most.
Before you begin reading, I must warn you--this is not a post about a metaphorical garden, where young minds must grow and prosper, blah, blah, blah...This is an actual, honest to goodness garden, a very cool place at my school, tucked away between two buildings. Six years ago, when I started working there, it was nothing but a dusty patch of grass. Trying to find a way out of the confining four walls of my room during good weather, I began searching for a good place to take my class out to read. You know, take them out into the sunshine when it's not too hot and read aloud or let them read "in the wild". Watch stuff grow.
Anyway, I started thinking about building a real garden, and then I had to give myself a slap and remember every time I tried to grow anything, I'd kill it. That is not to say I didn't like it, it was just not my thing. I've seen beautiful gardens in the States and in Europe, but never thought I could actually grow one. Once I started thinking about it, though, I couldn't stop. My vice-principal, a very wise woman, marched me into her office one day and said, very matter-of-fact, "I am putting together a grant for this outdoor garden/classroom idea you got. And you're writing it." Ok, long story short, we got the grant and got started.
My principal immediately began drawing up plans for landscaping and a pond. A small gazebo was ordered. The district promptly imposed restrictions, but we worked through them. People donated stuff, like plants and mulch. The three parent volunteers who showed up helped my husband and I build flowerbeds, bless their souls. My vice-principal (again, a very enterprising woman) and I planned to get compost for the plants. The only problem was, we needed a truck and a shovel. She promptly volunteer her truck and shovel, and I went home and fetched mine. It was an extremely hot and humid day. See, this is how you really know if you can trust your administrator. Nothing like knowing that a person who is capable of throwing shovefuls of dirt side by side with you, in the blistering heat and humidity is also capable of going to bat for you and run things at school at school with a firm hand. We shoveled compost by the truckload and it finally began to look like what it was meant to be--a wonderful place for kids to learn about nature in a real setting, to sit down and read in beautiful weather, to hang out and think deep thoughts. The kids were awesome too, planting and rearranging. Working side by side, I was immensely proud of them and their hard work. We had a dedication ceremony for our retiring principal, and released butterflies. It was one of the best moments of my life.
It was not easy--I've done everything from scooping out big globs of nasty green algae out of the pond to pulling weeds taller than me. There were ant bites all over my arms and hands (stupid forgot her bug repellent) I tried to ignore whatever lurked in the dark corners, thinking it is supposed to be an ecosystem and that includes snakes. I even walked in front of my entire faculty covered in dirt and sweat, after one of the weed-pulling sessions because I could only get out through the media center and they were having a meeting! I was so tired I didn't even think to care. It should have been one of the most embarrassing moments.
I've been gone from the garden for a year, and it has been going back to its untamed state. Plumbago is running wild, most of the mulch is missing, and my spring perennials have gone. I think the koi fish may be dead, or maybe playing dead. While I am waiting for final approval of my appointment as a fourth grade teacher, my principal has given me permission to go back and work in the garden, which no one seems to use as a classroom anymore. And writing this post reminded me of why it was so important to me. Maybe it is a metaphor, after all. So, as Rudyard Kipling (from the Jungle Book) said "Then seek your job with thankfulness and work 'till further orders, If it's only netting strawberries or killing slugs on borders. And when your back starts aching and your hands begin to harden, You will find yourself a partner in the glory of the garden." I'll be picking up my gloves and shovel, because my Serenity Garden is calling me back.
I got to see my new classroom yesterday. It is like staring at the proverbial blank canvas, and wondering what pictures we will paint in this neutral, empty space. I know other teachers may prefer less materials, books, posters, and crooked pictures of student work on the wall, but I am the total opposite. I love teaching from all sides with charts and posters; my books cover the walls, along with newspaper clippings, sketches, and photos of mad science experiments. We even have four computers which I am sure they will try to take away when they realized their mistake. I hope they don't. The room also has windows--that's a first. I'll be able to look out into the fields and the trees. I'll try to remind myself not to jump (just kidding!)
I also feel a packrat phase coming up--did I mention I love to shop for teaching supplies? Target, AIMS, Kagan, and Lakeshore are playing my song. It is almost a religious experience to examine, ponder, and agonize over every choice, thinking what it will be used for, where you'll store it, and how much they'll enjoy it in class. Used bookstores and libraries are my favorite--the smell and feel of books is essential. Stickers and post-its are a must. And pencils--gotta have pencils everywhere, and fresh sheets of crispy, lined paper. Bright fabric for bulletin boards. Stuffed animals. Comfy chair. Coffee mugs. A ton of coffee...
Blessings come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. My friend Lenny, who is a custodian in our school, gave me a huge hug when he saw me and showed me to the room. He had just finished cleaning it, and even arranged the desks the way I liked them, in groups. He showed me, smiling, some of the old supplies that were left behind, which he squirreled away in drawers for me. He and my husband laughed as they commiserated on all the projects I intend to try this year, or the amount of money I will be spending. Times are hard, he said, but I am so glad you're back. We used to have great talks while he cleaned up and I picked up after my crazy day. He gave great advice. Lenny is a big fan of Ben Franklin--"Well done is better than well said." I think he's right.
My principal, also a friend, called everyone we know. I tried calling my friends--former principals, my reading coach, my other teacher friends--it turns out they all knew, and they were screaming on the phone, congratulating me. I was surprised--I did not think they would give it a second thought beyond "how nice for you". And I am working with a power group of teachers. Blessings, I tell you. I am surrounded by good will and best wishes, and I didn't even know it.
So I stood in that empty room, thinking--now what? We'll see, I guess. For now, clearly, I'll be blessed with a ton of work.
According to Wikipedia, The Cynics (Greek: Κυνικοί, Latin: Cynici) were an influential group of philosophers from the ancient school of Cynicism. Their philosophy was that the purpose of life was to live a life of Virtue in agreement with Nature. This meant rejecting all conventional desires for wealth, power, health, and fame, and by living a life free from all possessions. As reasoning creatures, people could gain happiness by rigorous training and by living in way which was natural for humans. They believed that the world belonged equally to everyone, and that suffering was caused by false judgments of what was valuable and by the worthless customs and conventions which surrounded society. So, the question is:
Are all of us as teachers philosophical cynics? Because this description fits most of us to a T...
Blog posts, journals, and chat rooms are brimming with teachers who are anxious for answers, tips, anything they can hang on to in order to be proactive and land just one opportunity. It is one of those situations you have to live through to understand, and as grateful I am it is almost over, I am not sorry I went through it myself. As I prepare to go back to work, I feel deeply connected to the hundreds of people I have read about, talked to, and e-mailed about the lack of teaching jobs. They have had the rigorous training, given up the worldly possessions, and are ready to banish the worthless customs and conventions. However, they are still struggling just to get a chance.
Just when I start losing faith in human nature (daily) I am reminded of so many who are supportive and generous with their feedback and advice, setting an example to us by connecting to each other through invisible lifelines. You can vent, pray, and rant regularly without upsetting the balance of the universe, knowing that someone out there gets it. As teachers, we have most certainly rejected all desire for power, wealth and fame--heck, we just want to get back in the classroom and make the worthless customs go away book by book, math problem by math problem.
So I dedicate this post to all closet cynics who also happen to be teachers, and to those who have spent endless hours encouraging, talking, and saving their hope. May we all live to teach another day.