So far, this school year has been...well, just different. Of course, my mascot has changed, the map is shifted, and my classroom is a much farther walk to the restroom. It's been a rough year. I've made it through some days with only enough energy at the last bell to plop my head on the desk and cry. I've screamed. I've ranted. I've struggled. I've even considered giving up. (Surely, there has to be an easier job. I've had one!)
The one thing I had not considered was just being myself. If you *really* know me, then you know that I'm one of the most intense people you will ever meet. I talk with my hands. I talk really fast. My conversations jump around and about. So do my ideas. Get me going on something, and I will wear you out with my thoughts and research and even an anecdote or two. This is usually way too much for most people. (Even my own father has been ended discussions with me!)
For much of my life, I have held back that personality. You could say anything to me, and I would absorb it. It was so much simpler to cram myself into an emotional prison. Or maybe it was just more comfortable. For me. And for those around me. But I lost myself in there. Then I spent two years in therapy to find myself again only to change jobs and lock myself away again.
Yesterday, I walked into class and let the real me flow into the room. I laughed at stupid seventh grade jokes (because I really think they're funny). I waved my hands and made unintelligble noises when interrupted. I smiled. I hugged. I made a huge deal over anyone who did something well. I corrected. I fluidly let the sarcasm flow from my mouth. I was me. And not only could those kids *handle* it, they loved it.
Driving home earlier this week, I looked over at the sunset and could see in my mind a woman embracing the sun. I want to paint this image because it is the way I feel right now. John Steinbeck (more on that later) and my 61 seventh graders have filled me with a new life this week. It's a place where I can think and feel and be a part of experiencing life.
The one thing I had not considered was just being myself. If you *really* know me, then you know that I'm one of the most intense people you will ever meet. I talk with my hands. I talk really fast. My conversations jump around and about. So do my ideas. Get me going on something, and I will wear you out with my thoughts and research and even an anecdote or two. This is usually way too much for most people. (Even my own father has been ended discussions with me!)
For much of my life, I have held back that personality. You could say anything to me, and I would absorb it. It was so much simpler to cram myself into an emotional prison. Or maybe it was just more comfortable. For me. And for those around me. But I lost myself in there. Then I spent two years in therapy to find myself again only to change jobs and lock myself away again.
Yesterday, I walked into class and let the real me flow into the room. I laughed at stupid seventh grade jokes (because I really think they're funny). I waved my hands and made unintelligble noises when interrupted. I smiled. I hugged. I made a huge deal over anyone who did something well. I corrected. I fluidly let the sarcasm flow from my mouth. I was me. And not only could those kids *handle* it, they loved it.
Driving home earlier this week, I looked over at the sunset and could see in my mind a woman embracing the sun. I want to paint this image because it is the way I feel right now. John Steinbeck (more on that later) and my 61 seventh graders have filled me with a new life this week. It's a place where I can think and feel and be a part of experiencing life.
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