Three years
ago our district Language Arts Coordinator, Janet Tilley, sat us down at a back
to school meeting to tell us she would be retiring at the end of the year. As she finished up the announcement she
shared, “All change involves loss.” I
wrote it down in a tiny notebook I was carrying around to get organized that
year, and I have repeatedly stumbled across it since that day. Each time I do I let it roll around my brain
again. When she said it, our district’s
secondary reorganization which would eliminate junior highs and move us to the
more standard configuration of 6th-8th
middle schools followed by 9th-12th
high schools was a distant reality. Now,
the official start is a mere 12 hours away.
Tomorrow I report to Oakland Middle School while over 25 of my respected
colleagues will sit together as Battle Spartans for their first official back
to school meeting, and I cannot get Janet’s words out of my mind.
I remember
being in a psychology class during my sophomore year in college and reading
that one of the wonderfully fascinating and frustrating things about being
human is you can hold two completely contradictory thoughts in your head at
once and vehemently agree with both of them.
I knew that there was a flipside to Janet’s words the first time I heard
them. If change involves loss, it must
also involve gain. And I am gaining so
much this year. I am insanely excited
about what lies ahead. We have amassed a
dedicated OMS staff full of people who genuinely care about kids. I am about to start my dream position. I am department chair, which means I get to
spend district money on books and cool pens while getting to be bossy in a
sanctioned fashion J. I am part of piloting the position of reading
specialist which means that in addition to working with young readers, I get to
serve as an instructional coach across all content areas in my building. Repeatedly throughout my graduate program I
have been asked what I want to do when I “grow up” and I always respond that I
want to find a way to work simultaneously with students and adults learners,
and this position creates the perfect opportunity for me to do so. I am finally teaching a methods course at MU
where I get to help future teachers discover how to best incorporate media
literacy and talking to learn in the classroom – two of my favorite topics. I was able to attend an OMS social tonight
and see that though many friends moved on, many stayed behind, and we shared
some hearty laughs today. Plus, I can
see the potential for so many new friendships and professionally fulfilling
relationships.
See… so
much to be so excited about… and yet as I drove home tonight, I could literally
feel the choke in my throat that meant tears were threatening to spill. It snuck up on me. I was sad enough to cry before I even
realized I was sad. I drove home
contemplating the truth in Janet’s words once again. There was such a beautiful honesty in her
willingness to lay the hard part of change out there for all of us to
consider. Being a teacher, you never get
over the pang of the loss of summer and the changes it brings that we felt so
prominently in childhood. This summer it
is hitting me especially hard as I am being inundated with change. I am sending three ever-growing girls off to new
schools/grades and day cares after long summer days together. I am folding up tiny summer dresses for the
last time. I am months away from giving
away all of our bottles. And even though
each age has brought more joy than the one before, a part of me will always
long for those chubby thighs and toothy grins of an infant turning toddler. If
all goes well, I am embarking on my last year as a PhD student. I am figuring out how to work in a building
without many of the people who gave me a reason to go to work each day. All around me friends are experiencing new
babies, new marriages, new jobs, new living situations and these big changes
remind me we are on a fast train that doesn’t like to make exceptions for those
of us who happen to drag our feet and pout whenever life threatens to become
unrecognizable.
These thoughts all ran through my
head as I drove home with Tessa after our OMS back to school party. She is four years old right now and is a
perfect example of someone who embraces the joy (and perceived pain J) of life. As we neared my neighborhood Right Here Right Now by Jesus Jones came
on the radio. She and I decided to turn
off the air and roll down all the windows while we sang as loud as we
could. She asked if I would take the
long way home so we could have a little more time together tonight. I drove all through the streets of Vanderveen
with little direction in mind. I lived
in the moment – “right here… right now.. there is no other place I’d rather be…”
All change does involve loss… and
gain… it is our job to find ways to roll down the windows during that change
and enjoy the here and now for all its scariness and glory. I hope I can live that this year. I hope I can grow while still respecting the
past. I hope I can watch my friends do
the same.
And to all my CPS friends who have
played a large role in my ability to say I am happier now that I ever have been
in my life – Happy first day tomorrow.
May we always find ways to enrich each other’s lives no matter where we
are.
