Adjustment.

Wed. August 24, 2011
Ever read that children's book "Alexander and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day"?

I had one of those today. I recently left my my old job and started at a new daycare. Same position-preschool teacher (3 year olds). And it has been such a hard transition for me. It's so uncomfortable and challenging. The old day care was private and laid back and extra ordinary if you ask me. Way different than your typical day care center. It was at a country club on a golf course. My room was lined with windows. We watched the seasons change together through the year. Nothing is ever "perfect", but I was extremely happy and comfortable. The kids and I connected tremendously and there was a high level of respect between us. I felt like I could reach them. And they totally reached me in so many ways.

And I left. Why? Well, I was offered better pay. And when your single with students loans chained to your ankle, it seems like the best thing to do. I also felt like it was an open door. Like by doing it I was setting something into motion. I would be starting a momentum and things would start moving. Hopefully into a school district. I felt like by stepping out of the comfort zone that is what would happen.

It's only been a week and a half. So I hate to judge my decision off of such a short time period. I'm just having a REALLY hard time. It's difficult not to compare where I was to where I am. I feel like I don't like it. Like it doesn't fit. And I can't tell if it's the adjustment or if I just don't belong here. How do you know? I feel like I'm bailing on the kids if I leave. Like I'm giving up...throwing in the towel. Kinda even like I failed. At a more challenging position.

It's got me feeling a little depressed.

Could it be my perspective?
Negativity?

I guess time will tell.

Today I felt like I was in a zoo (why do people say that? the animals are behind cages and tamed most of the time. But you get what I mean when I say that.). I myself felt like a monster. The kids, totally out of control. And me trying to get control in whatever way I could. STRESSFUL.

To top it all off, after work I went and babysat the twins. Two boys that I am absolutely IN LOVE with. Truly. I adore them. They are so affectionate and they feed my heart. They love all over me. It felt great. I miss it. (They are in my old class).

I feel like the old place filled me up. I was giving to the kids and they were giving to me to. They really helped me. It was like some kind of therapy. The place I am at now is different. I have to pick up the pieces. These kids are in a state of such lack in so many ways.

My last week at the old daycare I was aware that the new place was going to be different. And I felt like the new place was going to be a new learning experience for me. To make me a better teacher. To expose me to a different group of children. To learn how to love and care for all children.

I guess I forget that in the midst of everything. Maybe the truth is, this is going to require more of me. More of my mind, more of my heart, more work, more time, more of my self. To reach them. Maybe the old place prepared me for this. By filling me up. Maybe there's season that you give and you are given to, but there are also season where you just give.

I can't sit here and say this is going to be easy. But I want it. I don't want to give up or turn away. I want to embrace this. And give. By the end, receiving. Receiving all the lessons. I won't walk away empty handed. Ill have a greater ability and more to give to the next group....

In the end, maybe it is all about perspective. Imagine if that's the case with everything.
The state of our mind.

On that note, this is to be continued!

At the end of Alexander's Terrible, Horrible, no good, very bad day, his mom says "some days are like that. Even in Australia." (throughout the book, he kept saying he wanted to move to Australia) It's simple and comforting.

 From stressed to hopeful with a hint of reality that this is going to be difficult. But good.
-MLB

Velocity.

Velocity
By: Billy Collins
In the club car that morning I had my notebook
open on my lap and my pen uncapped,
looking every inch the writer
right down to the little writer’s frown on my face,
but there was nothing to write
about except life and death
and the low warning sound of the train whistle.
I did not want to write about the scenery
that was flashing past, cows spread over a pasture,
hay rolled up meticulously —
things you see once and will never see again.
But I kept my pen moving by drawing
over and over again
the face of a motorcyclist in profile —
for no reason I can think of —
a biker with sunglasses and a weak chin,
leaning forward, helmetless,
his long thin hair trailing behind him in the wind.
I also drew many lines to indicate speed,
to show the air becoming visible
as it broke over the biker’s face
the way it was breaking over the face
of the locomotive that was pulling me
toward Omaha and whatever lay beyond Omaha
for me and all the other stops to make
before the time would arrive to stop for good.
We must always look at things
from the point of view of eternity,
the college theologians used to insist,
from which, I imagine, we would all
appear to have speed lines trailing behind us
as we rush along the road of the world,
as we rush down the long tunnel of time —
the biker, of course, drunk on the wind,
but also the man reading by a fire,
speed lines coming off his shoulders and his book,
and the woman standing on a beach
studying the curve of horizon,
even the child asleep on a summer night,
speed lines flying from the posters of her bed,
from the white tips of the pillowcases,
and from the edges of her perfectly motionless body.

Afterward by MLB:
I used to love this poem!
We are moving even when we are not.
Time is so precious. It doesn't ever stop for us.
It keeps pushing us forward.
There's so many empty lines coming off of people.
When I say this, I mean, unfortunate time spent.
Time that goes by without any good in it.
Depressing days.
Times hugged up by sorrow.
Abused.
Tortured.
Unloved.
Neglected.
Can't get up.
Wrecked with anxiety.
Confusion.
Anger.
Hate.
Strife.
Meaningless.
Division.
I don't mean to be negative with this.
Just truthful.
And I'm bringing it with an angle of inspiration.
Because it can touch somewhere deep in us.
Where we won't want to settle.
But we will move toward and fight for...
being the change we wish to see in the world.
Where lines of light come off of us moving in time.
Where we turn toward The Source of Light to receive.
So that we can give it others.
And it becomes our dedication.
To fight for this.
To turn to The Light.
To give.
Because time isn't stopping.
And anything can happen tomorrow....
So let us bend toward Love.
And surrender to Him.
And the very movement, in time, or out, whispering "hope".