I started a new book the other day. One of the many I’m reading. Some people don’t understand how I can read more than one book at a time. I wouldn’t call it a skill; it’s more like an ADD. Plus being in a book club necessitates that I have at least one other book for my own personal pleasure – the two don’t necessarily coincide. Anyway, this book started with a quote, “A child needs your love most when he deserves it least.” This has stuck with me for nearly a week now. At first I read it and felt somewhat angry. It made me think of the kids I teach and how sometimes they are so incredibly infuriating that I don’t want to help them. Last week one of them flung a pencil at me that narrowly missed my face. I felt shaky all day, despite the fact that he was removed from my classroom. Then the quote made me sad for that very same reason. It made me feel like maybe I’m not giving them enough. It made me wonder if I take things in my own life for granted. Someone told me that I’m too sensitive to work this job. Maybe so. Anyhow, this book is about a parent, not a teacher. And although I’m not one yet, I grew up believing that parents loved unconditionally. I don’t know when that belief was shattered, but it’s extremely devastating to think so. I’m someone who loves openly and proudly. My family, friends, lovers. I wouldn’t say without condition, but I think that there are certain things you can overlook in the people you love. I’m sure there were times growing up when I was horrible to my parents but they still loved me. Because I was a part of them. And because of who I am as a person. I’ve always tried to look for the redeeming qualities in my students, as difficult as it can be sometimes. It’s always easier to forgive the ones you really love for their transgressions. I’m lucky, I have a lot of people I love, a lot of people who love me. My kids are lucky if their parents love them enough to send them to school with lunch for a field trip.
I’m on my February vacation right now. It’s easier to look at them with clear eyes through the distance. It’s easier to look at a lot of things.
I’ve spent much of this time thinking about my future. I’m no fortuneteller, but I know this job isn’t it. You all know this isn’t it. So much of it boils down to my own sensitivity. In every aspect of the job. My mother was a psychiatric social worker. I could never. So much for my hope and optimism. Someone once told me that the New York City Board of Education was declared a failure by the supreme court. One person can’t save the world. Or can they? I’ve applied to teaching jobs at other schools – private, high school, charter. I’m not sure that’s it either. I got an email about a food stylist. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’ll leave the country when my job and my lease end in June. Run away somewhere without cold weather. Teach English in the Greek islands or learn how to surf in Hawaii. The fantasies are endless. Scratch that, the possibilities are endless.
I had drinks with an old friend last night. We went to preschool together. God, can you believe how long ago that was. We were friends for most of our childhoods and we reconnected when both of us first moved to the city. Every time we meet up, we ask ourselves why we don’t do it more often. I love friends like that. I need to see her more regularly. It’s funny when you disconnect from someone, only to discover that you’re still so similar. Last night, after rounds of conversation and Guiness, we ran outside the bar, in just our sweatshirts in the freezing cold to see the lunar eclipse. Amazing that you can see these things even in the brightly lit skies of the city. There won’t be another one until 2010. I never would have remembered. I’m so glad she did.
