I’ve done a thing.
I’ve begun an ambitious, multi-year writing initiative in my district that I think could be really amazing, and I’ve got some colleagues who, quite thankfully, agree. I’ve got administrative support, I’ve got the time to plan and build, and I’m banking on the excitement of tapping into JOY.
Because if there’s anything that this world needs more of, it’s JOY.
I’ve been working with a group of teachers this summer. Quite honestly, I felt badly enough that I was going to take away four whole days’ worth of relaxation in an already shortened vacation for us. I also knew that in our time together, I’d be asking the world of them.
Naturally, I baked for them. What else could I do?
I needed to feed them well. That, and cross my fingers that the experiences we had together would be meaningful.
During this past session, all of us engaged in choice writing time, complete with chances to offer feedback to one another. Time ran out before we could debrief (that’ll be first on the agenda later this week), but it warmed my heart to have my colleagues get brave and give this a try.
Below is the piece I wrote during that time. Like most pieces of narrative, it took me in a different direction than the one I set out to go, but oh. That muse.
Sometimes it seems like there’s so much to carry, she thought, as she set her bag and shoes by the door. She shrugged her shoulders, rolled them through a full range of motion, heaved a sigh and made her way to the kitchen, to the dishes and the cleaning and the laundry and the —
No.
She promised herself she’d give herself a break, that she would allow herself time and space and the breath to —
But oh.
Those DISHES.
Just looking at them struck her. The thought landed with visceral force. She hated a dirty sink. Still…
She couldn’t.
She wouldn’t.
And all at once she felt it, the pushpull, the cleaving of her two selves: the one that had it all together and gleaming and shiny and spotless and tidy, the other a brazen, not-giving-a-flying-fig pursuer of joy and calm, with herself stuck solidly between the two.
She drew a deep breath as she pictured herself astride this gap, this widening chasm between ideal and real self. She felt each foot grounded in different territory. She felt a rumble, a shift..
…and grabbed the sponge.
Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for more updates on our writing journey, and if you have a few minutes, check out the Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers!
And, if you’re wondering…yes! Yes, I will be posting more about the writing journey I’m helping to lead. Stay tuned!