I’ve spent life looking up. Forward. Ahead. I’ve always had a plan for my next stop, most of the time without realizing it. The next degree, the next job, the next paint color. The next move, the next blog, the next dream.
And yet, at the same time, I roll with it. I kind of like rolling with it. It’s always been a viable option for me. And if I’m being honest, it’s my favorite of the options. I’ve learned to trust it; somewhat. It’s hard to trust it while you’re hammering away, before the gem in the middle pops out. But once you uncover enough hidden gems, you start trusting that the gems are there. And when you close your eyes and the gems get even brighter, that’s when you really know you’re onto something.
Those of you who know me know that my life, much like all of your lives, has been a series of ups and downs. And through it all, I dabble in a little planning and a little rolling and eventually, gems roll out.
This afternoon I was dead on my feet tired. Disclaimer: everyone has their own definition for “dead on my feet tired,” okay? There’s no need to debate it. Suffice it to say that by about 4:30pm I was so ridiculously spent at work that I was what I can only refer to as- completely loopy. And the thing is, I was in a classroom of two year olds. Loopy Lisa, in a room filled with two year olds, one of which who would not stop talking about Santa. At first, I freaked. This is only my second day working here. I can’t show them my crazy yet, you have to save that.
But it had been a long day of playing and dancing and singing and reading and labeling and scaffolding and picking things up and changing diapers and wiping noses and wiping tables and feeding people and cleaning people and putting coats on people and putting shoes on people and patting people on the back so they would fall asleep.
And in the midst of my loopiness, I looked over at my new teammates and noticed something I hadn’t noticed before. Every teacher in the classroom, the loopy, the spiffy, the smiley, the tired, the crafty, the sleepy, the wiley, the wired, was standing close together with loopiness looming, we stood side by side and we teachers started laughing. And we laughed and we joked about runny noses running and about kids’ hair collapsing and diapers, well, smelling. And the more that I thought about this teacher connection, the more that I thought it was just perfection. Maybe teaching, I thought, doesn’t come from a store. Maybe teaching, perhaps is a little bit more.
So tomorrow we will teach and we’ll read and we’ll listen, we’ll laugh and we’ll sigh and wipe faces that glisten. And all of this is something I never expected to do, all this is something entirely new. For I’ve planned and I’ve leapt my entire life through and so now I shall ride and see where this leads, there are things I must learn and sows I must seed.