I always tell kids that they can't say "I can't." They can do it, it just might be harder to complete. I truly believe in that concept and try to live by it. This week, thought, I have found myself saying, and thinking, those words more often than I should.
My mentor, friend, and our special ed team leader left last year. It seems as if the workload has fallen on me. We have several new teachers, and one teacher on her way out the door to retirement, and I'm somewhere in the middle. At my seventh year, I've been here just long enough to sort of know what I am doing as a leader, but still not completely feel comfortable in that skin, which is where I am right now. Plus, as a close friend with my former mentor, I helped, joined in, and had somewhat of an understanding of what happened as "team leader." I just don't know if I can do it.
I love what I do. Probably more than most. I love that I get to see kids each day. I love that I can change lives. And I love that I can advocate for children in a way that a general ed teacher cannot. But, these last few weeks, the things that people have been asking me to do are far from any of that; and the words that keep coming up in my head are "I can't." I am handed paperwork, and documentation, and asked to run meetings that I don't yet know how to do. I have always wanted to be an administrator, because my belief is that you can't complain about how things are run if you don't have any desire to change it yourself. But, as people start throwing things at me, things that I stare at and am fearful that I'm going to botch up, I have dissolved into tears more than once while sitting on the blacktop of our school. Maybe I'm not cut out to lead. Or maybe this is how you learn.
I realize that this task is up to me, and despite my perfectionist attitude, I'm trying to understand that I'm going to make mistakes as I figure it out. As I walked out of our school last night at 8pm (a 13 hour workday), I had added to my to do list by 12 items; but I'd also crossed off 8. I have always been a list maker, but never a prioritizer. I'm not sure where this school year is going to take me, but I have a feeling after it, I am going to know where I'm headed next year and beyond. But, one thing is for sure, I'm going to try to stop saying "I can't."
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Big City View, Small Town Charm
This weekend I took my best friend to my hometown of Grosse Ile, which is an island just south of Detroit. She'd never been there, but all through college, I spoke of "the island" and all it "had to offer." Ok, not really.
It was a very interesting place to grow up, with a little bit of small town charm, a little bit of snobbishness, and a lot of love and everyone knows every one's business. Two bridges on either end get you on the island (although one is currently shut down for repairs), there are three golf courses (two are country clubs), and boating is quite prevalent, as well. There are no sidewalks, but you can walk or bike most places by travelling down the bike path that runs smack down the middle of the island from end to end, although it wasn't there until I was in high school. It was a wonderful spot for us to run on, it it is flat as a pancake, and we found ourselves churning out 9:28 miles, even on our "long" runs. But most of all, it was an island. And there isn't much there. You have to go off the island to do absolutely anything. It wasn't, though, until she came that I really realized how bad it was.
As we were driving from the airport, she was looking around, and her comments all centered around the fact that there is nothing around, as we made our way toward GI. I had never thought of it that way. There were farms, and houses, and a few strip malls, but when I was in high school, there was always something to do. It was nothing like growing up in a big city, but we always found something. It was quiet in the house as we sat, no hum of cars from every which way, and even getting home in the evening, if you sat and listened for traffic, you couldn't hear any. And as we went out to do things, and had to travel up to 30 mins to go to a movie, or sat at a local bar where there were a total of 4 people, I started looking at it through a different set of eyes than I ever had.
I have lived in a "big city" for the better part of the last 7 years. I love living in the city. There is always something to do, it is constantly changing. And I loved where I grew up. It had everything I needed at the time. I played golf, I went to school, I went to parties, and hung out with my friends. It was what I knew. But, as I started to look at it through Tiffany's eyes, there was nothing there. It was very dead. It was still all the wonderful things it was when I grew up, but it really had nothing there to do.
I love that my friend came to my home so she could see where I grew up; it shaped me and made me who I am. She said that on more than one occasion. I will always respect the island and all it has to offer, but I will definitely view it differently now; through very different eyes.
It was a very interesting place to grow up, with a little bit of small town charm, a little bit of snobbishness, and a lot of love and everyone knows every one's business. Two bridges on either end get you on the island (although one is currently shut down for repairs), there are three golf courses (two are country clubs), and boating is quite prevalent, as well. There are no sidewalks, but you can walk or bike most places by travelling down the bike path that runs smack down the middle of the island from end to end, although it wasn't there until I was in high school. It was a wonderful spot for us to run on, it it is flat as a pancake, and we found ourselves churning out 9:28 miles, even on our "long" runs. But most of all, it was an island. And there isn't much there. You have to go off the island to do absolutely anything. It wasn't, though, until she came that I really realized how bad it was.
As we were driving from the airport, she was looking around, and her comments all centered around the fact that there is nothing around, as we made our way toward GI. I had never thought of it that way. There were farms, and houses, and a few strip malls, but when I was in high school, there was always something to do. It was nothing like growing up in a big city, but we always found something. It was quiet in the house as we sat, no hum of cars from every which way, and even getting home in the evening, if you sat and listened for traffic, you couldn't hear any. And as we went out to do things, and had to travel up to 30 mins to go to a movie, or sat at a local bar where there were a total of 4 people, I started looking at it through a different set of eyes than I ever had.
I have lived in a "big city" for the better part of the last 7 years. I love living in the city. There is always something to do, it is constantly changing. And I loved where I grew up. It had everything I needed at the time. I played golf, I went to school, I went to parties, and hung out with my friends. It was what I knew. But, as I started to look at it through Tiffany's eyes, there was nothing there. It was very dead. It was still all the wonderful things it was when I grew up, but it really had nothing there to do.
I love that my friend came to my home so she could see where I grew up; it shaped me and made me who I am. She said that on more than one occasion. I will always respect the island and all it has to offer, but I will definitely view it differently now; through very different eyes.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Brother, Brother C'mon Back
My little brother and I fought unmercilessly when we were kids. And I was horrible to him. I beat him up, I convinced him he was a test tube baby, and would pick at him and pick at him until he snapped. When I went to college, he was going to be a sophomore in high school, and he didn't think I was cool, and I only thought he was annoying.
Somewhere around the time he went to college, we started talking. Sometimes we'd talk several times a week. We talked more, and emailed more, than we had for most of our lives. It was as if we had finally gotten on a common level. Since that time, our conversations have become slightly less frequent, as we only get to talk once or twice a week, but we try to keep to that schedule, and email in between.
This summer, he's been in the DC area as a summer associate between his second and third years of law school. It has made me more happy than I even realized, having him here. Despite the fact that we only got together a handful of times, it was the knowledge that he was here, and that we had the option to make plans, that made me happy. I liked knowing he was in my zip code. We got to do very relaxed things like go to baseball games, be picky about restaurants, and sit around and play cards at night; unlike when he is doing a fly by visit and I have just a few hours to visit with him.
So, tonight, when we took a jaunt into the city for our second meal during DC's Restaurant Week at Charlie Palmer Steak House, I found myself getting a little sad. We had a really great meal, a lovely chat, and he was sweet enough to pick up the tab for his old sis, but I couldn't help thinking in the back of my mind that I wasn't going to see him for a few months, that this was it for us. It makes me sad. I miss him already. I miss just knowing that family is close by.
For the longest time, I wondered if we would ever get along, now I can't imagine my life without our weekly chats. My brother has his own life, and I have mine. In a few years, he will be back here permanently with a job offer in hand and I can't wait, because it is a beautiful thing to find how wonderful family can be.
Somewhere around the time he went to college, we started talking. Sometimes we'd talk several times a week. We talked more, and emailed more, than we had for most of our lives. It was as if we had finally gotten on a common level. Since that time, our conversations have become slightly less frequent, as we only get to talk once or twice a week, but we try to keep to that schedule, and email in between.
This summer, he's been in the DC area as a summer associate between his second and third years of law school. It has made me more happy than I even realized, having him here. Despite the fact that we only got together a handful of times, it was the knowledge that he was here, and that we had the option to make plans, that made me happy. I liked knowing he was in my zip code. We got to do very relaxed things like go to baseball games, be picky about restaurants, and sit around and play cards at night; unlike when he is doing a fly by visit and I have just a few hours to visit with him.
So, tonight, when we took a jaunt into the city for our second meal during DC's Restaurant Week at Charlie Palmer Steak House, I found myself getting a little sad. We had a really great meal, a lovely chat, and he was sweet enough to pick up the tab for his old sis, but I couldn't help thinking in the back of my mind that I wasn't going to see him for a few months, that this was it for us. It makes me sad. I miss him already. I miss just knowing that family is close by.
For the longest time, I wondered if we would ever get along, now I can't imagine my life without our weekly chats. My brother has his own life, and I have mine. In a few years, he will be back here permanently with a job offer in hand and I can't wait, because it is a beautiful thing to find how wonderful family can be.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Sing, Sing, Sing...
My grandmother can sing. In fact, she has a beautiful voice. I didn't get the genes from that side of the family. When I was a freshman in high school, I joined chorus. I knew the teacher, I had grown up with him, as my mom was a teacher at the high school. Two days into the class, he pulled me aside after class, and encouraged me to find another class. I was devastated at the time, but I got it; I can't sing. But damn if I don't love to. And sing I do.
I sing in the shower; in my head when I workout; with my Ipod on while I'm cleaning the house; when I'm drying my hair; and I sing in the car. That is my favorite, and when I am the most boisterous. And it is also when I get caught.
I will often find myself singing quite loudly in the car, and then look over and realize that there are people looking at me. The only thing I can do is smile sheepishly and stop...for the time being. I know I'm bad, but it makes me happy. In many social situations, even around people I know and love, I don't feel very confident. I am not outspoken, I keep my opinions to myself, and I let people walk all over me. I know that it is happening, but I'm not confident enough to stop it. But, when I am in the car, when that music is playing, all of a sudden I don't notice anyone else. All my confidence that I keep hidden other times washes over me, and I enjoy myself for the entire length of the song.
So, riders with me, and drivers in Northern Virginia beware: If you are going to keep your windows open, you're going to hear me. Be prepared for some bad singing, and some happy emotions coming from my car. But, maybe, just maybe, instead of laughing at me, you can join in. I hope so.
I sing in the shower; in my head when I workout; with my Ipod on while I'm cleaning the house; when I'm drying my hair; and I sing in the car. That is my favorite, and when I am the most boisterous. And it is also when I get caught.
I will often find myself singing quite loudly in the car, and then look over and realize that there are people looking at me. The only thing I can do is smile sheepishly and stop...for the time being. I know I'm bad, but it makes me happy. In many social situations, even around people I know and love, I don't feel very confident. I am not outspoken, I keep my opinions to myself, and I let people walk all over me. I know that it is happening, but I'm not confident enough to stop it. But, when I am in the car, when that music is playing, all of a sudden I don't notice anyone else. All my confidence that I keep hidden other times washes over me, and I enjoy myself for the entire length of the song.
So, riders with me, and drivers in Northern Virginia beware: If you are going to keep your windows open, you're going to hear me. Be prepared for some bad singing, and some happy emotions coming from my car. But, maybe, just maybe, instead of laughing at me, you can join in. I hope so.
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