A funny thing happened on the way through my day today. 

I woke up this morning and rolled over, not ready to face the day. I felt the impending wallow of the day before still lingering around my edges. I didn't have a purpose this day. I was supposed to go out with a friend I hadn't seen in a while, but I had the feeling that he wouldn't follow through and I had five hours to fill before that possibility even arrived.  

I was in that funk. “Nothing is right. I'm all alone. When will things turn in my direction?” I recognized it as truth exasperated by PMS. The truth is relative. The PMS makes it feel definite. “I will never live my dream. I don't even know what my dream is.” 

So I went for a drive. To the store, through the neighborhood, and back home again. At the store I tasted some amazing local cheese accented with basil. So good I thought, but I can't afford it. Cheese is a luxury.

By the time I got home. My friend had canceled. See. 

I texted a girl friend with my woes of the world. Who reminded me that it was god’s timing. And I did not text back that I was sick of waiting for that bastard. That I am pissed and forgotten. I wallowed and hand stitched a corn filled heating pad feeling like I was wasting my time, day, life. Graciously she pointed out that a heating pad was productive (and reluctantly I thought, it is good to have the time for something so simple).

And through my wallow, my day continued. I intentionally set out to fill my time with plan B. I went and played music with some friends. And together we prepared for a benefit concert to honor and raise money for my dear friend and his son. And in which I would sing and play. 

That evening, I went to a poetry gathering that turned out to be so much more. I met a community of people building a community for people. I was inspired by their stories and shared some of mine. I was proud of the young people who spoke their truth through poetry and found three organizations in the area that are doing great work, for the young, the under-privileged, and for poetry. I gave my card to three different people who were excited about what I may be able to offer. I sparked new ideas with an old friend and found a meeting place for an upcoming meeting that was beginning to feel impossible to find. 

On my way out I was offered a chunk of cheese to take with me. The woman asked me which one I wanted, and I pointed to the one in the middle. Good choice she said, that is the one with basil. See?

I walked home, heart swelling, mind reeling, and enter my simple, humble basement dwelling and find a text from that same girlfriend. It brings me a laugh. My day of highs and lows is bookmarked by a friend’s generosity and compassion, and I realize what I have always known. I am blessed. Even in those moments I cannot tell or don’t remember, I am blessed. 

Melancholy, surprisingly melancholy.

School started today, and I am not there.

Yesterday I was literally giddy – literally giggling and dancing. I was so looking forward to not waking up early, not trudging my way to school, not sitting in endless repetitive meetings about how much money we don’t have and how much more we are expected to do.

But this morning, I woke I was filled with sadness. I am not part of the team – my team. I am not soon to see a sea of eager (and not so eager) faces of young people. I am not a teacher setting up my classroom for students.

For fourteen years I have woken up on the first day of school and called myself a teacher. Today, I just woke up. And thus starts my yearlong sabbatical to figure out who I am and what I have to offer this world. Where I want to be and who might want what I have to offer.

What I won’t miss:

Bureaucracy, the box that closes in and hold authentic education hostage in the name of standardized testing, an unsupportive administration that does not respect or value what I have to offer my school, countless unpaid hours of paper grading, beating myself up for not accomplishing the impossible, working in a largely thankless profession, sacrificing my life, energy, and opportunity.

What I will miss:

The kids, each and every one that would come through the door and bring themselves to the table. I will miss sharing the passion of language arts, turning non-writers into writers, young adults into poets, non-readers into a community of readers, those moments when the light bulb goes off and a child is changed forever, working with a team of students and watching them change the world, their communities, themselves, and each other, working as a team to create, present, and be part of this thing called education with both my colleagues and students, bringing students an opportunity and watching them rise to the challenge, laughing in the classroom, believing, transforming and celebrating, school breaks and collaboration.

What I am looking forward to:

Re-defining myself where necessary and finding myself where needed (outside a classroom), discovering my worth and connecting with others who would benefit from what I have to offer, learning, growing, discovering the things I have never had time for, and taking the time for those things, living slowly and peacefully, wandering around the globe, volunteering, visiting, and  healing.

I recently started running again. I've always liked running because it is free, self powered, you can do it anywhere, and while running, you become one with your surroundings. You are no longer a tourist or a vacationer, you just simply are. Nonchalantly, a runner makes her way through the streets, largely unnoticed. This means the travel is covert. The world is yours to see, hear, feel and experience, and no one else really even notices. That creates a raw connection that I really love.

Of course starting back after some time off, it is also hard, slow work. My first few times out were grueling and contained more walking then running, but I am OK with that. I was out. I was moving. Then I remembered the mantra. I am strong, powerful, and fit. I am strong, powerful, and fit. Insert the words that you need to hear, and repeat them often. 

As I began to repeat my mantra, my running became less of a burden, and I did indeed become more powerful and fit. My run finished in a run and I threw my fist into the air, feeling strong, powerful, and fit. What, I wondered, if we chose mantras daily. I am beautiful, smart, and valued. I am beautiful, smart, and valued. I am beautiful, smart, and valued. We need to begin being kinder to ourselves and providing those pep talks as needed - often. Society is happy to pull us down with negative images we can not live up to and commercialism that reminds us we are not good enough, but what if we reminded ourselves that we are. Because, WE ARE!