I’m writing this at the playground of the Methodist church
across the street from our house. Parker is sliding down the slides, climbing
stairs, and poking her head through portholes. Unlike most Wednesday
afternoons, I didn’t have any meetings today. Suzy and P picked me up from work
and we had some pretty darn good Middle Eastern food at a place in Saginaw
called Taboon. Now, I still have an hour
until my evening class, and so we are here at the playground. It feels
luxurious to have an hour to just sit. That kind of extra time just doesn’t
come around a lot right now.
It’s almost completely still here in the neighborhood. A Schwan’s truck went by about five minutes
ago, but otherwise, there’s no traffic at all. Parker has the place to herself.
The only sound is the breeze rattling through the ash tree behind me. Leaves
are beginning to yellow and turn here and there. Michigan is gearing up for its
big autumn show. The soy bean and corn fields that surround my school have all
turned yellow and brassy. It’s officially fall, and there aren’t too many other
places I can think of that are better to be at this time than Michigan.
Things are going okay. Suzy and I were talking over lunch
about how each of us in the back of our heads kind of thought this move was
going to be the silver bullet for all of our problems, that the glittering
magic of a bigger town/school/ward/etc. was somehow going to cure all our ills.
Obviously, that’s silly. Moving here has remedied some problems but created
others. There are always problems and worries wherever you go. It’s never
really a question of if, but more when, where, and what kind of problems you’ll
have.
One thing that’s weird for me is starting over at work. At
IVCC, I’d been there long enough and was established enough that I felt
confident in almost any situation. There wasn’t a question or a concern a
student or colleague could fire at me that I didn’t feel reasonably well-equipped to handle. Now
though, even though I’ve been a teacher of one kind of another for thirteen
years, I haven’t been a teacher here,
you know? Being untenured again, relearning a new culture and a new
bureaucracy, and dealing with a different set of students have got me feeling
slightly shaky. I’m not as confident in the classroom today as I was two months
ago. And that’s a weird feeling that I don’t enjoy very much.
There’s nothing to do but teach through it and let time and
experience accrue. Some classes are more fun to teach than others, so I’ll just
let myself be nourished by them so I can handle the others. Just like any other
job, right? Use the good moments to help you endure the not-so-good.
It’s been about twenty minutes since I started writing.
Parker has filled up several pieces of playground equipment with pea gravel and
is now brandishing a spear-like stick. I fear for my life at this moment. Time
to shut down, walk home, and prep for my Wednesday night 5 -9 (yeah, you read
that right – 4 hours of one class all in one shot – it’s like trying to inhale
a Buick through a straw). Wish me luck.
2 comments:
"Buick thru a straw" ... Mark Brown you slay me !
I took the Japanese sister I visit teach on a sq. mile drive in our new car to which she observed : "Oh wow ! Looka dat tree ... No looka dat one ... Oh dis is a beautiful drive. Oh wow !"
When we got back to her apt she said : "Oh wow, Seesta Day, nice car too !"
Even the new car can't beat MI in the autumn !
I have to give credit where it is due. The Buick line came from singer, writer, actor, scary guy Henry Rollins. I've loved it for years and pull it out periodically when I want to seem clever.
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