Somewhere and somehow I allowed myself to be sidetracked, to be molded into a new and different identity that never quite fit properly. And now that I see that and realize what happened, I am scrambling to recapture myself. I am afraid that there is too much distance now for that to happen.
•prepare for pregnancy
(vitamins, exercise, cut back on alcohol)
(ideally in april)
•further the cause for Waldorf education in my city
•graduate grad school
•keep building my business
•work on illustrating
•stop caring so much about what others might be thinking
•get more in touch with my religion
•clean up our property
•plant a killer garden
•do some canning, freezing, and putting away
I’m writing a paper about the importance of unstructured free time in the school day, and it’s caused me to reflect on my previous place of employment. I was the (only) recess monitor every day, and it pretty much killed me. If the temperature was 32 or below, I was not allowed to take the students outside to the playground. Instead, I had to take them into the gym where they could play a structured, group game (the admin thought the kids “couldn’t handle” free time) with me serving as the referee. My students were only given 15 minutes of recess a day, but when lining up and travel are factored in, it was closer to 10. Loss of recess was the main form of punishment at the school, and students lost recess for any number of crimes—talking in class, not doing homework, being off task, being disruptive, crying in class (yes, this happened more than once)…the school had a student body of only 68 kids (K-4), and on any given day, 10% might sit out of recess.
So after being cooped up in a gym where there was limited socialization and zero opportunity for unstructured play, the students were funneled into the lunchroom. And several days each week, they ate silently in the dark as punishment for being “too loud” in the cafeteria.
Dear God, it’s like I worked at the orphanage in Oliver or something.
Norman Rockwell’s painting of Jo writing in the attic.
"Fellowship" is not a verb.
“We are the girls with anxiety disorders, filled appointment books, five-year plans. We take ourselves very, very seriously. We are the peacemakers, the do-gooders, the givers, the savers. We are on time, overly prepared, well read, and witty, intellectually curious, always moving…We pride ourselves on getting as little sleep as possible and thrive on self-deprivation. We drink coffee, a lot of it. We are on birth control, Prozac, and multivitamins…We are relentless, judgmental with ourselves, and forgiving to others. We are the daughters of the feminists who said “You can be anything” and we heard “You have to be everything.”
All I want is to knit, have babies, and eat the amazingly yummy food my husband cooks. Is that such a big thing?