Reflection and Looking Forward

So. It's been, well, six months or so since I posted. I had such good intentions of joining Slice of Life back in March, but it just didn't happen. But at least it got me to set up a blog again. It's been such a long time since I've written reflectively. Perhaps it's time to try again. It is the eve of our departure for a three-week trip to California during which I should have some time for reflection. It is the last hurrah before heading back to school at the end of August. This will be the third year in a row we've made this trip and the second that we'll be spending in Ojai, the place I consider to be the most beautiful, magical on earth. I should have at least a fair amount of time to myself for relaxation and reflection while we are there. Most mothers of small children (mine are 5 and 2) do not enjoy such a luxury, but I am so blessed to have a nanny who travels with us. Her presence gives me the opportunity to actually have some time to myself and to enjoy the peace that quiet reflection can bring. I should be packing. The laundry is almost done in the dryer. It's 1 AM and I know I should be in bed. But here I sit writing this post. Perhaps I can keep up with blogging, perhaps not. As I begin to contemplate how I want to spend these last three weeks of my summer, though, I think that written reflection is important. I hope that I can follow through and use this blog as a venue to do so.

Jean-ology

So here's a slice of my life from today. Not a monumental one, but I'll try to build up to something more meaningful.

Just two inches taller. That's all I ask. Five foot six inches instead of five foot four.

Tonight I tried to hem a pair of jeans I bought last weekend in Toronto. I say "tried" because I actually did not accomplish my sartorial goal for the evening. In my haste to complete the task, I ended up sewing the cuff on the outside of the jeans instead of the inside. So now, to add seam-ripping to sewing, I need to redo the whole thing. Serves me right. 

Despite my relative handiness with a treadle and thread, I resent the fact that I have to hem my jeans. I am just the wrong height. 5'4" means that I am right on the cusp of the "petite" sizes but definitely (as the DKNY pair I bought at 75% off last weekend proves) not a "regular." One of the reasons I even bought the jeans, in fact, was that the pair I had brought on the trip (my husband and I had a wonderful long weekend vacation in Canada for my 40th birthday) were a "petite" size and, therefore, too short. I found myself hyper-conscious of the fact that the tops of my shoes were visible as I walked and irrationally envied slightly taller women I saw whose jeans I thought were just the right length.

So I snatched the DKNY pair off the rack, paid for them, and actually went so far as to change in the mall bathroom. Here I was, a woman on the cusp of her fourth decade, acting like some kind of neurotic teenager. As I balanced myself precariously in the thankfully private Canadian stall, I wondered to myself what it might say about me that I was being so vain.

In retrospect, I don't regret the purchase. Even with the ridiculous Canadian sales tax, the jeans were only $22. A steal. Although I did end up traipsing through the cold, wet sidewalks of Toronto with the cuff of my jeans lapping over the heel of my shoe, once I get them to the right length they might just become that elusive pair of perfect jeans that everyone else besides me seems to have.

Since I haven't grown an inch since 6th grade, I doubt I'm likely to start shooting up any time soon. So I guess I'll just have to keep my sewing machine in working order and hope for the best.

T minus two ...

OK, so it's midnight and I'm exhausted and I'm contemplating the thought of having to write a blog post. I really don't want this to become something I dread -- or worse yet, feel guilty about because I can't accomplish what I set out to do. But still, I am going to make the attempt. So here I go.

A slice of my life for today: I am forever doomed to suffer the curse of being "too nice." I hate the word "nice." In fact, I started smoking as a senior in high school just to escape the "nice" label. That, combined with dating an edgy skater-type helped to diminish but not entirely dispel it. (Note to impressionable youth: SMOKING IS BAD. Don't do it.)

Nice came back to bite me in the butt yet again today. I seem to have lost the authority in one of my classes. As fond as I am of these rambunctious students, it became all too clear to me today that at the moment it is they -- not I -- who are running the show. Now granted, we are reading The Great Gatsby and they are rebelling against the very idea of English class, but that should not give them license to behave the way they did in class today.

So ... now I have to regain the upper hand. This is an uncomfortable but not altogether unfamiliar process. I've been through this before. As my principal always says, though, it's so much easier to start out as a hard-ass and then taper off than to have to move in the other direction to regain control. That is unfortunately where I am right now.

Not to make it all about power, because it is not. But as the adult and the "lead learner" (to use an educational catch phrase) I need to ensure that students' behavior does not impede their learning or anyone else's in the class. I think I came to the somewhat uncomfortable realization today that my loss of control had allowed this to happen.

So, after a day off tomorrow for literacy training, I will return to the classroom on Wednesday morning and gain back my authority. The secret will be doing it so subtly that they don't even notice. I'll let you all know how thiat goes.

Slice of Life: Challenge Accepted

Last week I attended a workshop by Stacy Shubitz, one of the Two Writing Teachers, who suggested joining the Slice of Life March Challenge. After giving it some thought and initially worrying that it would be just one more thing to add to my already over-crowded list of things to accomplish before going to sleep, I have decided to accept.

I already know how satisfying blogging can be. Back before I had children (biological or classroom) I came to rely on my two (now-defunct) blogs as a venue to record my musings and frustrations. Narcissism aside, blogging gave me an outlet to reflect on my life in a thoughtful way. Somehow the medium of the Internet audience made it seem less gratuitous (and perhaps more meaningful) than just writing it down in a book.

My previous life as a blogger captured a slice of my life as an early 30-something. One of my blogs, The Knitting Life (January 2005-January 2006), I used primarily to post about new crafting projects and their progress. This was in the pre-Ravelry days, before those wonderful people made social networking for knitters so easy.

My second blog, The Trying Life (January-November 2006) dealt with more personal issues and traced the increasingly audible ticking of my biological clock and the frustrations of delayed motherhood.

Today, just a day after my 40th birthday, I am in a very different place than I was six years ago. Although I do miss the seemingly limitless amounts of free time I had back then, I truly do believe that I am happer and more fulfilled now. At the risk of descending into cliche, I have so much to be thankful for:  a wonderful, supportive husband, two beautiful, healthy children, and a career that challenges and fulfills me. I am surrounded with family, friends, and colleagues who value and support me.

I am slowly clawing back small aspects of my pre-childbearing life that enhance the daily grind of my life. I have returned to my position playing the oboe for The Central Pennsylvania Symphony. I actually am working on both a knitting project and reading a book for pleasure at the same time. And as the prospect of a glorious summer vacation peeks over the frosty horizon, I know that I can even contemplate starting to run again.

So as the first day of the challenge approaches, I look forward with eager anticipation to getting myself back into the habit of writing reflectively about my life. As a writing teacher, I know and appreciate more than ever the importance of using writing as a means of making sense of our world. Thank you, Stacy, for giving me the inspiration to do it!