What To Do, What To Do.

Rough day here.  How about you?


I spent a few hours in my building in the art room helping my best art teacher pal get her loom up and running.  It was fraught with difficulties and challenges and we quit after a whole 2 1/2 hours (which I find admirable) because we were both getting cranky.  I don't think we were cranky due to Miss Mae the loom.  My favorite art teacher pal is on the South Beach diet and pissed off her pants don't fit and I had neglected to eat anything yet. Now how did that happen?


Let me set the stage.  The emotional stage.  Get inside my head and heart so you can help me out.  Cuz I need someone to help me out.  And don't tarry.


You all know I am a new grandmother, but my grandson lives way too far away.  So I keep getting photos, which I love, but many of them have the OTHER grandmother in them as she snuggles that sweet baby neck.  So that has me in a sad mood.  


You all know that I have not had an easy go of not being in my room this year.  It has laid down all sorts of complicated and conflicting emotions.  It has not helped any that my principal has not handled things as an experienced principal would have.  It has not helped that RT doesn't even want me in the building or that my EAs are scared to engage in much discussion with me for fear of RT.  It has not helped that I realized in an ugly way that becoming an administrator in the program I chose and in this time was not going to happen.


Add to that Movie Man has turned impossibly ugly in that 12 year old kind of way and that Superman has determined that since he has Autism he can scream when he is angry.  And I swear he is going out of his way to be angry.


I entered the fall filled with so many delusional fantasies about what my leave of absence would be like it is embarrassing.  I should have known better.  I have moved enough in my life to know that whatever voids made due to our absences are filled in quickly. Humans adapt and they continue on being busy with whatever they are busy with and you may be fondly remembered, but you are not part of their immediate reality, so you begin to disappear.  And no matter how many times I go through this, it still hurts and feels rejecting, and personal.  


What I learned today is that I melt at the sight of a sweet first grade face earnestly listening to the teacher.  A naughty little quirky kid still tickles me.  I understand best practice teaching methods and strategies.  I felt at home in that art classroom.  I love schools. The smells, the rhythms, the sounds and the sights.  I really love schools.


I also learned that I don't think I can go back to my old room, my old kids, my old school. I can't quite say why.  I don't know.  Right now it is all visceral, in the gut. 


But if I don't, who am I and what am I meant to do?  How do I even begin to figure it out?


 I know I am not done with education and public schools. I know I need to look outside of my identity  box, but I don't know which end is up.