Skip to main content

walking into the dark

I finally ended up cleaning my classroom and moving all the furniture to prepare for the annual carpet cleaning. I kept putting it off partly because those bookcases are heavy! But it’s also another confirmation that this school year is actually over. The classroom was pretty much frozen in time from mid-March when quarantine started. Paper snowflakes still on the windows, our last math lesson still on the board, so many unread books piled up on my desk and cobwebs everywhere marking the passage of time; the absence of activity.

Well, I got some help moving the heavy bookcases and I vacuumed all the cobwebs. I boxed up the students' things to send home and I’m finishing their progress reports. It’s time to let go. It’s okay to let go. It’s hard to let go and it’s okay that it’s hard but somehow it seems a bit harder when it’s so uncertain what will come next. I know things will be different, things will change, but I don't know how.

It reminds me of another time I was approaching this same kind of unknown transition when I was about to move back to the US after living and teaching in Costa Rica for 2 years. The little town where I lived and the families that lived there had become like home. It seemed impossible to leave and yet I knew it was time to leave. I just had no idea what was going to come next. Right before I left I had a very memorable walk home that taught me an important lesson. 

I had just left from visiting one of the families in my town and was walking home under the dim light of a new moon on a dark mountainside road. There was this one turn in the road, a particularly dark corner with no houses or streetlights. This tall corner of the mountain loomed frighteningly dark, no curves or forms visible in the blackness as I approached. I generally consider myself pretty fear less but something about this corner gave me chills. But then as I approached, my footsteps echoing, my eyes started to adjust. What at first seemed an impenetrable blackness was suddenly only a very dark grey. Suddenly it seems there was some light that I hadn’t noticed before and then before I knew it I was on the other side. 

And that's what these moments of unknown transition feel like. As you're approaching it seems impossibly hard and dark. "How will I find my way through? What's waiting for me in that darkness?" we wonder. But we approach and enter, step by step. Our eyes adjust and we're able to see light that we couldn't see from a distance. And then before we know it, we're on the other side. 



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

grace

Sometimes when I tell people that I'm a teacher they say something like, "I don't know how you do it!" and I laugh and reply "I don't know either!" But the truth is, I do know: I'm not the one doing it. So who or what is? Well, you can call it what you want - grace, magic, energy, intuition, Divine Mother or God - but sooner or later you start to realize there is something else at work that you can't quite see or fully understand.  I had a sweet, magical moment one afternoon that reminded me that Divine Mother knows just what each of us needs in each moment. I had gone down to the Village center to use the stronger internet connection to upload something for my class. While I was there waiting for things to upload I sat in this beautiful communal space all by myself feeling a bit sad and out of sorts. Not even a few moments later a little boy from the community came walking by and went to check on a nest of birds they'd been watching in a bus...
Post a Comment
Read more

skylights

Swami Kriyananda once shared a superconscious dream he had where he talked with Yogananda about a difficult situation saying "The doors are closed." Yogananda's response: "Don't overlook the possibility of a skylight" and then he added, "A sense of adventure is needed." We are definitely looking for skylights these days when it comes to planning for the upcoming school year. The number of considerations and possibilities seem endless. Now this can seem frustrating and overwhelming but it can also seem incredibly expansive.  Anything is could happen.  There's at least two ways you could say that: with a sense of dread or a sense of excitement. Will we trudge through, wishing it could be otherwise, focused on all that is lacking? Or will we embrace the opportunity before us to completely reimagine our school year and the learning experience we provide? So far it seems, we are choosing to have a sense of adventure. The ideas that are coming up see...
Post a Comment
Read more

difficult conversations

The energy it takes to avoid a difficult conversation is much more uncomfortable than the energy it takes to have the conversation. Many times it's the anticipation is many times worse than the actual conversation. Our minds play out all sorts of worst case scenarios.  This is in the case where we know the conversation is coming. But what about when we suddenly find ourselves in the middle of, or even listening in on, a conversation that suddenly becomes uncomfortable? Perhaps someone has said or done something disagreeable, confusing or unexpected. These things happen regularly in the classroom - kids really do say and do the "darndest things." They say and do mean things to each other without thinking. But these moments are also just a part of life. The question is, how do we react or respond?  Most of us fight, freeze or flee. It's how our brains are hardwired to respond to stressful situations. The problem is, this response gets in the way of learning and growth. ...
Post a Comment
Read more