On balance and happiness

Work/life balance…  It’s something that most of us claim to strive for, but when I talk to friends and colleagues, we come to the consensus that actually achieving it is hard.  I believe, however, that balancing time spent on work and time spent on things that fill us up is critical to being truly happy.

I admit that over the past two years I failed at this.  I have fallen into the category of teacher-workaholic.  The following words could have been mine:  “Hi, I’m Lizzy, and I’m addicted to my job and have somewhere along the way fallen for the giant lie that my students’ reading levels and progress on paper are more important than the six year olds seated in front of me every day.  (Or my sanity, for that matter.)"

I can only speak from the teaching profession when I say that so many of us are like this.  In fact, in my experience, the only teachers I see leaving when the school day is over are the ones who have children at home.  The rest of us stay, looking for more ways to differentiate, filing endless piles of assessments, taping student work to the wall after it’s fallen for the 123^rd time, and calling parents when they are available to chat about their kids.  If you don’t have children, and you leave right after school every day, I confess that I have probably judged you.  This is not something I am proud of, but it is true.

It has often felt to me that working parents are excused… allowed to leave faculty meetings early, told “don’t worry about it,” when it comes to events in the evenings or on weekends, not emailed about volunteering their time in the morning before school starts.  In fact, I just attended a co-teaching workshop where a teacher partnership (who were fabulous and a wonder to behold) declared, “We have kids, so we do not have the luxury of staying after school for hours.”  Um, it has never felt like a luxury to me. 

Please do not think I am frowning upon, or speaking against, working mamas.  On the contrary, working moms and dads, I bow to you.  I worship you and I want to know your secrets.  How do you get your kids out of bed and dressed in the morning, in addition to yourself?  How are you able to focus on 22 students’ allergies, hopes, dreams, strengths, and challenges, in addition to the little ones you have at home?  I am lucky to know many working parents who do all of these (seemingly) effortlessly, with a smile on their face and with their hair in place, which is something I will never understand.  Working mamas, you are heroes, and I get that this sometimes means you will need to leave early or be unable to come to evening activities.

The only problem I have with excusing parents more often than non-parents is… how does this fare for teachers who don’t want kids?  Are they expected to stay late, sign up for extra committees, and show up at every event for the rest of their lives?

OR- more relevant to my situation- How am I going to GET the husband and kids if I am always either at school or working on things for school?

With that in mind, I knew I had to come up with a New School Year’s resolution.   I saw that spending almost all of my time and money on school had led me to crankiness (crappiness, not happiness!).  As much as I LOVE kids and feel extreme passion for teaching and learning, I see how I started to feel toward my job. 

I think, if happiness is a goal, we need to work toward it the way we work on our PIP’s/ PDP’s (or the dreaded SGO’s).  It will not just happen to us.  We need to identify the things that make us happy (for me, dancing, family/friends time, and quiet time with God) and set aside time to do those things.  Otherwise, we will continue to stay at school until 7pm, and then bring our heavy teacher bags home with us.  (I have already put dance classes on my calendar through October, so I can get out of school at a decent time!)

There will always be more we can do at school.  But we only live once (as cliché as it sounds) and I want to live happy, whether or not I am a mother yet.  Someday my prince will come.  And when he does, I want to be able to say, “Hi, I’m Lizzy.  I’m blessed to spend a lot of my time working with six year olds.  Here’s what else I love to do…”

Beautiful too

I want to preface this post by saying that I can only speak from my journey.  This is my truth, and the fact that each one of us can have truths that are different, and still respect each other, is what makes life incredible, in my opinion...

On my dating journey I have come to understand that there are several qualities, values, or non-negotiables that each of us look for in a significant other.  In addition to these things, each one of us is looking for a certain dynamic within the relationship.  I remember one friend from college saying to me, “I need someone who is going to put me in my place, take some control, and tell me that we can’t always have it my way.  I don’t want someone who is going to let me make all of the decisions, even if I want to, because I know how I get.”

I remember thinking to myself, that is so not what I want!  (Later, I would realize that my friend and I have different personality types and seek different kinds of friendships and relationships, which is both beautiful and okay.)

Here’s the truth: I am introverted.  I am quiet with people I don’t know yet.  I prefer to be the nurturer, the giver, but, in personal relationships, I usually want someone else to take the reins.  (Just ask my sister.  I’m blessed to say she does that for me!)  I prefer to have a handful of really intimate friends that I see on a frequent basis, and if I am truly honest, one-on-one or in small groups.  I like hanging out with the same girls every weekend, I live for dinners with my family, and I love all of these people (family, friends, or a boyfriend) to come over, stay up late talking, and have multiple cups of coffee in the morning in our pajamas.  I understand that to many, including former boyfriends, this may seem needy or clingy.  What I also understand now is that it is, unapologetically, who I am.

After my college relationship ended, I spent years asking myself what I did wrong.  This was my first relationship, and I was hoping it would last forever.  As I have said before, I have wanted the husband and the babies pretty much since I was old enough to say those words.  If it were up to me, I would have them now, but it’s not.  Thank God.

I beat myself up over not being strong enough as a partner, not bossy enough within the relationship, not choosing a person who fit me well.  I made lists of things I would do differently in my next relationship, most of which revolved around me being more outgoing and independent, and acquiring more control.  I told myself that something was wrong with me before and that the next time around I would fix it—I would be more assertive, I would speak up more.

In the meantime, having not found someone serious, I asked myself and God over and over, “Why has this still not happened?”  (I realize how desperate that sounds… just keepin it real!)

During this time, I have also lived by myself.  I have traveled by myself.  I have made friends with fabulous women in all stages of life.  I have moved away; I have moved back, both for jobs, without consulting anyone other than myself.  I have tried out new churches and gyms without anyone by my side.  I have learned that there may not be a bond stronger than that of single girlfriends who each live alone.  I have hosted friends in my own apartment.

Life changes this summer have caused me to look inward, and I have come to the following conclusion, almost as though I heard it being spoken to me by God:  “There is nothing wrong with you.  You are quiet.  You crave intimacy and hate personal space.  You love to take care of other people.  This is who you are, and even though you are not loud, outgoing, or extroverted, you are beautiful too.”

And THAT, my friends, is (one of) the reason(s) why I’m still single!  I know that if I got married right after college, I would not be the independent woman I am today, and I would not understand and accept who I am, separate from a partner.  Many women are able to accomplish these things within a relationship.  However, for someone like me, introverted and a lover of relationships that are almost too close, it took being alone to really achieve them.

And so it turns out that God was not withholding a blessing from me; He was and is giving me exactly what I need, so that I can choose wisely, and know the kind of dynamic that I want within my relationship.  So that I can say, “I need someone who is going to have a major role in making decisions for our team, but gently encourage me to take control too.  I need someone who is going to be light and laid-back with me, so that I feel safe saying how I feel.  I want someone who is going to get that I want to spend almost every Saturday night with him, and have him around my family a lot, and vice versa.  I want someone who is going to one day understand that I want to stay home with our kids, love that about me, and not make me feel lesser for it.”  

It’s perfect for each of us to be just the way we are.  Here’s to finding partners who can support us in that and not giving up.

Showing Up

“I love sunsets, but no matter how badly I want to see one, I can’t make one happen. The best I can do is show up at the right time, set my chair down, and watch God work.”- Glennon Doyle Melton

I have been told, over and over again, by many well-meaning loved ones and strangers, that love will find me when I stop looking, and that when it does, my job will be to recognize it and show up.  I don’t know about love, but I do know that in the middle of July a principal from a school in Monmouth County called me.  With a first grade inclusion position.  Let me write that again: FIRST GRADE.  INCLUSION.  AKA my dream job. (First grade, co-teaching, close proximity to my family, and the beach are all loves of mine.)  I was not looking for a different job this summer, had not put out resumes or applications, but knew without hesitation that this was God guiding my feet and I could NOT turn it down.  So I said yes, signed a lease for an apartment that is super close to school and twenty minutes from my parents, and here I am, ready to switch schools in just a few weeks.

Showing up and saying yes, in this case, was the easy part.  I feel so very blessed by the time I spent at my first school—it will always be the first place I developed my identity as a teacher and I have worked loved harder there than I have anywhere in my life.  However, when offered my dream job out of nowhere, I said yes.  Easy.  The fear, anxiety, and nervousness that have followed… all of that has been a little less easy.

I am leaving A LOT behind.  I had a very encouraging community of colleagues and I made a few friends from school whom I now consider family.  Amazing, strong, confident, hilarious women who have driven me to Trenton, hosted me during Hurricane Sandy, slept over my apartment, introduced me to their own families, helped me move out of my own classroom in a quick, organized way (I am forever grateful), and shared countless nights of laughter over wine.  I am convinced hands-down that our school has the best kids and families in the world.  Almost every day lately something will happen that reminds me of a former student and I am faced with the reality that I won’t see them again and I didn’t get to say goodbye.  And, although I hear that you will love kids wherever you go, I do question whether that is really true.  (Before you roll your eyes, let me just say that we have the most adorable, funny, compassionate, feisty, and overall amazing kids on the planet.  And they will be hard to top.)

I am hopeful (and on most days, pretty confident) that I will be gaining an experience that will broaden my expertise as a teacher.  I will be coming back to the special ed world, a place that was so familiar to me during grad school, but after two years as a general education teacher, brings a new set of challenges.  I really do love first grade and feel it may be the best grade for me to teach—there is nothing like watching students come to you in September as babies from kindergarten and leave in June able to read, add, and make friends, all with way more confidence.  I’m grateful to be able to focus on this special year and age-group.  (And I’m sure my new students will be adorable, funny, compassionate, and feisty as well.  Kids are the reason I chose this job. :) )  Being close to my family, my church, my amazing dance classes, and the beach are all other positives.  I’m excited to experience all of it.

Although I am sad and nostalgic to think of leaving my North Jersey friends, I know that we are really not that far from each other and that friendships worth having can withstand the distance.  

I may be cautiously starting to subscribe to the belief that good things really do find us when we stop looking.  All I need to do is keep showing up.  There is good ahead.

It's JUST a stupid parking spot!

Here’s the scene:  It’s midday at Trader Joe’s and I’m ready to check out.  I push my cart into a line and immediately check Facebook on my phone.  (I always pick the longest line by mistake, so I have learned to just distract myself.)  The woman who has been front of me, cartless, proceeds to grab her cart from the line next to me, thus adding one more cart between me and the cash register, and lengthening my wait.  The woman in that line says, irritated, “There’s someone behind you.”  The woman ignores her.  The assertive woman urges me to say something.  I shrug my shoulders, say, “It’s all good,” and continue to scan my newsfeed for engagement rings and birth announcements.  This is a battle I am not choosing today.

Since I was tiny, I have not been very assertive or aggressive, and yes, at times it has cost me.  I let kids walk over me throughout elementary school, insisting they’d be my “best friend,” only to leave me for someone with more sparkly nail polish the next week.  I hated gym because I did not care enough to try to wrestle a ball away from anyone.  I was never one of those kids that ran to the line—I didn’t mind being last; we’re all going to the same place.  I have never seen those things as worth fighting over.

When it comes to people I love, or ideas that are important to me, I am fierce and I’m a fighter.  No, you may not call me “bitch” and ask for a second date with me.  (Yes, this actually happened!)  If you use racial slurs in front of me, I don’t really want to hang out with you.  I will walk out of any church that preaches against homosexuality.  I have no problem telling a friend that the boy she is with is a jerk and she deserves better.  I have almost gotten into fights with people I have met, out for drinks with friends, who have made negative comments toward my students and their families, particularly those who do not speak English fluently.

However, in many respects, I am still not aggressive.  Go ahead, take the parking spot.  Pass me on the parkway.  I am not going to race you for the best spot in yoga class.  I could care less.  (Side note:  In North Jersey, if you are not an aggressive driver, you have zero respect on the road.  I am somehow able to hold my head high anyway.  Miracles happen.)

Although I sit back, waving people on, calmly waiting to exit the concert (we will all be stuck in traffic anyway), I notice that our society has definitely become one that grabs, races, and always wants to be first.  It seems the competitive nature that comes with capitalism and chasing the American dream has spilled into our lives on the sidewalk, in the workplace, in our neighborhoods.  We are taught to be aggressive (B-E AGGRESSIVE!) and to get to the cash register, stadium entrance, past the bouncer, before everyone else.

I wonder what this is doing for us as a people.  Do we really feel that satisfied when we beat the person behind us?  Are we really in that much of a hurry that we can’t be bothered by fact that we just cut off the family in the other lane?  I once spent 10 minutes in the passenger seat of a friend’s car, where my friend flipped off and cursed at a set of grandparents and their grandkids in the Point Pleasant parking lot, all because the grandpa has supposedly stolen his spot.  I had to wonder if my friend felt anything but mortified afterward, at having harassed the elderly.  It’s just a stupid parking spot!

What if we took a moment, next time we wanted to race to the line, and let the person in front of us go?  What if we just let the other person have the parking spot?  What if we started to teach our kids to really take turns, to let someone else go in front of them or take the first cookie?  I’m not saying that this is easy, or that there are not times that warrant being assertive.  I just wonder if teaching our kids to be more loving would be more conducive to happiness, both to the kids who are sharing and the ones being shared with.

Should I have spoken up to the lady in front of me?  Maybe.  It wasn’t right that she blatantly cut me.  Then again, to me, it REALLY wasn’t worth getting upset over.  It wasn’t worth any additional aggression today (on her part or mine).  Sometimes keeping calm feels better than being right.

How is it June already??

My second year as a teacher is quickly coming to a close.  Although I am incredibly excited to be able to be able to pee whenever I want, I also find myself thinking about what I have learned during my two short years as a first and second grade teacher.

I have learned...

That it is possible for me to love a little person so much it hurts...  Actually, several little people, all at once, each demanding something from me, every single day.

That the cycle of poverty is not an easy one to break, but that if we give up, our kids have no hope at all.  Also, that education is probably the biggest ticket our kids have to building a better life.

That I will probably never know everything there is to know about teaching reading.  Or writing, for that matter.  And that in spite of this, these are still my favorite subjects to teach.

That even though I may not be in love with my program, I am head-over-heels in love with my super colleagues and my kids, so I am blessed.

That, although we may work hard to change this, at the end of the day, our kids are not truly ours.  They go home to their parents and start to become them (not us), even at the age of 7.

That, although politics may preach differently, social-emotional development is just as (shhh.... maybe more?) important as academic development.  How much do we care about the kinds of people our children are going to be?  Fact:  Not all of my students will go to college.  Fact:  Most people learn to read and add eventually.  (Yes, I am aware of the research stating that once children fall behind in literacy, they fall further behind, and am not advocating that we lower our academic expectations.)  But, in my opinion, learning to be kind and to have confidence are life skills that are too important to be left behind in a push for higher level delivery of instruction. 

That I am pretty sure my kids will leave my room knowing that the previous sentence is true.

That I will cry for hours on Friday after my second graders leave.

That I'm told NOTHING can really prepare you for motherhood, and that makes sense to me.  But getting a card from one of my young friends that says "I love you forever," followed by death stares and tears hours later because I kept her in to finish her work, is pretty close.  (Especially after having the "I know this is hard, but I believe in you and you're better than this," talk.  And knowing that she probably hasn't heard that much at home.)

That, in spite of all the tears, the binging on chocolate, the glasses of wine (I'm human, after all!), fears of unannounced observations, evaluations, and the threats of merit pay looming, I would do the past two years over again, the exact same way.  Mostly because I have never, ever loved this hard.  And I am a better person because of that.