Crafty

I've had a blast working with these kids in Arts & Crafts the past six days. Today, in many ways, I felt I hit my stride.

The girls came today, and outside we had the station where they worked on painting their major project. Inside, though, I had stations for pom pom creatures, legos, beads, draw your favorite counselor, and face paint, which my junior counselor and I did.

What was neat about this is that a lot of my education training came into play. For starters, the room was set up in stations, but more than that - there was a lot of choice involved in what campers could do. There was no defined product at any station - they weren't copying things so that each product looked the same - they could go with it any way they wanted to. Counselor help was where it needed to be - with the stations that required assistance. I set boundaries - no more than four at face painting at a time, and also a clear awareness from the beginning that there was no way we could paint all faces, that they would have to prioritize what was most important to them; and finally, I positioned myself so I could keep an eye on everything at once.

From a teaching perspective - I had:
Management
Choice
Creativity
Self Direction
Engaged workers

From a camper perspective, they had fun. The sound of arts and crafts was happy, with quiet talking between campers, and at no time was the chaos anything other than controlled. It was awesome.

A friend/former student of mine commented that she just couldn't see me doing face painting, plus all the crafty things I've got going on. I told her to reframe it - to think of how I often structured classes for them, and encouraged them in their teaching. If she could do that, then she could picture it.

This experience really is good for me - it's a different setting, certainly, but in many ways it's giving me a chance to practice what I preach. I like that.

Little Things

Yesterday, there was a boy in Arts & Crafts who was upset about his horseback helmet. He didn't like that it had Batman on it - not sure if someone made fun of him because of it, but he asked if I had anything that could cover it up. I told him I had duck tape, and then on a whim I asked him if he was a Bama fan. Sure enough, he was, which is good, because that's the only team duck tape I had in the back at Arts & Crafts. It took about 5 minutes, but by the time I was done, he had a personalized Bama decorated horseback helmet.

One of the campers is sick and in the infirmary - I was asked if there was anything she could do on her project while she's up there. While there's not, I put together a care package of beads with the letters of her name, string, pom poms, googly eyes, glue, and a "cracker barrel" solitaire game and took it to her.

Another girl, who has part of my name in hers, has gotten frustrated with me not remembering her name [that's something I'm horrible about, and it frustrates me, too]. I've passed her three times today, and gotten her name right - today she brought me a pipe cleaner bracelet she created during Arts & Crafts time.

One boy made a point of telling me he had a book with plane insignia on it, and he wanted to bring it to Arts & Crafts to get the details right on the plane he was decorating. He opted to decorate with sharpies rather than paint, and then asked how we could do a star on the Air Force symbols. I showed him the technique of how to use the back end of the paint brush and put dots in the corners of the star, and then connect the dots.

Little things.... all part of why I'm loving being at camp.

Camp, week 1

My friend Allen, one of the directors at camp, has encouraged me to write about my experiences this summer - and here is as good a place as any. I'm not really sure how to organize my thoughts, so tonight's will likely be a bit scattered.

A week ago, I put all my belongings except for my piano into storage, signed a contract on a house where I'm moving, and drove to camp - the same camp I attended as a camper and was a counselor at 21 years ago. This journey started back in October, and I wrote about it here, although then it was just a possibility. Now, it's a reality.

How lucky am I to be able to stop the normal flow of life as I've created it [which isn't entirely true - I have work that I'm doing while I'm at camp, too], and step back? How many people can structure their lives in such a way to be able to return to and work at a camp for six weeks? I know of very few others who can do this.

Now that I'm here, though, I find myself in a very surreal place, which I expected and prepared myself for, doing pretty much exactly the same job I did 21 years ago. So much has changed, yet so much is the same, too. The part that has changed is a bit of a learning curve, which I admit has been fun. I find myself challenged - not in a hard or bad way, but in one that is intriguing to me. The teachers in this case are my coworkers... which leads me to an entirely different train of thought:

One of the interesting places I find myself is simply in finding a place. I'm a senior counselor, in charge of arts & crafts, the canteen, and doing whatever other odd job I'm asked to do. My senior counselor coworkers range in age from 19-22, while the directors of the camp programs are all about my age or older that I am. So in some ways, I have no place that is mine. There's not exactly a peer group I can just hang with all the time.

At the same time, that allows me a freedom that is a bit different. I am able to float in and out of groups and belong, yet not belong. In some ways, it's refreshing. While I have my duties here, I'm not totally and completely "in charge" of the program like I am in so many other areas of my life. I'm not the one making the "big" decisions, but certainly small decisions that impact the quality of camp life from my corners of the program. I'm obviously invested in the camp - my children go here, and I want camp to be a special place for so many others.

Which leads me back to that sense of place. The other senior counselors have had a bit of a time figuring out what to do with/around me. How much should they trust me? Should they let me in? What exactly am I doing here? How do you work with someone who is also a parent? I know this only because of how I read people, and glimmers of conversations here and there.

I've tried to put those questions aside, and just be who I am. Not worry about how others look at me - just do my job, talk with people and learn from them, and enjoy being here. And for the most part, I'm succeeding. I did have a night off tonight, went into town and got a pedicure, went to Mellow Mushroom for dinner. I brought the leftovers back to the senior staff lounge where a good number of them were hanging out and they were eaten pretty quickly. Had I been thinking, I would have put in an order to bring back to them - I will next time. Sitting in there with them was the most relaxed I've felt any of them around me, and a willingness to let me into some of the conversations that occur when it's just staff. Having been staff, I know what those are and what they look and feel like. The feeling doesn't change, regardless of the players. I wondered when that beginning to relax would occur, and I have to say the fact that I felt it more tonight than previously causes me to breathe a small sigh of relief. I wanted to feel that prior to my children arriving. I wanted to sense that I was a part of the rhythm of camp.

And that thought leads me to one of the truths about camp:

There is a rhythm here that feels timeless. I experienced it for the first time the summer of 1983. Today, in the canteen, one of the songs on the radio was "Sunglasses at night," which was played a lot at camp during the summer of 1984, and just hearing that song made me think, as it always does, of being out at the lake skiing. So much of what I'm doing and experiencing feels almost innately familiar. The routines, the ringing of the bell to wake us up and at meals, the chimes played at more reflective parts of the day, vespers and talking ceasing at the "line of silence," the break midday at the canteen, the sounds of campers in the cabins and talking at arts and crafts.... Walking through camp, retracing steps I first took nearly 30 years ago, I find myself sinking back into that surprisingly familiar rhythm.

More than that, though. I find that rhythm wrapping its arms around me.

When I first thought of working at camp, I had no idea how much I would need this rhythm at this point in my life.

Faith

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This post may come off a bit trite. I hope not. And I wish the story were complete, but it's not, either... but I'm feeling the need to acknowledge the universe for a bit, and writing things out always helps me.

So, I accepted the job. And my house is on the market. It's shown 2x since going on the market, and, well, that's discouraging.

I've been looking for a place to live where the new job is. I have wrestled with whether to buy or rent, because I have this house sitting here... and I finally settled on buying for several reasons: my parents are helping me make this happen, and two - the words from a friend of mine when I asked him his thoughts:

I'm looking for a house, and it's a financial & real estate transaction. You're looking for a home, where your kids will spend the years making a lot of memories that will carry them forever. While they certainly can do that from a rental house, if you're in a position to buy, it gets you all settled and focused on other more important things.

He's right. I need to be focused on other things for their sake. They are the main reason I'm making this move.

He also said this:

As for the parents, I think its a good thing. Your time in ____ has been asserting how things now work, and they seem to get it finally. They've put out their rules respective to this transaction, you have your own. I'd say appreciate it and take it.

I've gone to look at houses four times now. The third time I made an offer on a house. My mother, after looking at the pictures of this house, was not happy. The owner countered, and we ended up walking away.

The fourth time I went, I went with my parents. Most of the way to meet them, I prayed. I cried, prayed, and finally felt a peace. My prayer was simple, in many ways. I asked to be held, and I figuratively climbed up into God's lap and felt comforted while I cried. After I poured out my heart, I asked for clarity in knowing what I needed to do. That if I found the house I was supposed to have, that I would be given a sense of peace and knowing that I was in the right place.

So, when my parents and I looked at the house I had made an offer on, Mom's reaction to that house was clearly not positive. As the day progressed, I felt a greater sense of defeat. I found one house I liked, but it wasn't quite right.

I did gain clarity, though. I gained a sense of what it was my parents wanted. They didn't want to tell me what to do, but they want my children and me to be in a place that doesn't cause them to worry. And, more importantly, they want to do what they can to make that happen. As a daughter, I had to reconcile the competing need I have to be independent and a grown up who doesn't need support with their need to still be my parents. Add to that the reality that they are in a position to make possible for me something that I clearly need, and honestly, that they need, too. In accepting that, I gained peace. As painful as that has been, I got a pretty powerful answer to prayer.

So, that night, I changed the parameters of my search. I started looking at homes that cost more, but that are move in ready.

The next morning, a house came on the market that in pictures, is perfect. Exactly what I would want.

Yesterday, the second day the house has been on the market, my parents went to pre-screen it. They called while they were in the house and told me I need to make an offer. So, I talked with the realtor and I'm going to see this house today. I've also sent her my pre-qualification letter, and will likely leave her an earnest money check today prior to submitting the offer with my realtor, who is not available this weekend.

In the meantime, another offer has already been made on the house... the owner is waiting to accept it because the realtor knows my story and would like me to have an opportunity to present an offer. So that means I really don't have much negotiating room.

Sigh....

I'm seeing answered prayers right and left, truly. Timing is very intriguing, too. At the same time, the sense of internal stress is high, because I don't like competing for a house. I can accept that I might not get it, and that I may need to walk away. The child in me doesn't want to, though. I want this house.

So, in writing this, I'm in many ways writing out a prayer. One for faith in God's plan, in walking through open doors, and in trust that things will work out as they should be. I can feel it, deep inside... but I can also feel me trying to wrestle this one away from God. I'm trying to approach the next few days from a faithful position, not a faithless one.

Things will be as they should be. Amen.

Open Doors

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So much has been on my mind for so long,

so with apologies in advance, this will be long.

This story, however, is not really for the current readers of this blog,

although I know a number of you

will read with interest, because you love me :).

This post is really for my daughters at some point in the future.

Thank you, digital footprint, for preserving this story for them.

There is something to be said about loving what you do. If I were to create a job description that had everything that I could possibly want in it, the job description would be that of "Mentor Leader," which is what I have been for four out of the six years I have taught in our cohort program.

A Mentor Leader is a professor within the College of Education responsible for leading a cohort of students, typically women (but not always) through the last two years of college. We start a group of students at the beginning of their junior year and teach them their last four semesters, plus arrange field placements and supervise them in elementary classrooms - really getting to know their strengths and weaknesses. As a Mentor Leader, I teach the courses that I feel are most important in my students' development in thinking about teaching, so I am able to scaffold their learning and help guide them into becoming developmentally appropriate teachers who can think for themselves, and think critically about what they do and why. In many ways, I also become their professional parent. They lean on me not only for professional support, but I frequently get to be the shoulder they lean on for personal matters.

I love the relationships that form in the cohort program. I've had more job satisfaction in this job than I have ever had before, mainly because I get to be a part of the development not only of individuals into teachers, but also their development into a living, breathing supportive group who are so very special to me. The women I've taught I've invested my soul into, and I am so proud of the teachers they have become. My sense of purpose has been sky high.

About a year ago, I found out I would not be a "Mentor Leader" to the group of students who started last Fall. After I got over the shock, and fully digested the reasons, which I couldn't argue with (the best way to learn the program is to be a Mentor Leader, and we had someone who needed to learn the program - I was the obvious choice to handle some other issues that had been percolating), I thought to myself, "Hmm. I wonder if it is time to start pushing on some doors."

I've long said that paying attention to the signs around you is a way of knowing what God is saying. It's up to us to look and listen. And then push on doors that He seems to be pointing to... if they open, walk through. If they are hard to open, quit pushing. You're not supposed to go that way. Pay attention. Trust your gut. And either walk through or stop, based on the answer that you get, without regret or thinking, "what if?"

The door pushing thought emerged primarily because of timing. I've often thought I would not be able to leave a cohort I was leading midway through the two year period. The change in my job description caused me to examine other factors not related to work. First and foremost, I couldn't miss the fact that both of my girls would be transitioning schools at the end of this academic year, which is when the midway point of a cohort I would have led would have been. Sign number one.

This fall was one of the hardest I've experienced in this job. While I enjoyed my new responsibilities and the new courses I was teaching, the job change actually took me away from my children several nights a week, and we suffered as a family. I alluded to that here and here, and maybe some other places. Additionally, I became more and more frustrated with my children's school experiences. They were not getting what I wanted them to get at school. I also watched and listened to my children express frustrations with their father. Their relationship seemed to be suffering. I started looking ahead at what the next few years would look like and I realized that their visitation schedule would be severely limited due to extracurriculars, dating, parties, etc. All seemed like signs I needed to pay attention to.

So, I started trying to push on different doors. One door I explored, and I've long played with, is the idea of leaving the college level and going into school administration. I started the coursework for it as part of my doctorate, and I hated it. I honestly felt the soul being sucked out of my body during those classes. So, I stopped - it's one of the few times I've backed out of something I started. Still, I continued to entertain the idea at various points. Most recently, I've talked with people I work with about doing the coursework here, and even applied for admission - only to hit some major road blocks. I took the test for certification on the state level and passed, but didn't go through with the paperwork for no particular reason other than I just never got around to it. Last fall, when I started pushing on doors, I went and inquired about it... only to find out that I had inquired a day after the rules had changed and I was no longer eligible to go that particular route. Um... hello. Quit pushing on that door.

In the meantime, I started paying attention to job postings near Atlanta. Two popped up, and I explored the websites of the institutions. One of the jobs had popped up last year, and I eyed it then, but determined in my heart that it wasn't time, so I didn't bother to apply. The other job is one I've just waited to open up.

I pushed on the door and applied to both. But only to those two.

What did I find out?

I'm marketable. I got interviews at both institutions. Wow.

I interviewed at one in mid February, and I knocked the interview out of the park. Research presentation - stellar. Teaching demonstration - incredible. It was one of those times where you just know how well you did not only intuitively, but also in how the conversation shifted as part of the interview.

I also had some concerns that emerged during the interview. I wondered, out loud, during the interview (geez - that was rather gutsy of me, now that I think about it): Would I be able to build the relationships there that I have been able to build here? Would I be happy with the volume of students who come through? What about field supervision? Most professors don't do it - how could I frame my teaching without that? How did they justify changes made to courses if they weren't in the field knowing what worked and what didn't? If they weren't really in touch with trends in the schools? Further, could I supervise students if I wanted to? I challenged the professors I talked to, and honestly enjoyed the interactions and the conversations.

I left there knowing I had a decision to make. So I started processing what it would look like to take that job. What would it mean for my family? What would life look like there? Could I be happy, given my reservations? Am I done here?

So, what have I thought through?

• I've spent the past six years healing. I'll likely always be healing, but I feel more whole now than I ever have.
• My children and I have grown together. We are a family - a whole, unbroken family.
• While we may be a whole family, the relationship between my girls and their father has suffered. I don't want that for them.
• I've long been unhappy with the school situation my kids experience - It seems at many school functions we've been to that the most recurring thought that has emerged is that they are mired in mediocrity, with a few bright exceptions to the rule. Meetings, ceremonies, etc - all have felt like going through the motions and have been quite painful for me as a career educator. I've looked for a number of alternate solutions, including home schooling.
• I love my job. Love my job. Let me say it again. I love my job. How many people can honestly say that? I love my job. Redundant? I don't think so. I love my job.
• There's more to a whole life than a job.
• Target. I've missed Target. [kidding, a little... but shopping opportunities are plentiful where this job is]

Clearly, I've prayed. Thought. Digested. Driven around with no radio on so I could think. Listened. And in the end, I've felt a peace about my decision - everything about it feels right, and I have complete faith and trust that things will work out as they should. I've imagined life continuing here as it is now, and there as it would be.

When the call came, I accepted the job offer without reservation.

A bittersweet decision, because I obviously love my job. I do not leave this job easily, and that is by far the hardest thing with which to come to terms. The new job, however, is 20 miles away from the girls' dad, rather than the two hours away we are now, and he will have the opportunity to be more involved in their lives if he so chooses. If he chooses not to, then the fault lies with him and not with me. I have a sense that the girls will get what they need at school, and that it will also be easier for me to advocate for them. I also have a sense that it may take awhile for me to be as satisfied professionally, but that there is abundant opportunity for me to shape the job in the way that I need it to be shaped based on my family's needs. It's a matter of being patient, strategic, and thoughtful - skills I've certainly honed here.

The whole picture makes sense to me - there seems to be a balance that has been missing. So it is with complete faith that I'm walking through this door. No regrets. No what ifs. And faith that the logistical things, such as selling my house, will work out as they are supposed to.

There is much to do between now and then, particularly at work, where I have my fingers in a number of projects. I am committed to not leaving my job until I leave my job, so I anticipate the next few months at work being very full. There's a reason I have a good reputation on campus, and I can't even begin to imagine doing anything to change that at this point. That is a very good thing.

My girls are excited about the move, although nervous, too. The unknown is scary. I hope and pray, though, that this opportunity will help them further grasp what courage, possibility, and hope look like. That they learn how to test doors, look and listen to what God is telling them, but more importantly - they learn that it's ok to imagine life differently, and if it's the right thing, then make it happen, rather than letting life happen to them.

Silence

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Yesterday morning I did a Multiple Intelligences Inventory with my students - something I've done for the past few years when I teach this particular course. And just like every year, I take it, too, because inevitably what is strongest for me has changed. The ones I expect to be strong are, but whichever one is the strongest changes from time to time.

What struck me this time was one of the indicators, found in Musical Intelligence (one of my stronger ones):

"Concentration is difficult for me if there is background noise."

That's an easy one for me to check. That's why I can't work at the office. That's why I frequently work in silence at home. When I did my dissertation, I usually worked at night after everyone went to bed.

This time, however, it struck me because the radio in my car has been silent for the past few weeks. I haven't even thought about it.

I've had a lot on my mind. Some big things that I've needed to think through regarding sorority, school for the girls next year, not to mention professional and personal concerns. I've noticed for awhile that when I have to process things, I need to be by myself and noise needs to be diminished, but I've never connected it to Musical Intelligence.

I've found it interesting that I really haven't written about all that's on my mind. It could be that another one of my strongest intelligences, the Intrapersonal one, has kicked in. I often use writing to help me process, but that is usually when I want the thoughts to come out, not stay in. These thoughts I've needed to live with for awhile - just to see if I can be comfortable with them. Likely why I've been silent here, too. I'm just not comfortable enough for a larger audience to play with my thoughts yet. A few people have been privy to them, but as a whole - these thoughts live with me right now.

The radio will be back on soon, and then I'll be able to let those thoughts spread their wings. I know that I'll be writing about them, because I want there to be a record of them for my children to see when they get older. One thing I can say at the moment is that I'm certain that it's time for a new chapter in my life. A large portion of that new chapter is nothing but attitude - how I look at things; others are much more concrete. The impact of that new chapter is far reaching for my family.

In the meantime, I'm looking forward to the shift that comes from not just imagining life differently, but from actually living it differently ... for now, though, I'm sitting in silence, watching the pieces rearrange themselves and fit into place in a way I had not imagined before.

Voices Inside My Head

Yesterday night, my youngest informed me she wanted to go to church this morning.

Let me back up a minute and explain why this is interesting. Prior to moving here, we were at church every single Sunday. As part of the move, I made a decision that it was time to explore my spirituality a little differently. We went to a church about an hour away then, and it was exactly what I needed at the time - very progressive, liberal, and a place to heal. But then it wasn't. So we stopped going. It was hard to get there.

I tried going to church where I live, and became intensely frustrated. I'm just not a match for what I'm hearing, and there are some services I just can't stomach, so there's no reason to even try with them. Regardless, going to church served to take me farther away from where I was than where I needed to be. So we quit going.

In the past few months, both girls have deepened friendships with children who attend a church that can be in my comfort zone, and I've encouraged them to go. So when my youngest said she wanted to go to church today, I fully encouraged it, and went with her. Her motivation, though, is to have the opportunity to play with her friend - there isn't a spiritual reason for it, really. That's fine, though.

I do want them to develop spiritually, but it's been hard to do that formally because of location.

So, today I went with my youngest - and I left the service with many voices inside my head. And I've had to write them out, because a)I have other things I really need to focus on and b) they have been festering. If a sermon is designed to make you think, then kudos to the minister, because that is indeed what happened. So here they are:

1. This church has a very White population. There was also an insert in the bulletin about the evangelism committee. The expectations listed were so surface in nature that I thought about the fact that I often wonder if I am mired in mediocrity - Surrounded by people who are not willing to think differently.
2. I couldn't help but think about the huge racial divide where I live.
3. This sermon went away from the typical Methodist litany in that it wasn't over the selected scriptures for the week. In fact, no scripture was directly referenced. The sermon was actually 4 sermons written by a "Black preacher" (and that's a quote from the minister, so I will stick with the adjective) years ago that the minister had memorized. So here I am in a very White church hearing words originally spoken by a Black minister for what I assume was a Black audience. And the minister changed his voice to be more similar in delivery to a Black preacher. Huge irony there. And I couldn't help but think that this is indeed a stretch for many in the congregation.
4. After I got past the irony, I listened to the words and the cadence. They were beautiful. I understood why the minister loved the words, yet I remained somewhat bothered by the license that people take when re-crafting stories for an audience. How much liberty should be allowed before the meaning becomes lost?
5. The fact that the minister clarified that even though the words in the sermon only mentioned men, it was to all. My feminist side rankled a bit.
6. DD2 looked at me after the Lord's Prayer and said "I don't know this." A moment of guilt washed over me. I need to do something about that.
7. The last sermon he gave from what he memorized was about the crucifixion, and was written as if someone was there watching. During this sermon, I had my arm around DD2 and she was snuggled in. She played with my jewelry and I stroked her hand, and I was taken back to my childhood for a moment.
8. Within that same sermon I was able to imagine myself as Jesus' mother. Watching the scene, and knowing in my heart that I would take his place if it meant saving my child from such agony. The true manifestation of unconditional love. And then
9. Wondering again about how the congregation (and I include myself in this word) received the message - is there a sense of being willing to learn from others who are not like us, and genuinely being open to it, rather than feeling good about it after a false sense of bridge building? Goes back full circle to #1.

I wonder how others processed the sermon today. I really do.

I'm glad I went.