Monday, May 5, 2014

Sure Things

I don't recall falling asleep last night. I had gone for a long run yesterday and been short of sleep the last four nights. Last I recall, I turned off the music, pulled the comforter up, and rolled onto my shoulder. From there it's darkness and mystery. When my alarm went off, I was in a mood to remain where I was.

I got up knowing that I wanted to do a few things. Empty the dishwasher, make lunch, brew coffee, and go down to my basement nook to write. I'm writing now and unsure where it will go, but sure that it's the right thing for me to do.

It's not often I'm so sure about anything. Yesterday, I wasn't sure I was enjoying the long run. I kept going because I had signed up to finish and was running with my best friend. We wanted to finish, but if you had asked us at mile eight, I'm not sure we would have said that we were enjoying ourselves. If you had offered us a chance to hike the Grand Canyon instead, we would have been gone.

But I know that there isn't much I'd rather do right now than this writing. Even if I was at the Grand Canyon, I would be writing about it now, finding out what thought-seeds the place planted in my mind and growing them with every click of the keys.

Soon I'll have to pack this in for the morning and go to work. I'll go through that part of my day. I don't want to go and know that I won't love the time I spend there. That's how I know that I'm done teaching at my current school.

This weekend read my friend's piece about why he is a teacher. It's beautiful, poetic and lovely, and I read it twice. It got me thinking about how and why I became a teacher. I got into this to create, to find new solutions, and to change how schools work. I've found that I can't seem to do that. Education policies have become dragons too big for me to slay.

So I would write about getting out. It makes me a little sad to no longer love what was my calling, but the job has changed and no longer fits. Being sure of that is just as important as feeling sure about writing. I know that I no longer want to be where I am. I know what I like and have the beginning sense of where I want to go.

I just don't know yet how to get there, but I didn't know what I would write when I began this piece. I wrote, "I don't recall falling asleep last night," and worked from there. I knew that I just had to keep going, one word at a time, believing in that process. It works and applies outside of writing too.

Even without keyboard or pen, I'm sure that I need to keep going and write on.