I realized today--while sitting in Neeny's chair in my classroom, the chair that used to grace HER classroom, teaching reading and writing workshop from a passion that was shaped through growing and learning at HER knee--that I have outlived my dad.
I don't know how to describe the swirl of "stuff" that that realization stirs. It's not as if I'm particularly superstitious--like I thought I, too, would pass away at 33 years old (My brother thinks so. It's not uncommon, I guess.) but I am acutely aware of my mortality. Probably to the point of being weird about it. I understand keenly that it is absolutely possible to be here one minute, and gone the next. It affects my choices every single day. What if this were my last day? What if I never got a chance to apologize for that slight? What would I fix if I knew I only had days in which to fix it? What if I should have shown "I love you" more? Listened better. Walked more closely with a loved on going through a trial. Talked to more strangers. Stood up for more injustice. Spoken life. I don't want regrets.
Is that a by-product of loss? It's not as though I live with fear--I don't. I don't want the kind of control that counts my moments, or breaths. But I do live with a sense of urgency. Today matters. I don't know about tomorrow.
So anyway, today I sat in my 153rd meeting about how to improve test scores for learning disabled children. After listening to the 289th newscast about how education is broken, teachers stink, the world is doomed, blah blah blah. Bleakness. Discouragement. And I thought, "Really?" If this were my last day, would I want to go home with swollen feet from standing on them all day, a tension headache from trying to take on the entire world at once, an overwhelming sense of failure as a teacher and person, and having missed the point of the day that I was given? This precious gift of a day? That I got to spend with some of the most incredible, inspiring people I've ever met?
I was thinking about that when I ran over a curb and knocked the hubcap off my front tire. Subsequently, it was run over and smashed into smithereens by the car behind me. Bleah.
I don't know how I would live my last day on Earth if I knew that this was it. But it wouldn't be like this. Bleah.
What I wouldn't give for an hour with my Neeny.
1 comment:
Are you and Rose in a conspiracy to make all of the blogging world cry :) I know some of what you are thinking because I thought about outliving my Dad too when he died. It is kind of a morbid thought, but those kinds of things run through your mind at times like that. Know that you are special and that you make such a difference for those children. That should make your day worth it!
Post a Comment