Sometimes we write to scratch an itch, even though we know it will never be satisfied. On this particular Sunday I know I have more questions than answers. I’m reaching the part of the school year where I struggle with balance. When a teacher ed student at the University of Northern Iowa with Mr. J.D. Cryer, I remember clearly a lesson he taught about time management. He talked about prioritizing our commitments of work and family and faith. I sat at my table in his 2nd floor classroom at the Price Lab School nodding in agreement. Yes, it will be all about balance, I thought. And really, I want it to be. I want to be a great wife and mother and teacher. I want to have time for baking fresh blueberry muffins and helping my sons with their homework and going on dates with my husband and responding fully to student writing. That can happen only if I never sleep. Because in the midst of those duties I also need to wash the dishes, put in a load of laundry, enter grades to the online gradebook, and make copies of student reading goals. If I stop too often and think about my to-do list, I might not be able to breathe. (And yes, I sometimes make that mistake.) When I focus on teaching blogs and books, I want to be Teacher of the Year. When I think about my own children and their emotional/social needs, I know I need to put in the time to be Mother of the Year. In the meantime I want to focus on social justice issues and advocate for issues of racial equality and be more involved in my church. And is it too much to ask to have a few minutes with my husband at the end of the day in a clean house? On more than one occasion this past week, I’ve wanted to have Hermione Granger’s Time-Turner. Because there’s just never. enough. time. Each morning I wake before the rest of the house to start the coffee and spend a few minutes with Jesus. I read a some verses, spend a few moments in silence, and read from my devotional. I remember who I am, who I serve, why I do what I do. In those moments I feel like I can conquer the day with dignity and style. I have glimpses of those early-moment moments throughout the day, reminders of my Why: an insightful conversation with a writing student about his personal narrative, a quiet “have a nice day” from an often reticent student, a sweet unprompted hug from my youngest son, the sun playing hide-and-seek through the trees during an afternoon family bike ride. I pause and reflect and say, “Thank you, God.” For a supportive husband and sons who make me laugh, for the reliable changing of seasons and the promise of falling leaves, for the Truth that comes in song and story. That’s where I am tonight as I sit at the kitchen table while my sons watch a movie. The house is still a mess, and the papers still glare at my from my canvas teaching bag. The early-evening sun kisses my toes from the sliding glass door. In awhile I’ll read another chapter of Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix to my precious sons and then I’ll laugh at some meaningless TV show with my husband. Tomorrow I’ll wake and start another week of feeling perpetually behind and breathing deeply and expressing gratitude. I will never find perfect balance; perhaps I should give up my search now. Maybe instead I’ll begin my quest for the best peanut butter pancake recipe or the meaning of life. Or maybe I’ll just remember to pause, to pray and be grateful.
2 Comments
Nancy Anderson
9/21/2015 09:06:22 am
I have wanted to let you know since last year when you had Riley as a speech student that you are an amazing teacher. He learned that being pushed out of your comfortable box brings personal growth and confidence. Thank you for caring so much about our kids. Love reading all of your messages.
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