Intentions- A Month Overdue

At yoga, I was reminded today is February 1, 2014. The year of the Wood Horse.

 A month into the New Year and I never wrote out my intentions for 2014.

August 13, 2013-Febraury 1, 2014. 

It is like I took one breath and the months flew by.

So here are my “Intentions for 2014:”

1. Breathe. I can get a pretty, deep, loud, breath on my mat. However, I need to learn to breathe throughout my days, take in the beauty and just breathe. When I just breathe, I have the best outcomes. Look for the beauty, in everything. Always peek back at the journey. See how far I have come. Make time for friends. Old and new. I grow the most when surrounded with friends. 

2. Time. There is never enough time. I watch the clock. All day. Leave for work. Early. Earlier. Greet the students. Shuffle them to specials. Bathroom break. Morning Work. Math. UGH, math took too long. Lunch. Reading. Writing. Centers. More reading. No time for my own family. No time. Always racing. I need to let the clock go. I am sure every teacher feels this clock. Hovering over them. Ticking. Repeat intention number one.

3.Write more. A friend texted me,” I love your posts. You are such a great writer.” One of my papers on spelling words and how to teach spelling effectively is going to print in September in a journal. (I HATE Spelling Words and tests for the record.) I can write. Both for pleasure and for educational purposes. I started writing stories for my first graders. It was fun. Make time to write! 

(And there is that word again. TIME.)

4. “I am kind of Hippy Dippy.” I heard myself say to my team lead and she relied, “ I kind of figured that out.” There is nothing wrong with Hippy Dippy. Embrace I do not watch the news. I bathe in lavender and lather myself with eucalyptus. I use essential oils and love soybeans. I drink green tea and avoid caffeine. I believe in a connection to the divine and meditate daily. Hippy Dippy is fine. Embrace it! Which leads to...

5. Live Out Loud. I hid myself on Facebook. I did not want the people at my work to see me. I cowered in the hallways and hid in my room. A teacher at my school found me a couple of weeks ago and then another. Be myself. Choose to be seen. If they like me or not, i
t does not matter. I am Hippy Dippy anyways.

6. Continue to work on my relationship with Steven. It is time to get married. I am safe. He loves me. Life is so good right now. Continue the work on our relationship, which feels stronger than ever.

7. Family. I will never get mother of the year. Maybe I should embrace that part of my life too. I have done my best. I am not perfect. I love my children but I am always competing for their time, attention, etc. Let it go. I will never win. 

8. Continue to work out. I love to run. I can quiet my racing mind and refill my soul. I love yoga. I turn to it for growth and lets face it, a good straddle stretch can unwind a horrid day.

9 & 10. There is one student, which tries my patience every day, and can make me cringe. Learn to embrace those students who need me most. See the good in the situation and smile more. This intention is so great and my struggle is so deep, it deserves two intentions. 

So here they are, in print, for me to refer to all year long. I hope you do the same.

Choose Joy. 

First

First.

I am the first born sibling out of three.
First to drive.
First to get married.
First to have a child.
First to buy a house.
First to get divorced.
First to fail my family, my kids. Split us up.
First to accept the marriage was over.
Ah, first of anything can be celebrated, good or bad. Right or wrong. At TCU, I would always want to go first. Get it over with. Take the leap. Sometimes leaping with my eyes closed.

The "First" time I hit a handstand.

"Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step." Martin Luther King Jr. 

First. That word rings in my ears daily.

First year teacher. First 'big girl" job. First pay check. First Grade.

A year of firsts.

A student asked me today, "Do you teach first grade?" I hear myself say, "I do."

I still cannot believe I teach first grade. I just knew I was a fourth grade writing teacher. My friends knew it. My professors knew it. And it was not to be.

My "first" First Grade Class.
21 first grade bright souls fill my every thought. I drag myself through intense workouts to quiet the constant chatter, which plagues me daily. I teach reading and writing. I put on a one act play, as I am sure most teachers do in their classroom, to engage their bright minds. To turn on a light bulb, which I know is there. "Please read when you leave my classroom," I pray.

First time to miss Halloween. I was in a parent conference.
First time to miss my son's first tennis match.
First time to miss my son's football game,
First of many invitations and dinners I have missed.

A year of firsts.

I teach writing. Not the writing I thought I was going to teach. I have a student. He would sit there and our dialogue would sound something like this. "What are you going to write about?" Student: "I don't know. I don't know how to write."

The many explanations, picture drawing, conversations, tears (both his and mine) yielded nothing.

It is day 95 in the school year and today was the FIRST time that student picked up a pencil and wrote during our writing time. He came to show me and the smile on his face is something I will remember forever. Was is perfect? No. Not even the genre we are covering. I don't care.

If I could frame that first story, I would.

Today was the first day I realized I am a writing teacher.

As I came running into my yoga studio, change of clothes in my hand, smile on my face because I left my desk a mess but I would get to do something so wonderful this evening, I received a warm smile from my teacher whom is an amazing, gifted writer. She shared a story at the beginning of class about stepping in a hole in the street over and over and over again. We walk down a street and fall into a hole. We walk down the same street the next day. We see the hole and continue to fall in the hole. We find comfort in the hole. We eventually know the hole is there, try to walk around it, and still we fall in.

Maybe one day, you don't step in the hole but accept a different path, a different street.

A "first" time down a new street.