Skip to main content

proffesional development

The other day I was in a different city.
Alone.
At at teaching conference.
Sure I know this city.
And sure I knew plenty of people in town.
And even a few at the conference.
But I found myself with a few empty hours
And I took off.

The conference had me a little panicked.
I used to go to the conference every year.
And came home with all kinds of new ideas, freebies, handouts and especially renewed excitement for what I was teaching.
This time.
It was really really crowded.
The first three workshops I tried to go to were full.
(and no you couldn’t sign up in advance)
I was frustrated and overwhelmed and a little panicked, instead of the excited I had been expecting. So I decided to take off until the next session which didn’t start for hours. Really, I was bolting.

The conference center was in a newly updated really hip part of town.
That usually I would want to explore.
But I kept walking.
For atleast a mile, probably two. Til I didn’t see anyone with obnoxious nametags any more. Taking in the city with every step.

And I found a book store.
And thought I’d found my spot.
But I was hungry and wanted more to eat than a cookie.
And I wasn’t sure I could resist the temptation.
So I kept moving until I saw the classic Starbucks logo.
But this Starbucks was small and dirty and a little sketchy. If that is even possible to imagine. There were bars on the window and I had to ask someone to unlock the bathroom for me. I ordered and spread out my papers to grade. And kept a close eye on my purse.
And looked around.
The man beside me was having long loud and very intense business conversations.
I looked briefly for a Bluetooth only to confirm what I predicted. That he was in fact talking to himself as he scribbled on post it after post and placed them orderly on his table.
I tried to smile and comment on something he had said to himself.
He quickly turned away and started to cover up his postits.
Another guy beside me had his laptop out and was very into his current world of warcraft game.
As in was giving himself an occasional peptalk and the rest of us the play by play.
Another shabbily dressed older man with a cane walked in.
There were some brief words with the barista.
She wasn’t particularly welcoming and asked him to move.
He threw his cane at her and sound some fabulous things that I can’t type here.
(although I guess that has never stopped me from using those words before).
I graded and sipped and listened.
I smiled and made eye contact.
And was finally comfortable.
And worried a little what this said about my life.
That I was happier in the middle of crazy starbucks than surrounded by my peers.
And the next day for lunch.
I had slightly less time and didn’t feel like spending money on coffee.
But I of course needed to escape the crazy that was the conference center.
So I bolted again.
And I found a bench.
A really great bench.
And read a really great book.

But each day I made my way back.
And my conference got better.
Especially the second day.
I did leave with a few new ideas, good handout, websites and some encouragement.
But most of all I came home with the peace of getting to wonder a city for a few hours.
Being alone.
Reading on park benches in the sun.
And a whole lot of fabulous time with some of my favorite people that I love (that is far too big and great and personal to fit into a blog post).
And none of that was in the workshop catalog at all.
But maybe the best thing for my soul.
And even my Monday.






Comments

Ann Kroeker said…
Sounds lovely, the bench, the book, the crazy Starbucks, and your awareness that you needed to get away.

I've been there, felt that, but not been bold enough to take that walk.

Popular posts from this blog

pace yourself

Tonight I went running with a friend ten years my junior. I asked her how far she was running and when she said only about 1.5 or 2 miles, I teased her that I could go at least twice that far. And to just let me know when she needed to stop. I have been running pretty regularly for the last few weeks. It isn’t long but keep increasing my time and distance. I’ve stopped getting blisters. I don’t suck wind after five minutes anymore and I was feeling pretty good about myself. Thinking I might even be able to out run this girl who was so much younger and obviously in more shape than me. As we started to jog I told her that I run pretty slow. Like my husband used to walk beside me while I ran, slow. And she slowed her gait a little bit for me but it was still faster than I usually go. I was a little embarrassed and was not going to ask her to slow down again. So I just ran at her pace. I stayed close. And was fading fast. A little over a mile in I was ready to quit. Again, pride, which isn...

pursue something else.

Americans like the idea of happy. of pursuing happiness. It is even one of our inalienable rights at least according to the Declaration of Independance. But I think maybe we should pursue something else. like love or joy or peace or contentment. and leave happy alone. Don't read me wrong. I am neither bitter nor cynical. Even my problems are good problems. I am positive. Half full. And most days I laugh a whole lot more than I cry. And simple things like a dance party in the living room, an hour alone in Barnes and Noble, the yellow pajama pants my son picked out for me for mother's day, potstickers, clean sheets, someone surprising me with coffee, jeans fresh from the dryer, a good song on the radio, or squeals of delight when I walk in the door all make my heart sing. They make me happy. For a minute. But when the squealing turns to screaming, my new pants are dirty, the sheets are in a jumble on the floor or the coffee runs out....where does that leave me? And happy isn'...

my first dance

My wedding day is a little bit of a blur. And it was a great day. But so many people and so much going on and so many moments that it is hard to remember them all clearly without the help of photographs. But I totally remember my first dance as a bride. And it wasn’t with my husband. Or even my father, or brother. I had quickly kicked off my heels and hid them underneath a table. Said my hellos and hugs and smiled until my face hurt. Someone ushered us through the buffet line and I piled my plate with hors d'oeuvres and headed to a table. But before I could pop a single shrimp in my mouth someone grabbed me firmly by the arm and pulled me onto the dance floor and into a jitterbug before I could protest. It was my husband’s granddaddy. A man I had only met about a few times and heard say about as many words. So I was a little surprised when he spun me around the dance floor. Eventually that night I danced with my husband. And my dad. And probably even my brother. But my fir...