The Longest Week

It feels like months since last week. When life is busy, the days seem to roll into each other as every scheduled event comes and is then crossed off before the next scheduled event. Since this time last week, friendships have been restored, decisions about the near future made, and success has permeated every section of my working life. Life is good. But tiring lol.

I am an introvert. I think most writers are. We recharge through solitude; solitude that is really just an opportunity to revisit and live the lives that exist in our imaginations. Or so it is for me. Creativity, for me, is stifled in congestion. I need openness – of time or of space or of mind. It is difficult when none of those components is available.

I felt my first moment of ‘Tina’ yesterday at my guitar lesson. I took up guitar two months ago because I was craving creative time and Tina time; a time when the phone or when other people are closed off from me. To make up for a missed lesson we spent an hour teaching and learning. Owen is a great teacher for me. Listens to my crap then dismisses my crap. It is always zen. I walk out feeling … happy, calm, at peace. With sore fingers that tingle for hours afterwards. And I love it.

Success at work. Our very first ever Creative and Performing Arts Showcase. Success. Never having organised one before, this was ultimately a spotlight on procedure and potential. Revitalising. Watching kids perform and excel. Students who feel terrified before the curtain rises, so to speak, conquering the fear and engaging an audience. Parents commenting that they usually watch the clock at school performances but didn’t, not once, on Tuesday night. And the feeling of complete and utter pride and love I then feel for my beautiful, committed staff … success.

And a beautiful presentation for Subject Selection. Listening to those same staff, twenty four hours later, another late night, speaking to parents about the realities of the courses we offer … professional, knowledgeable, charming … success.

And my extracurricular club, The Writers Room, started this afternoon. Since the changes in the English Syllabus, there really isn’t much (or any) scope to really engage kids with creative writing. And the saddest thing, most teenagers utilise creative writing to work through their angst, express their views and explore their worlds. And so my club has been received positively by my boss and by our students. And as I reflected after, I realised that it is probably more about connection, with one another, with place, with ideas. And ultimately, isn’t that what school and education is about.

A Year 7 girl showed her Art teacher a story that she has been working on. Her Art teacher told her to show me. She came and saw me at lunch and I read it. A story about horses. Each horse represents a member of her family. And their experiences represent her life story. And she is not in the top classes, in fact far from them. Has demonstrated disconnection from others at school. Struggles. But her writing argues all of the perceptions about her. And she is now coming to The Writers Room. Every Friday. After school. By choice. Success.

And the week closes with me returning to writing. More success lol.

I really do love my job. Teaching allows me to find inspiration every day. Some days it is in the kids, some days in my staff and the love we share for one another, other days it is solely in the notion that we are all wading through mud together. But wade we do because it often leads to us soaring soon enough after …


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