When someone asks me where I grew up, I always say, "Everywhere". Then I explain that I am a brat. A military brat that is. I have moved 14 times in my life and attended 10 different schools. These moves occurred all before I turned 26 years old, and usually occurred every three years with the exception here and there being shorter or a tad longer. Needless to say, I still have the ability to unpack a box of things and reorganize a room in record time. My mom is a pro! I learned from the best.
The thing is, for the longest time my world revolved around change. It wasn't always easy, and there were a lot of tears. On move #6, from Ohio to California, I barely spoke a word the first couple of days on our cross country road trip. My parents tried their best to make it interesting by stopping by such exciting teen destinations as "The Cowboy Hall of Fame" and we might have seen the world's biggest ball of wax. Okay so maybe that is a bit of an exaggeration. But we did see the hall of fame. My dad was in his glory, me not so much.
It didn't help that I was going to have to start tenth grade after the school year had already started and be "the new girl" without the benefit of meeting new people during summer. For the record, this is a mortifying experience for most kids. As a teacher now, I see those kids who come during the middle of the year. My heart understands their trepidation and fear. Will I fit in? Where will I sit at lunch? I always make sure to treat these students with tenderness. It is a crucial time. They are fragile and vulnerable.
To try to make the best of the situation, as many people do when faced with change, my mom and I both joked about the new move. Perhaps when we crossed the California state line we both would become blonde beach body bombshells. It was a running joke as we drove through Nevada. We counted down the miles to our transformations. Then we finally crossed the invisible division in the Sierra Nevada mountain range, and looked at each other. Nothing. It didn't happen. We laughed it off and kept on driving and talked about the possibilities of new adventures that awaited us in this new state. The places we could visit and the sights that we could see. It helped temper the nervousness, at least until school started.
Then on move #8 from California to Illinois, three years later, the sadness of leaving all my high school friends and adolescent security for the unknown of college 2,029.91 miles away was extremely difficult. There were no jokes that could ease the pain. It was heart aching to leave all the adventures. Very strong attachments were made that I wasn't ready to release. I already had plans of playing softball at a local community college, and was registered for classes when we got the news on Valentine's day of 1991 that we were moving again. There was no box of chocolates big enough to help mend my heart.
However, move again is what we did. I say 'we' because for me, I was not alone. I was part of the "Frisbee Fantastic Four", and we did all things moving together. The good, the bad, the Cowboy Hall of Fame. We were each other's comfort and support. And we talked about how moving offers new opportunities for a fresh clean slate to try new things and meet new people. It was the motto that I unconsciously adopted which was my survival mechanism in a world of constant change.
Change is hard. It is never easy when it comes to things sensitive to the heart. It is especially hard when you have settled into what you think is going to be your place, have nestled down, and made it your own. Compound that with having the changing factor out of your control and it makes for the perfect storm for many people. It is overwhelming and scary, filled with sleepless nights of how everything is going to get done. It can rock you to the core in terms of a sense of security of all things that one has come to love and hold dear.
But we all have a choice when confronted with change. That is what is wonderful about free will. We have the choice as to the path we take to greet the new change. Or for some, they choose to not take a path at all, and instead crawl under a rock. I got some news yesterday that gave me this choice.
After being in the same building, teaching the same grade for the last 16 years, I was told I was moving. It is not any fault of my own. I did nothing wrong. It is simply a restructuring of our district. Having said that however, it was still quite a shock. It pulled the proverbial rug out from under me. All the expectations I had of what this year would look like were gone. All the comfort I had in knowing where I was going, who I would be working with, and what my year would look like was gone. But the question is, was it really ever there in the first place?
We humans, and control freaks like myself, may think that we control the reins in our lives. But really we don't. Change is unbiased. It happens, everyday. It is just like the big hand and the little hand, marching on toward another round. Truly, the only thing we have control over is how we react, adapt, or interact with what comes our way. That is the choice we have. Optimism or Pessimism. Half full or half empty. Lemons or Lemonade. Tears or triumph. A new path or a rock.
There were tears yesterday, but today is a new day. Today is the day that I box up my tools and move to a new workshop because really it doesn't matter where I do my craft. And teaching really is a craft to be honed. The important thing is that in two short weeks I will have a new crop of kids to add to 1,000 I have already taught over my 17 years. These students, who I will treat and support as my own, need me. It doesn't matter where I am teaching, it matters what. The "what" is the most important part. I want them to find their voice, and write what matters to them, and to understand that life is ever changing.
We can't stop that, but we can decide how to ride the ride. Either with eyes wide open and enjoying the scenery, or with eyes clasped shut, the ride is happening. For me, I choose to put my hands in the air and enjoy this roller coaster of a life. Because if life is really all about the journey, what kind of journey would it be if we always stayed where we have always been? Not really a lot to look at. I want a better view. A more scenic one with some halls of fame along the way, and maybe the world's largest ball of twine too.
--K
The thing is, for the longest time my world revolved around change. It wasn't always easy, and there were a lot of tears. On move #6, from Ohio to California, I barely spoke a word the first couple of days on our cross country road trip. My parents tried their best to make it interesting by stopping by such exciting teen destinations as "The Cowboy Hall of Fame" and we might have seen the world's biggest ball of wax. Okay so maybe that is a bit of an exaggeration. But we did see the hall of fame. My dad was in his glory, me not so much.
It didn't help that I was going to have to start tenth grade after the school year had already started and be "the new girl" without the benefit of meeting new people during summer. For the record, this is a mortifying experience for most kids. As a teacher now, I see those kids who come during the middle of the year. My heart understands their trepidation and fear. Will I fit in? Where will I sit at lunch? I always make sure to treat these students with tenderness. It is a crucial time. They are fragile and vulnerable.
To try to make the best of the situation, as many people do when faced with change, my mom and I both joked about the new move. Perhaps when we crossed the California state line we both would become blonde beach body bombshells. It was a running joke as we drove through Nevada. We counted down the miles to our transformations. Then we finally crossed the invisible division in the Sierra Nevada mountain range, and looked at each other. Nothing. It didn't happen. We laughed it off and kept on driving and talked about the possibilities of new adventures that awaited us in this new state. The places we could visit and the sights that we could see. It helped temper the nervousness, at least until school started.
Then on move #8 from California to Illinois, three years later, the sadness of leaving all my high school friends and adolescent security for the unknown of college 2,029.91 miles away was extremely difficult. There were no jokes that could ease the pain. It was heart aching to leave all the adventures. Very strong attachments were made that I wasn't ready to release. I already had plans of playing softball at a local community college, and was registered for classes when we got the news on Valentine's day of 1991 that we were moving again. There was no box of chocolates big enough to help mend my heart.
However, move again is what we did. I say 'we' because for me, I was not alone. I was part of the "Frisbee Fantastic Four", and we did all things moving together. The good, the bad, the Cowboy Hall of Fame. We were each other's comfort and support. And we talked about how moving offers new opportunities for a fresh clean slate to try new things and meet new people. It was the motto that I unconsciously adopted which was my survival mechanism in a world of constant change.
Change is hard. It is never easy when it comes to things sensitive to the heart. It is especially hard when you have settled into what you think is going to be your place, have nestled down, and made it your own. Compound that with having the changing factor out of your control and it makes for the perfect storm for many people. It is overwhelming and scary, filled with sleepless nights of how everything is going to get done. It can rock you to the core in terms of a sense of security of all things that one has come to love and hold dear.
But we all have a choice when confronted with change. That is what is wonderful about free will. We have the choice as to the path we take to greet the new change. Or for some, they choose to not take a path at all, and instead crawl under a rock. I got some news yesterday that gave me this choice.
After being in the same building, teaching the same grade for the last 16 years, I was told I was moving. It is not any fault of my own. I did nothing wrong. It is simply a restructuring of our district. Having said that however, it was still quite a shock. It pulled the proverbial rug out from under me. All the expectations I had of what this year would look like were gone. All the comfort I had in knowing where I was going, who I would be working with, and what my year would look like was gone. But the question is, was it really ever there in the first place?
We humans, and control freaks like myself, may think that we control the reins in our lives. But really we don't. Change is unbiased. It happens, everyday. It is just like the big hand and the little hand, marching on toward another round. Truly, the only thing we have control over is how we react, adapt, or interact with what comes our way. That is the choice we have. Optimism or Pessimism. Half full or half empty. Lemons or Lemonade. Tears or triumph. A new path or a rock.
There were tears yesterday, but today is a new day. Today is the day that I box up my tools and move to a new workshop because really it doesn't matter where I do my craft. And teaching really is a craft to be honed. The important thing is that in two short weeks I will have a new crop of kids to add to 1,000 I have already taught over my 17 years. These students, who I will treat and support as my own, need me. It doesn't matter where I am teaching, it matters what. The "what" is the most important part. I want them to find their voice, and write what matters to them, and to understand that life is ever changing.
We can't stop that, but we can decide how to ride the ride. Either with eyes wide open and enjoying the scenery, or with eyes clasped shut, the ride is happening. For me, I choose to put my hands in the air and enjoy this roller coaster of a life. Because if life is really all about the journey, what kind of journey would it be if we always stayed where we have always been? Not really a lot to look at. I want a better view. A more scenic one with some halls of fame along the way, and maybe the world's largest ball of twine too.
--K
Nice post Kristen. Very thoughtful and I love the positive outlook you gave. It is so wonderful to know, that in this world full of change, our unchanging God walks through it with us. Praying for you in the transition.
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