Some days I’m tired. Tired of remodels that need to be remodeled again to get them right. Tired of sitting down at the keyboard and battling the editor. Tired of that huge gap between what I can imagine and what I can bring about on terra firma. Yesterday, I came home with nothing but heavy fog for a future, visions on interminable years of reminding 10 year olds to push in their chairs and put titles on their wobbly hand drawn bar graphs depicting fake data that no one gives a rat’s ass about. Endless days of coming home, with nothing more than a head full of the lives of other people’s children. I even said the words, I’m not getting satisfaction from my job.
So I go to work today. Before I even get in the door, I run into the Speech Path’s assistance whose kid I had a couple of years ago and she says, “Oh Christie, I want you to meet my boyfriend!”. She brings over the guy who’s subbing for our band teacher and introduced me as “the woman whose still her son’s favorite teacher” and proceeds to tell me all about how her son – now in high school – still deciphers complex vocabulary using the Greek and Latin roots I taught him.
Gee, is that the Universe talking? Trying to tell me something?
I’m not in my room more than 10 minutes when a former student pokes his head in the door and says, “I just found out something and I wanted to tell you first. I got into the college of my choice.” Needless to say, I hug him and frankly, I’m floored. This kid – who is now a 6 foot plus, sweet and goofy young man – used to hide beneath his desk and cry during math. He used to scream “I hate you” from beneath said desk. He came to 5th grade camp with us and dug up a dead plant, carrying it beneath his arm for the week, insistent that he would take it home and bring it back to life.
Now he says a gracious hello to me every time he sees me on campus and volunteers in a first grade classroom teaching art. And he came to tell me that he’s going to college. To be come an elementary school teacher. Seriously.
Okay Universe, I get it. I mean, you could write it out on a little slip of paper and it would only be slightly clearer, but this is pretty good.
And then I remember. Last week, when we broke down and got crappy Chinese food for dinner, I cracked open my mass-produced fortune cookie and it reads: “You will find your lost treasure within the month”.
Crap, Universe, just hammer it home, why don’t you?
And as if that weren’t clear enough, I find out today that two of my favorite poems are getting their day. One today, on damselflypress and the other this fall in Poetry Quarterly.
Apparently, I’m good at two things. There are sun breaks in the fog. If only there were a fortune cookie saying that could keep that knowledge from getting lost again.
Or maybe just a nail gun.