Today, I think I’m going to depart a little from my usual high school literacy focus to reflect on my own recent experiences as a reader and a writer. It might seem a little bit strange, but it’s authentic. Because one thing I’ve learned over the past six weeks or so that sometimes being a reader and writer means that you aren’t.
I’m going to be very honest. The past six months have been the most difficult personal and professional months I have had in a very long time–maybe ever. At work, I have been absolutely pushed to the limit at times, and while I have probably learned the most I’ve ever learned, it simply hasn’t been an easy road. In the background of all that, I have been struggling with some very deep personal hurt that just isn’t going away. All of this has been intensifying over the past six weeks or so, and it all came to a head on Thursday.
I’m not sharing this information so that you’ll feel sorry for me. Not at all. I’m sharing this because these moments in our lives are a reality for all of us, and they’re a reality for the kids that we see each day.
And I’m going to be honest right now. Being in this funk made me completely uninspired, which has resulted in the following:
1. Lots of tears (and I’m not a crier)
2. Moody behavior (sorry, Jeff)
3. The desire to watch the entire seasons of Sister Wives and Millionaire Matchmaker on my DVR in my free time instead of reading or writing a word of text.
And I’ve felt completely ashamed. I mean, how could I talk to teachers about the importance of living as readers and writers when I wasn’t?
Over the past couple of days, though, I realized that, in a way, I was. I mean, I knew that my gloomy mood was keeping me from being inspired to read or write. I knew the darkness was choking me. I can’t tell you how many times I have tried to write a blog post in the past few weeks and just couldn’t force out more than a few lines.
So what changed? Certainly, the pain really hasn’t gone away–and it probably won’t for a while. It actually took one of my teacher colleagues looking at me straight in the eye, sitting down at the conference table in our office, and saying, “Nicole, I’m really worried about you. Will you please tell me what’s going on?” And I did. I told her the general idea of what had been happening for the past several months, and I sobbed with the door shut. She listened without judgement and let me cry. Then she said, “Maybe you need to write about it.”
Of course, she didn’t mean blog for the whole world to see, but why shouldn’t I?
The thing about living as a writer is that this life is inextricably linked to every other daily experience I have. I gather inspiration for my writing from everything that happens to me. Sometimes, my ideas are sparked by conversations with my colleagues, sometimes by a Tweet, sometimes by a book I’ve read, sometimes by a video or picture someone posts on Facebook or e-mails me. But while living in a dark place, I haven’t been able to escape my head long enough to form a coherent thought about anything else.
What my teacher colleague reminded me, though, is that writing is sometimes the only way out.
And maybe without even realizing it, she also reminded me that teaching can be a lonely profession if we let it–and we shouldn’t let it. I had allowed myself to become lonely, and it took her persistence to encourage me to connect with the world again.
So when doing the hard and complex work of teaching kids, maybe we need to remember these things:
Writing and reading vaccums happen. They are a natural part of the process when writing and reading are deep in the marrow. It doesn’t mean that the writers or readers are lazy or unmotivated (though I have felt both lazy and unmotivated lately). It may mean that they need someone to say just the right words.
Teaching can be intensely isolating. Resist the urge to be lonely. Find your network, and let them support you when things get hard. I am lucky to share an office every day with three thoughtful, kind teachers and to have an even larger extended community of educators that pull me out of the most complicated days with their dedication, their humor, and their friendship.
But above all, it is important to remember that there is no greater freedom in the world than being able to put pen to paper and untrap your thoughts.
Thank you, L, for this reminder.