Growing up Gratitude

I am sitting on my phone, typing, typing, typing. The Macy’s Parade drones on in the background. My family is just getting up and making their way to the kitchen, the center of the home. My sister swats at my hands, indicating that I need to get off of my phone.

Thanksgiving morning, has been for a few years now, a time that I allow myself to reflect and be truly thankful for the people in my life. I send a message telling them directly that I am thankful that they are in my life and exactly what I am so thankful for. I do this sometimes as much for the receiver as for myself. In the end, I realize just how much I have to be grateful for.

Having moved last year to a new state, a new region of the country, and feeling very isolated from a life that I had grown in California, this Thanksgiving morning was one that had a lot of importance. Who was I thankful for? It was not so much the handful that I had clung to last year at this time, those that I hung onto for support through some of the most trying months of my life to date. No. This year, I saw who stuck around and still supported me, believed in me, was proud of me, etc. when things started to change. I was seen as the one who needed extra help, the one who just wasn’t getting it naturally. How things changed as I did. I noticed that there were some people that I was not in contact with anymore this Thanksgiving. This happens, and had happened in years prior. Having a yearly checkin serves to really reflect on who I keep and who does not stay in my life.

This is not me finger-pointing in the slightest, but  a celebration of those that have remained or gravitated into my life – and and even more importantly a deep gratitude to those that have. It is also a growing up lesson for myself. I don’t have to keep people around just because they were there before or had been of significance at a different period of my life. We drift apart and grow together for a reason. These are not to be ignored.

Who we are is so much shaped by those that we keep close to us and sometime even more so by those that we choose not to. Those that I keep close and connect with are important to me for a variety of reasons. I am very conscious of these facts. I strive to keep my body and mind strong, alert, growing, and bettering myself. So thank you to those that have allowed me, aided me, and forgiven those times in which even I have not made the choices I should have to do so. I am grateful for you.

Monday Morning

I walk into my classroom on Monday morning, a bit more tired than planned and yet suddenly find calm. A feeling I had hoped I could build for my kids. The walls are adorned with posters I’ve made for each lesson, each colored bright and neat with arrows and numbers and a teacher’s penmanship. The window curtains just so slightly block out the morning sun as it peaks over the roof tops. I am exhausted and yet in being in this home we have built, I am energized.

I look at my kids as they walk in. Their faces are more than familiar. These faces are of those humans in this world that I love the most. D’s smile in line each morning can turn shadows and rainclouds into a near eclipse with the sun.

What is different about this year in comparison to the last? Is it confidence? Is it significantly more planning? Is it support that I am getting? Is it validation from a coach that believes in me? Is it finding my footing? Is it ease with the curriculum? Is is a supportive group of people around me? Is it the kids? Is it me? Though I can tell you easily that it is not some of these things and it is others in combination, it is not just one or none or all. One that I can be certain has changed is me.

I was sunk in a low place last year. These same kids saw me at my worst and knew me to be this teacher that struggled and could not plan a lesson to save our lives. This same kid with a beaming smile each morning is the same that once intentionally broke my pencils on the side of the desk and got up and walked around the classroom. It is a sense of finding out who I am as a teacher. I knew who I was, who I am, but that changes when you are expected to be someone for 85 students daily. There is no place to hide when you are tired, when you are sad or hurting.

After running away to Southeast Asia this summer, I remembered how independent I am, the stories my body could tell, the sacrifices I’ve made, the hours of studying I’ve spent, the miles I’ve traversed to get me here. How could I let little things stop me now? I read, I planned, I found a new sense of confidence in the new year even when again dealt a bad hand.

Monday morning, my children walk into the room:

“GOOD MORNING 216, WOLFPACK!”

“GOOD MORNING MS. GINI!”

Yes, they voted to be called Wolfpack as their team name. We sing, we learn, we recite, we read, we share, we discuss, we draw – together. We cry, we whisper, we write, we talk – together. We problem solve, we are honest, we give feedback, we sometimes hurt – together. We listen, we work, we grow – together. We are a team this year, and I feel it – and this Monday, I am more convinced than ever that they feel it, too.