Someone wise once told me to never say never. I think I was about 8 years old or so, and I said, "I'll never work in a fast-food restaurant." I worked for my father until I was 16 or so... when I struck out to get a job on my own. Guess what it was? (That's a rhetorical question for the sake of cynicism.)
Another never, it seems, is coming to a rather fruitful reality. It's hard to think that, the more effort we output to controlling our own lives... the more we avoid fatalism... the less control we actually feel. About a year ago, I went to visit my 8th Grade English teacher in her classroom back in my home berg of Buckeye. She meant an incredible amount to me as a teacher back in the day, and has remarkably meant a great deal to me as an adult friend, too. So, I have always viewed her advice and experience as valuable tools. Going there was a healing journey, really. My student teaching experience was not a good one. C'est la vie.
"Jokingly" as I left that day of my visit, I was "offered" a job by two different people. I put no serious thought into it. After all, I would never move back to Buckeye. Or anywhere even remotely related to the Valley of my youth.
Pesky nevers. They always come around and bite me. Nasty bitey biters and their biting.
How does one begin to summarize so many events of ill favor. Let's try this: 2008 has sucked big hairy monkey nuts for Tracey and me. Sorry for the image, but it's true. I won't go over it all here, just know that death, poverty and other general misfortune have hung heavy like acid clouds above our heads. We thought that Flagstaff might be just the ticket. Alas, we made a poor choice. We miss our home in Tucson. We miss our friends. We miss the simply pleasure of the fact that we chose it ourselves, for ourselves, and for no greater reason than making a decision for our collective wants. Unfortunately, Tucson may be too far behind us now for a return. Our move to Flagstaff -for comparative purposes- was not the same. We moved here reluctantly for the promise of better things for our child. Ouch.
We are making a choice again. We have a plan... and we have goals. I accepted a very real, non-joking, offer to go back to Buckeye and teach with the very aforementioned 8th Grade teacher that meant so much to me. It is an opportunity, as I see it, to gobble up some valuable mentoring in a district that is growing quickly and will make good use of my passion and excitement. That means, if you didn't put all the pieces together, that we are moving yet again. This time to the lands of my rapscallion past.
I hope I don't have to write another post like this.
Thanks to everyone, sincerely, that has sent kind words and thoughts. Tracey and I feel very fortunate to have such wonderful people supporting us and thinking of us. We have felt it, and it was good. Thank you.
Love to all,
Fall birthday craft project
1 year ago