Setting Sail

The blue sky is the perfect replica of the lake this morning, the horizon line lost from my view.  The birds are loud, and the little kids on the playground even more so. This is the kind of spring day I was made for.   The chirping warmth of the blue sky, the promise of blossoms turning to full-fledged beauty, and the tiny voice inside my heart that says anything is possible.

And so it goes. Anything is about to be possible. For the past 11 years, I have breathed in this lake view, these junior high students, these countless essays and lessons and moments. And now it is time to go. Albert Einstein said, “A ship is always safe at the shore – but that is NOT what it is built for.” I understand this sentiment, and I am ready to put his theory to the test.  This week I signed a contract to teach AP Literature and junior American Literature at Elyria Catholic High School.  This morning I am watching a freighter filled with rocks float by on the lake, and it helps me to cement the decision to move, to sail away from the comfort of the shore.

Some people think I’m nuts for leaving the safety of a job I know so well, these dear people that I call my friends, and the routine that is ingrained in my muscle memory.  But I am ready.  I’m not always the most adventurous, but this decision seems rock solid wonderful to me.

Only slightly masochistic, I know my new job will be harder. There are nine novels lined up on my bookshelf for the first quarter alone.  And the high school students come with their own set of angst and technology and neediness. They can also drive away! A lot has changed in the time I have been gone.

I will also miss my friends. You don’t have the all-in personality I have and work somewhere for 11 years without getting attached. These people have seen me through births and deaths and everything in between. They have saved my life and my soul and my sanity. I will not take that parting easily.  

And there is something about this lake view that has buoyed me as well. The Panther football field outside my new window will not quite suffice.

I am leaving my kids behind. I know they will be well-loved, and I am happy for them to spread their wings without my shadow at the end of the hall. (It is hard to be a free range parent when you work twenty yards away.) And every seventh grade girl deserves to navigate the rough seas of junior high without her mother at the front of the class. For that I am most grateful.

As I sit here on the brink, I appreciate the freedom of my choice. I am thankful for the lessons learned here, the pieces of these students I will carry with me. I wonder at the blurred horizon; but I’m content with knowing that 20/20 vision of the future is impossible.

The day I got offered the job, still reeling and amazed by the new fork in my path, I left EC and turned on the car radio to hear the song “Say Geronimo.” Such a perfect moment of clarity and expectancy that afternoon, and I feel even more certain of my decision today. I CAN make this leap, and anything is truly possible.