Arms out, Core Tight and Go

My desk is a mess.  Minutes quickly fade to hours.  I’m hungry and I don’t want another peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the closet.  It’s getting dark- no, it’s been dark for a while now.  The rain won’t stop.  And yet, here I sit, staring at my computer screen filled with pumpkin clipart options.  Which one do I choose?  WHICH ONE?!  It is the most insignificant question I have faced all week and somehow 20 minutes has passed...and I’m staring.  This is it.  This is my brain turning to mush. 

  

This is not me.  I did not draw this.  But it speaks to me.

Being in my second year of teaching a self-contained special education classroom for students with behavioral needs – mush brain is quite familiar.  Symptoms of mush brain include blank stares, lost items, forgotten appointments, delirium, fatigue and a loosening grip on reality. 

September is always a circus act.  I am in high speed from the moment I stare the snooze button down until I come careening through my apartment door, second coffee in hand, numerous (probably unnecessarily filled) bags, shoes (??), recently purchased anonymous school supplies and an “I’m staaaarrrrrving!” at Derek who is already preparing to feed me.  I feel good, I’m caffeinated, I’m in motion, Maggie May greets me, Derek is home, I crack a beer or pour a glass of wine…and then it happens.  The relaxing quickly turns to the sleeping.  I’m done…eyes heavy, body sore and tired, and caffeine crash commenced, I mutter goodnight and head-heavy like an oversized toddler, I bounce off doorways and cabinets to bed. 

This is also not me.  Nor was it ever me.  But it is a head-heavy toddler. 

Sometimes I force the climbing gym upon my schedule and manage to peel off plastic jugs and groan my way up easy routes but I am not climber Lauren.  I am teacher Lauren. 

Once October rolls around I try to transition to a balancing act.  I start to find little ways to introduce the balance.  Dirtbag Diaries turns the 50-minute commute to and from work in to a deep breath.  I don’t hate the commute.  I enjoy my black coffee, banana and the words of all of the people who remind me that I am still connected – they are still out there, living and doing the things that I live and work for – and that allows me to relax in knowing that I will do the same again.  I enjoy the 50 minutes of listening, daydreaming, reliving and mentally planning climber Lauren's revival.

Then Miss Beaudoin walks in to Room 29 and switches ON, Full Volume, High Speed.  I don’t sit.  I stand, walk…or run.  I talk, I teach, I decide “yes”, “no”, “what?!”, I direct and redirect and redirect and redirect and…redirect, you get it.  If I had a soundtrack it would most likely be of the dance-aerobic genre. 

Again, not me.  And I am thankful.

But I’ve even found a way to sneak some balance in to the classroom.  We do yoga.  Go ahead…picture it.  Eight students, 3 girls, 5 boys, third and fourth grade, who can’t sit still or quiet for more than 1.3 minutes…in Warrior 2 pose.  They are breathing in and out and pressing their hands together to say “Sir Sensei”.  I taught them “Namaste”.  They hear what they want to hear (see above description of job).  Climber Lauren guides students through downward dog, plank and boat pose.

Then weekend-warrior-Lauren emerges, desperately trying to carve out time to tramp around the hills, cliffs and mountains of New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Vermont, New York, Maine and Connecticut.  Then most Sunday nights look like the ugly transition they are; unpack car, dig half-clean work clothes out of bags, hampers and drawers, unpack draws and headlamps and Keenes, repack gym gear in high hopes for a weeknight or two.  I’m usually exhausted, going to bed dirty and very aware that I will wake up tired, disorganized and fumbling around my apartment for snacks that add up to a lunch, wrinkled clothes and coffee on the road.

Jordan, a fellow weekend warrior, crushing Romancing the Stone at Rumney

This year, I am fumbling for this balance with much more grace.  The month on the road this summer has fueled me with more passion, determination and positivity than ever before.  I feel the lingering health I acquired by living so simply, freely and passionately.  I feel like there is a damn carrot on a stick.  I will have to work hard and be patient before I get my hands on it, but it’s there, and that is pumping me full of drive and purpose that wasn’t there before. 

I want to teach my heart out.  I want to climb my heart out.  I want to live fully and aggressively and balance both of my passions.  I will need podcasts, loud music, puppy play, Derek-dates, wine nights, gym sessions, classroom yoga, family festivities, my fellow weekend warriors, and lots and lots of coffee to do it, but I am confident I will make it to June.  At least…to June…  

I leave you with this...