JOY AND WOE ARE WOVEN FINE

orangetulips

Early Friday morning, I learned that my son’s class teacher will be stepping down at the end of this year. This is devastating news as she is both a brilliant educator and a remarkable lady. Emet loved her from the moment they first met, a few days before third grade began. She has been a bright light in his journey through his Waldorf education, and while we will miss her deeply, we are comforted by the fact that the person whom the faculty has selected to take the class through middle school is another beloved teacher at our school.

Still, there is sadness. Having to send my tender hearted eleven year old off to class knowing the news he was about to receive from his dear teacher was not an easy way to begin the day, that is for sure.

One of the reasons she, his teacher, gave to us parents as to her departure was that she has found it increasingly difficult to strike a harmonious work/life balance. I couldn’t agree more with her sentiment, it is the very reason why I choose to remain in a supporting role at our school as opposed to a full-time faculty member. I have been a lead teacher, and it is consuming. My heart goes out to her, it really does.

There is a great lesson in this for my son, one that I hope he’ll come to with time. You see, we’ve moved around a lot, having been to five different Waldorf schools. Emet has been “the new kid” nearly every year of his academic career. For the first time in his life, he is the one staying, not the one leaving. This is an opportunity for him to gain a tremendous amount of perspective, but it is not for me to tell him that. He must arrive at his own truth, in his own way, whenever it is that he’s ready to do so. In the meantime, I’ll be here to listen to his worries and to remind him how lucky he’s been to have had these last three years with such a wonderful person as his guide. In a way, it will be his first broken heart, for he truly does love her. Which is exactly how it’s supposed to be in a Waldorf school.

In her email to us parents, our lovely class teacher so wisely reminded us that “the children will look to us adults for cues on how to process this. We want them to understand that change is a part of life, not something catastrophic or unmanageable. When we say goodbye to the past, we welcome the future. All will be well.”

And that’s just it, really. Change is simply another word for evolution, and we should all be so lucky as to evolve. Granted, that doesn’t make it any easier, awareness doesn’t soften the lump that lodged itself in my throat the moment I first read her poignant letter. But it does somehow make the pain seem purposeful, that the tears I’m shedding are really just my heart’s way of making room for what is to come.

When I picked the kids up from school later that day, I brought along with me a simple bouquet of tulips for each of the fine teachers that are currently carrying this class, one of them holding their past, the other their future.

As we pulled into the parking lot, I spotted his new teacher, who happens to be someone with whom I already have a friendly personal relationship outside of our colleagueship. I called her over to my car and handed her the flowers, telling her that I love her and I’m grateful to her for being willing to step in to such an important position. Truly, I do think that there couldn’t be a better person for the job. She is magnificent.

I made my way over Emet on the aftercare yard, after being showered with lots of love from many of my precious first graders who were playing in the sandbox and swing set, where he was immersed in a game of Kendama though the solemnity of the day was apparent. I told him I had something for him to give his beloved teacher, and tears welled up in his eyes. We walked to the car, after gathering ourselves and our things, and then headed to his fifth grade classroom, where we found his sweet teacher tidying up the room.

I’m glad we were able to share a few quiet moments together, honoring her and the carefully considered decision she has made to move on from teaching. And while our hearts are heavy with the burden of her imminent departure, we fondly bid her farewell with gratitude for the many gifts she has given all of us – her students and their parents alike – lessons which will serve us in whatever it is the future may bring. I can only hope that she finds whatever it is that she seeks, for she deserves every happiness her golden heart desires.

Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine,
Under every grief and pine,
Runs a joy of silken twine.

It is right, it must be so,
Man was made for joy and woe.
And if this we rightly know,
Through the world we safely go.

William Blake

TWO

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I’m going to be come right out and say it, the second month was hard. Weeks on end of irregular and interrupted sleep wreaked havoc on my nervous system, and it manifested as good old fashioned anxiety with a smattering of depression. Also, high blood pressure and I never have high blood pressure. Except for that one time during labor, and this is where I tell you that the birth story, and all of its gory – literally, gory – details, is forthcoming, but that it might take me a while. I mean, it only took me ten years to write the story of my first birth! But I digress!

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Week Seven just about knocked me flat on my back, and I spent all day, every day in bed. This baby of mine, he needs me. Needs me in a way my other two never really did, those two have always been so independent and extroverted. Not this baby. He wants to be held all of the time, and eat all of the time, and to quietly observe our family while perched upon either his father’s shoulder, or mine. He missed out on an entire month of time in utero, it makes perfect sense as to why he wants to spend so much time snuggled up to one of us, but that doesn’t make it any easier. It does, however, make it necessary, which is why I had to make the difficult decision to extend my maternity leave until the Fall.

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Ugh! The guilt! Once I finally accepted that as much as I want to, I can’t actually do everything – including being a handwork teacher while carrying an infant – I got a little bit excited about getting to spend these next few months at home.

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This tiny guy, well, he’s not so tiny these days. In fact, he officially grown out of his preemie clothes and is fitting nicely into the newborn size. We’ve used an Honest Co. diaper bundle this last month, and we’re going to continue for another month, but in the next size up. And because he’s eating and growing as well as he is, we’re actually starting to get a little sleep around here, about four to five solid hours at least once a night. Life changing.

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He’s still not the most interested in people or things, but he has started to discover his voice and the sounds he makes are a cross between Gizmo, deflating balloons, and choirs of angels. Just perfect.

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Adjusting to life with a new baby is accepting that everything is in constant transition, this is as true for the first time as it is for the third. There are just more variables, like school days and baseball practice, which only add to the chaos. But it’s all chaos, so what’s the difference? We’re figuring it out as we go, one day at a time, and so far, we’re doing pretty darn well. We hit the ground sprinting, and are just starting to find a more comfortable pace.

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Oh Huckle, my Huckle! I knew you were going to be a cute baby, but the cutest baby? You are the spitting image of your father when he was a baby, and aren’t you lucky because he is one handsome fellow. In the night, when you are hungry, you whimper so sweetly that I can’t help but be happy to scoop you up into my arms and give you milk, your favorite thing on Earth. I’m lucky to be the one who gets to nourish and sustain you, and those moments are some of my most favorite. You have made the most perfect addition to our family, even better than the bunny I wanted. I mean, I still want the bunny, but now the bunny will be for you! When we get the bunny, that is. Maybe next Easter, wink wink?