There's nothing like a trip down memory lane to either make you nostalgic or make you want to kick your former self's ass... I've been going through a combo as people from my past have been popping up with the "Hey! How've you been? Remember when...?"
Been having some "yikes" moments over some of my antics. I am the first to admit to my nerdiness, my general awkwardness in social situations, that I will open my mouth to spout poetry and end up with something that sounds remotely like Klingon...lol. Sheesh - this is why I write. You've got spell check and the delete button. In real life, talking to people - not so much.
I actually had a new-old friend take it back to middle school for me. If you knew me in middle school, you're probably giggling right now. Remembering the thick coke-bottle glasses, hand-me-down clothes I tried desperately to make trendy, the stars in my eyes over just about every boy in school, the whoppers I told (like that I had a twin who went to a different school - and I actually pulled that one off for a few weeks!). Playing matchmaker, daydreaming in science class, singing in Prism choir, holding torrid affairs entirely in my head with various members of the Jazz Band...
Not exactly what this evolving woman wants to be reminded of.
I think this is part of the reason I chose to teach middle school - because I'm not too far from the awkward girl I was, tripping over herself, consistently mortified, still holding torrid affairs with various people completely in my head :). I understand the animal that a pre-teen is...and I understand how big of a difference it makes to know that, despite your awkward crazy hormone-driven madness, somebody still smiles for you every day.
I love all of my students - present-tense. I may not teach anymore, I may not always immediately remember their names when I see them - but I still love them all. And sometimes I think that is why I was good at what I did. My love was solid, constant. Yes I definitely wanted to strangle a couple of them, knock their heads together, shake them and say "do you realize what a spaz you are?" But the thing is...it never changed how I felt. I still feel it everytime I walk into an old school and see them. I still get the urge to want to teach them something.
When I drive out early to yoga class and I see kids waiting at the bus stop, I smile because I remember being like them. Especially on the first day of school. Nervous about everything. Excited. It was the reinvention, the anticipation of what and who I could create out of myself that year...
I think I brought this subject up because when I reminisce with old friends I think about who and what I am creating out of myself this year. When January 1st rolled around, I was by myself in my bathroom, all made up with nowhere to go, no one to kiss for the first time in over 12 years. I was uncertain about what exactly I was looking at, but I knew that everything was going to get different. Already I had felt a change in myself. I had stopped spending my nights crying out my loneliness. I looked in the mirror and I knew I wanted to save that girl. She was familiar to me... but I said to myself "This. Whatever this is, this sadness, this fear, this floundering feeling. This is NOT the end of your story. It's the beginning. Whatever becomes of you from here is of your own making...so cheer the fuck up."
Made the decision to move forward, to embrace my past but to keep it firmly there. Two days later, I cemented that decision with action. At the time I wasn't sure what exactly would be the casualty of my decision, but now that I know - it was worth it.
I love the girl I was. She may have been a spaz, but she had potential...even way back then. I can go even further back... first day of kindergarten. I was more intrigued then scared. I remember that even my mom looked a bit teary-eyed, along with the other random kids kicking and screaming about not wanting to go. What did I do?
Walked in (I was wearing a first-day of school dress, little white socks with lace on the edge, Mary Jane shoes), sat down at a desk quite primly, and crossed my legs like a lady. When I spoke to my kindergarten teacher years later, she still chuckled about what I said when she asked my name. Clear as you please "Miss Latoya Moore". And apparently I was looking around with a combination of fascination and disgust... even then. Even so very long ago I was able to create for myself exactly what I needed to progress.
I expect to make missteps. I expect to do the wrong thing. But I will be damned if I'm going to beat myself up over it. Especially as I feel I am on the right path...and every day I fall a little bit more in love with the girl I am becoming...
A change really will do you good. :)
Diakatra!!!
-Asha
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