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And Now For Something Completely Different

May 21, 2012 By 5 Comments

A digression from my vacation into imaginary life paths (not taken, which I feel I should state, again, because I keep getting emails asking me when I quit teaching and opened a bakery, which I did not do)…

I have spent enough time in education to have come across many adults who work well with kids – who intuit their needs and meet them where they are.   I could go on and on about the countless teachers and coaches and mentors who reach kids in amazing ways that can’t be mimicked or taught.  Sometimes, though, I encounter someone who is one of those people I think of as magic, or a sort of angel…and this from one of the least conventionally spiritual people you’ll ever meet.

My son takes guitar lessons, bass guitar lessons to be precise.  His teacher is a professional musician who supplements his income teaching (and painting houses, and probably a bunch of other ways that I don’t know about because he’s just that kind of dude).   Yesterday was the first annual Guitar Show, performed by all of the students who take lessons from my son’s teacher, complete with back up musicians and technical support from local pros.

I have written before about my fascination with the concept of flow and how much I love it when people get all wrapped up in what they love to do, but I will tell you what…there is nothing so beautiful as the face of a child feeling proud of himself (or herself).  And yesterday at this guitar show, there was beauty all over the damn place.   For the most part, and I include my own kid in this description, these kids looked a little, um, shall we say, gobsmacked, when they got up on stage in front of 150 people to perform, but within minutes and with the exuberant encouragement of their beloved teacher, they relaxed into their rocker roles with style and grace. 

The absolute best part, though?  Not the great music, not the sense of accomplishment, not the glow from proud parents and friends, but the unmistakable joy radiating from this teacher.  I don’t know the last time I saw someone so deeply invested in his people and their learning and their own success.  He made magic, and every person in that room felt it.   He kept thanking us for coming, but he got it all backwards.  We were so lucky to be there.

 

Filed Under: Facts of Life

Fork in the Road

May 18, 2012 By 9 Comments

Or possibly a spatula.

It took almost a year, but I finally adjusted my internal clock so that waking up at 3:30 in the morning isn’t quite as painful as it used to be.  The routine before I leave the house is the same every day, and I execute it in near silence so as not to disturb any of the still-sleeping family; the dog doesn’t even do more than twitch or sigh anymore when I tiptoe past her into the kitchen.  I slip on my clothes, brush my teeth in the bathroom, splash some water on my face, write my morning note to the kids, grab my bag and keys and am out the door in less than 15 minutes.  Sometimes 10.

It takes me about five minutes to get to the store, and I’m still creeped out by the darkness of the alley where I park, but I also am still thrilled by being the person who turns on the lights when I unlock the door and go inside. 

It was a dream for many years to have a bakery, right there on the main street of this little town, two blocks down from the elementary school.  When I finally got the nerve to give it a go, let alone the funding and support, I had been planning on treats – cookies, cakes, sweet things, and kids stopping by on the way home from school in the afternoons.  I hadn’t anticipated the demand for breads and rolls from the restaurants in town, and I have struggled to find the right balance here in this small business of mine.  I am not, by nature, a businessperson.  I just like to bake and to feed people things that please them. 

I fire up the coffeemaker and pull apart a  cinnamon roll leftover from yesterday.  Then I start, so that by the time the sun comes up, the store and air outside it is warm with the smells of flour and yeast and sugar and butter, and I am well on my way to having cases full of things to feed people that please them. Which pleases me.  So we all win, don’t we?

Filed Under: I Just Make Most of This Up Tagged With:

Sliding Doors

May 18, 2012 By 10 Comments

Today while I was driving from a conference back to my kids’ field day shenanigans, which was actually taking place on the field at my work so, yeah, nowhere to run nowhere to hide and all that, I was a realtor.

When I was a realtor I tapped my painted fingernails on the steering wheel to the tune on the radio because I wasn’t actually listening to the idiot governor giving an interview in which he managed to sound both imperious and like an ignoramus at once on NPR.  No, instead I listened to music from my college days, music that my clients would read as both hip and non-threatening should they get in the car and I’d accidentally left the radio on.

I was wearing clicky heels and looked generally very put together.  My outfit was clearly thought through, as opposed to…not.  My hair looked blown out, but I do it myself, and my roots didn’t show.  I was wearing makeup and actually took the time to do eyeliner, because in my realtor life, that’s what I do.  And I like it.

I had lunch with friends because my realtor schedule was flexible today, and I only showed one house this afternoon.  I eat only salad for lunch.  Ever.  I am a mediocre tipper.

I am never late for appointments.  My car is spotless.   I, personally, do not care for this house I am showing because it lacks character and is not especially well built (although my heels made a spectacular sound on the kitchen tile), but I will sell the shit out of it anyway.   The people who are most interested in this house are moving here “because of the schools,” which is what everybody who moves here says.  I gave them 1,001 other reasons to move here.  They aren’t going to buy this house.  They are going to buy another house, a bigger one, they just don’t know it yet.

In my realtor life I drink a martini every evening before dinner and sneak cigarettes on the back porch after my kids have gone to bed.

 

 

 

For the record:  I know lots of people who sell houses and not one of them is anything like this.  Except for maybe the martini and cigarettes.  Yeah, I’m looking at you.

 

 

 

 

 

Filed Under: Facts of Life, I Just Make Most of This Up Tagged With: