So I’m in Target, perusing the Dollar Deals section in the front of the store for preschool-friendly goodies as I always do when it hits me: I have no need for foam super hero stickers or glow in the dark bracelets anymore. I don’t need play dough, magic wands or butterfly wings this year.
Well folks, I’ve done it again. I’ve quit my day job. I’ve resigned from my position as Teaching Artist and Creative Movement Extraordinaire at “The School” and I won’t be seeing my little beach balls anymore.
That means no more nonsensical knock-knock jokes. No more crazy dance moves. No more philosophical conversations about nail polish between the bathroom stalls. No more attempts to explain that I do not have a baby in my belly and that my hair did not get “broken.”
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t going to miss them like crazy. But teaching underserved kids in North Philly isn’t exactly an easy gig. The work itself was fun, but if you’re a good teacher (which I like to think I am…) it starts to take a toll after a while.
So I’ve resigned.
And will henceforth be spending my mornings writing.
I’m almost afraid to jinx it. It’s taken me years to figure out what I want to do, and figuring out the what is only half the battle.
Figuring out the how, it turns out, is the hard part.
(See Friday’s post if you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m still a work in progress, even after nearly three years of blogging.)
Nonetheless, my schedule for the upcoming school year is, quite possibly, the most amazing schedule a freelancer could hope for: I’m teaching three nights a week, reviewing on my nights off and spending my weekends either back in the studio for private lessons and rehearsals or—when the gods of scheduling smile down upon us—breaking furniture with The Wedding Date.
If all goes according to plan, things will get a bit stickier once the spring semester gets underway but they’ll be sticky in a good way. Sticky in a something-I’ve-wanted-for-a-very-long-time-way, but I’m afraid to jinx that as well so you’re just going to have to wait until January.
I nearly gave up last year. By the end of May I had a not-so-little meltdown and decided I ought to start applying for normal, 9-5 office jobs again. But now I’m back.
And in the words of The Wedding Date (who deals with my career-meltdowns by quoting Finding Nemo) I need to “just keep swimming… just keep swimming.”
So here’s to the start of a new school year.
And here’s to chocolate:
(Yes, those “flowers” are chocolate. Click here to find out how to make them.)