Tuesday Slice: Anticipation

Anticipation

This is the week.  Today is the day.

The shelves are full to overflowing

books lying horizontal on top of neat rows

Tables are rearranged and cleared

lessons at the ready in a digital file

Sitting dots placed in the Story Castle

orienting read-alouds at hand

Brand-new titles sit facing out in one case

proudly displayed on top of another

New shelf markers are itching to be used.

 

Tuesday Slice: The joy and the pain

I'll never forget the joy I felt ordering books for the first time as a librarian.  I can't forget it, because nine years later, I still feel that joy.  I start stocking my shopping carts even as the previous year's budget is spent, loading them up with award winners from spring announcements and recommendations from publishers, blogs, and other librarians.  There's always a series or three to fill, too.

This past spring was no different, except that I have the added challenge of spiffying up an older collection.  (Yes, I know I made a word up there.)  I have to balance out my wants--all those bright, shiny new publications--with my needs--updated nonfiction, replacing worn classics to increase their curb appeal.

After receiving my district book budget this year, I peeked at the shopping carts I'd started on my two favorite jobbers' sites...and the pain hit.  I am already just over my budget limit, and I need to keep some funds in reserve for next year's Bluebonnet Award nominees and books from the spring library conference.  

Do I start culling my list...or do I ask for more money from my campus?

I think it will be less painful to do the latter.  I have a feeling they love the joy of new books, too.

Tuesday Slice: Pare it down to three

After the dishwasher is emptied and my coffee is made, I started my morning brain dump. (Julia Cameron calls it "morning pages", but what I write isn't anywhere near as elegant as that term, nor the three page length she suggests--one page is all I have time for.)  

Since it is the beginning of the school year--students start tomorrow--my mind is racing with the multitude of tasks that must be completed to get the library up and running.  Clearing spaces, rearranging tables and materials and shelves, downloading and uploading Excel spreadsheets for ID badges--oh, and a schedule for the classes to come in for their pictures for those badges--cataloging materials, planning read-alouds, making the orientation lessons, finishing the bulletin board, reviewing the budget, working on required professional development, decorating the library (have to check with fire marshal regulations), and...and...and...

I look to the sticker I placed on my page.  "Things take time."

I look back to my brain dump.  What can reasonably be done today, knowing that my time will be punctuated with teacher requests and emails that will need answers?  What will bring me closer to being ready for tomorrow?

Clear the space and rearrange tables and shelves.

Catalog the most needed materials.

Prep for badge-making.

That's it.  If those three things get done, I can breathe a bit easier when students arrive tomorrow.  If I can shelve some books to clear even more space, that would be icing on the proverbial cake.  

I tell myself to breathe and keep breathing.  Things take time.  Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither will the 21-22 library program.

(On a related note...I am looking forward to ordering my 2022 Plum Paper Vertical Priorities planner with a space to list three must-do tasks each day.  I think it will be balm for my frazzled spirit.)

Tuesday Slice: Redux

 

Politicized to the point where

Anyone's opinion is accepted as fact

Nurses and

Doctors and scientists, the actual

Experts, shaking their heads--

Must we keep making the same

Ignorant mistakes?

COVID remains in the headlines.

We are entering another year of teaching in a pandemic, and it feels more dangerous to me this year than last.  We know more about mitigation, yet the government refuses to mandate those measures, pandering to their base instead of science.  The lack of mandates increases the risk for educators and students, especially those of us in elementary schools this fall.  

Once more, into the fray...  

Respecting my Spirit--Spiritual Journey Thursday

 Linda has the helm for this month's Spiritual Journey Thursday post.  She's given us the prompt of tying in "respect" with "spirit".

I don't often solicit advice on Facebook.  But after falling asleep on the couch sitting straight up at the end of a particularly exhausting workday, I posted this:

"Okay, fellow introverts who act like extroverts for your job: tips needed for how to retain some energy for home at the end of a work day filled with peopling. I was thoroughly exhausted yesterday by 5p. Does not bode well for a clean house or homemade dinners this coming school year. And please don't tell me to do all the home stuff on the weekends, because that gets old quick--no time for soul-filling, then! My Sundays are already full of getting ready for the week ahead."

I don't think I worded my question well, as I received lots of well-intentioned advice for boundary making, meal and housecleaning services. What I want is a fix for the draining effects on an introvert of a people-serving job--if that is even possible.

Because my friends are wonderfully supportive, I did glean sound advice from their responses: I need to respect my Spirit, my energy, my core.

I need sleep.

I need time to rest, and process.

I need to give myself Grace, especially during these hectic back-to-school weeks.

I need to continue setting those time boundaries, because Time is the most precious of commodities for educators seeking a work-life balance.

I can turn to music for mood and energy boosting.

I will work on earlier bedtimes for work nights, and load up my CD player with music to make me move and smile and raise my energy level at the end of a day full of 'peopling'. I will respect the needs of my Spirit, and survive and thrive through this season of self-sacrifice.

Tuesday Slice: Mourning clothes

 

It was easy to quickly look in the box, notice the first few items, and relegate them to her "try on" pile.  After all, the boxes were labelled "Size 10".  I'm fairly sure I won't reach that size again in this lifetime, and was slowly becoming comfortable with that realization...or so I thought.

My daughter is often able to make quick, certain decisions, a skill which evades me.  I watched her as she went through the stacks, holding up each piece of clothing, sorting them into maybe, hard yes, hard no piles.  I watched dispassionately, yet impressed by her certitude.  Only a quarter of the four dozen ended up as a maybe or yes.  

Out of nowhere, my husband tossed me a pad of paper and a pen.  "List what's going to Goodwill," he said, black trash bag whooshing open in his hands.

He holds up each piece, and I start to write and tally.  Knit tops, t-shirts, dress pants.  The white blouse with the beautiful lacework-edged sleeves.  The beaded coral capris.  The fitted button-down blouses that highlighted the slimmer waist I worked hard for in my forties.  Several pieces of clothing still had tags on them; they were logged under the "new" column.

I could feel a heaviness forming behind my eyes and in my heart.  The last piece of clothing went into the bag.  I set the paper and pen down, wished everyone a good night, and went to bed mourning for the person who wore those clothes.