Tuesday Slice: RIP, dishtowel pillows

 

♪♫"Mother Necessity, where would we be..."♫♪

Our guest room in our three-bedroom home was occupied by our eldest after the birth of our second child decades ago.  Not wishing to make out-of-town guests sleep on the floor, we got rid of the living room sectional I purchased while still in college and replaced it with a sturdy futon couch and chair set.  We're not talking the rickety futons of game rooms and frat houses; these pieces are made of sturdy tropical hardwood with coil-spring mattresses, which we replaced a few years ago with a generous tax refund. Three people could sleep fairly comfortably when all the pieces were unfolded.

The arms of the couch were a problem, though.  There are slats on the sides where the remote would fall through, and we were used to having softer places to rest our arms.  Being a thrifty, crafty housewife back in the day without access to the internet or Amazon, but with access to a sewing machine that wasn't yet covered with dust, I headed to Wallyworld, bought some dishtowels and pillow stuffing, and created simple bolster pillows to soften the ends of the couch and keep the remote from straying.

Those pillows have been through baby rocking, lots of naps, illnesses, and visitors.  They have been washed multiple times a year, resulting in clumps and bumps in their stuffing.  The gingham on two of the pillows is beginning to fade a bit.  It was time to level up to real bolsters.  Kohls happened to have 12in x 20in inserts, and pillow shams that match our futon covers.

My plans are to rip apart the seams, toss the old stuffing, and used the towels for their intended purpose or add them to my husband's rag pile.  But first, I'm going to take a moment to thank my old self for her ingenuity, and for the support these pillows have lent to our tired bodies over the years.

Our old, lumpy dishtowel pillows

Firm, new bolster pillows!

Tuesday Slice: New year no longer

 

I was in a funk again, yesterday.  The feeling was echoed by a fellow recent retiree in a text, saying that the first day back for teachers was hitting her harder than the first day back for librarians.  I responded that it made sense; she was missing the sense of community, the dopamine hit we get when we're greeted by smiles from people who appreciate our work.

But as a I puttered around all afternoon, accomplishing little to nothing, I thought it had to be more than just that.  I went to bed early, still feeling out of sorts.  When I woke up this morning, it hit me.

It's the calendar.

I would venture to say that for most of the working world, the new year starts on January first.  If your job is heavy on money management, it may begin in July or October--the beginning of your fiscal year.

For those of us who served in education, our new year has been in August or September for DECADES, even if you're a first year teacher.

Think about it:  we spend thirteen to fourteen years following a school calendar in (Pre)K through twelfth grade.  Then we spend another four years or more following the university calendar as we get our degree. There's a minimum of seventeen years of fall starts and summer breaks.

As educators, we step into the same calendar system we lived by as children.

I was an educator for thirty-three years. That's forty-nine years of living by the school calendar (I graduated with my undergrad in three years, if the math isn't mathing for you).

I was out of education for six years during that stretch, but my children attended preschool and I did some tutoring, so technically, we were living by the school calendar for at least half of that time, too.

Is it any wonder that retired educators feel out of sorts when that first August rolls around without the beginning of year fanfare?  It's like New Year's Eve without the champagne, countdown, and kisses.  We're missing the opportunity of starting anew alongside treasured colleagues and eager students. 

It's time to learn to celebrate what we've accomplished and start over whenever we want to, no matter what the calendar says.  

Tuesday Slice: Not yet ready for used to be

 

I am not there for the soft entry, the smiles,

the "How was your summer?" and "Loved the pics of your vacation!".

I am not there to hunt for a seat near an outlet, knowing my laptop still needs to charge.

I am not there for the new tee shirt, the long agenda, the fresh coffee and breakfast tacos.

I am not there with a fresh new planner, filling in dates of meetings and holidays and book fairs.

I am not there for the updates, legal (hopefully better news) and software glitch fixes.

I am not there for the new books, the new budgets, the new resources--or the lack of the latter.

I am not there, and no one is there in my place, either.

I am not there because I chose not to be there...but I am not yet ready for used to be.

***********

It is the first day back for school librarians in my district, and they will all be meeting together to look at the year ahead.  I retired at the end of last year, and that position has yet to be filled, along with several other library postings; I may be subbing in a few of those until librarians are found.  This hasn't happened in the decade-plus years I served behind the circulation desk. I think teacher pay incentives (TIA, here in Texas) which result in salaries higher than a librarian earns, as well job uncertainty as neighboring districts cut librarian positions, may be to blame.  

I miss my library and teacher colleagues.  I miss the hope and optimism behind planning the scope and sequence for the year, embedding read-alouds and research lessons.  I consider myself a realistic optimist, but today, I will have to remind myself why I chose to retire, and those reasons aren't so rosy--or I would still be there, after all.