If you haven't noticed, I haven't been blogging. Like, at all. But I got a good excuse.
I went back to school. This semester, I'm a teacher and a student, teaching two classes and taking five. If all goes well, I will have my secondary ed certification in two years.
It's something I've been putting off since... forever. I kinda knew since I was very young that I was meant to be a high school English teacher. Teenagers fascinate me. So does literature. In front of the classroom is the only place I've found where I can stand and feel completely at ease with being a total dork. Plus, I like to think I'm pretty good at teaching. Not that I feel like I know what I'm doing. Seven years as an adjunct has left me with lots of questions, but no answers. But when I enter the classroom, I bring those questions, because I know there are no solid answers. That's why I get up every morning. Because I want to keep learning.
They say, those who can't do, teach. I think it's true, sometimes. Toni Morrison might have some beef with it. For me, becoming a secondary ed teacher is less about giving up writing, and more about giving myself a base.
Before I can feel at ease to write, I need a place to live. I need a dentist. I need to know that I can go to the hospital if I slip on some ice outside and break my leg. I need contact lens solution. Blankets. Hot water bottles. Trees outside the window. Paper in the printer. Veggies in the fridge. It may sound superficial, but without all that stuff, I feel like I'm writing FOR it.
Stephen King said it best: Writing is not a support for life. Believe me, I've lived it. For the past seven years, my future well being hinged on every single word I put on the page. When I wasn't agonizing, I was rushing through everything, worried that there wasn't enough hours in the day. It's just not worth it.
So... yeah. I'm out. For now. Hopefully I'll be back in the summer.