Ten Years Later

I feel a need to write about September 11, 2001.  If you don't want to read it, that's fine.

I'd just begun my third year of teaching in a very small town in Virginia.  Strangely enough, not two days before that in a class discussion, I had informed my rather sheltered female students that they should count themselves lucky that war had never truly touched their lives.  They'd agreed.  [I bet they're remembering me saying that, too.]  Little did we all know. 

I had sent a girl down to the book room to get a class set of a novel we were supposed to begin that day.  She came back after a while and told me that nobody was in there; a plane had hit one of the World Trade Centers and all the adults had gone to watch the coverage on TV.  In typical student fashion, the girls immediately begged me to go watch as well.  In typical teacher fashion, I told them we'd finish our grammar lesson, but then I'd let them go watch because I wanted them to be informed about what was going on in the world.  Two minutes later, a voice came on over the intercom and asked us to go to the chapel.  We knew then something had happened.

The headmistress informed us all that two planes had hit each of the Twin Towers in New York.  Not only that, a third plane had hit the Pentagon.  At this one of my teacher friends uttered a scream and ran from the room to call her mother, who worked there.  We were in northern VA; a few other girls had family members in that same building.  Thankfully, nobody lost anyone in that tragedy.  I remember feeling overwhelmed, wanting to know if my sister and friends who lived in NYC were all right, wanting to rush to the phone myself.  At that same moment I knew I had to put on a brave face for my students, just teenagers who quite suddenly had war thrust upon their formerly quiet lives.  The head of school sent the girls to their dorms or the cafeteria (I don't recall) and asked the teachers to stay. 

We made the decision to go on with classes as best we could for some sense of stability, even if we couldn't really teach lessons.  We'd resume after the next period technically began.  [G and N, am I getting this right?  Do you remember?]  As we filed out of the chapel, I remember looking at my fellow teacher, Leigh, and not having any words; neither of us did.  We simply reached out to each other and hugged tightly for a few long minutes, young twenty-somethings who'd realized how much our world had changed in such a short time.  I went to class and for the rest of the day the girls and I began the period talking about what had happened for part of the period, then attempting a lesson to achieve some sense of normalcy.  At lunch I rushed home and called my parents, desperate for news of my sister, A.  She'd managed to call my dad before the lines flooded and became unusable to tell him she was OK.  I remember turning on the TV and watching the coverage by myself, holding my dog Boo close and wondering why this had all happened, how were my other friends, would I know anyone who had died.  My friend T called to tell me our other dear friend L was safe, and I thought with a shock that L hadn't crossed my mind in the wake of worrying about my sister.  I felt terrible.

Strangely, my sister, abroad in Italy, had called my mother to find out what the hell happened before my mother had even turned on the TV or radio.  Her professor told her and her fellow students not to travel in large groups and to say to anyone who asked that they were Canadian.  The memorial e-mails began to fly the next day.  I remember sitting in my classroom alone the next afternoon after having looked at one particularly poignant group of pictures: stills from the tragedy combined with vigils that had sprung up around the world.  I put my head down on the keyboard and finally let myself weep for those who had died so needlessly and for the bizarre act of terrorism fueled by hate and religious zealotry.  A student came in to ask for something and I waved her off, unable to even look at her.  A day after that, the beep for the intercom came on in the middle of class again and we all froze, only to hear that some teacher had a phone call.  We all let out breaths of relief at the mundane announcement, recognizing at the same time how things had changed....never before had we felt fear at that innocuous little noise.

After the dust had literally and figuratively settled, I discovered I knew two girls who had perished:  Lindsay Morehouse, a year behind me in high school, and Cat Macrae, a girl I'd known a bit from summers in Southampton.  I don't bring up their names to be macabre or just to make a connection; I do it in remembrance of lives cut short.  We've all been touched by September 11 in some way.  Complacency of living in America--who would dare attack us?--has gone, replaced not by fear, at least in my mind, but realization that we cannot afford complacency of any kind.  I don't take things for granted as I used to.  I realize how fleeting life can be and how fortunate I am to have people in my life who love me as they do. 

So today I'll probably watch some of the coverage, hold my baby tightly, and kiss my husband a bit more than usual.  I'll look back on these ten years and what it's brought.  And I'll try to be grateful.

September fare

Although I won't have that first day of school, I plan to continue the tradition of the first day of school meal; keep up tradition.  Plus as the nights cool off and the air has that hint of fall to it, my mind turns to hearty soups and stews.  I love this time of year, fleeting as it is.  This one is super easy!

Crock Pot Turkey Sausage and Tortellini Stew

- 6 oz. turkey sausage, sliced (if you don't have the pre-cooked kind, I'd throw it in a skillet until it's just cooked through)
- 2 cans stewed tomatoes
- 1 can french onion soup
- 1-2 cups frozen green beans (I love extra)
- 3 c. water
- 1-2 c. coleslaw mix
- 1 small package cheese tortellini
- grated Parmesan cheese

Throw everything but the tortellini and cheese into a crock pot and stir to mix.  8 hours on low or 4 hours on high.  After the time is up, add the tortellini and cook on high for 15 more minutes.  Sprinkle Parmesan cheese on top of each serving.  Makes about six hearty servings.  NOTE:  You may want to add more water to thin it out a bit.

It's that easy!

Trade-offs

So I've had a theme in my posts lately, and this one will follow that theme.  I think it's because tomorrow is the first day of school and for the first time in a long while, I won't be part of it.  No laying out that "first day of school" outfit the night before, getting my lunch ready, making sure I have my class lists and attendance book all set to go.  That thrill of a new year, new possibilities in teaching. 

But I'm not sad, not really.  Well, I do feel a bit bittersweet.  However, I have to say that when I watch the kids walk down the path to school and I get to do so in my pajamas while holding my son, who just rolled over for the first time today, I will feel lucky that I have this time, even if it means we're tightly budgeting and a wee bit scared for the future.  Any extra minutes I get to spend with J, I consider a gift, something I wouldn't have if I still had a job.  So there's not a thing wrong with that.

Plus job hunting has reminded me of my other interests and skills--I've widened my net for possible work environments, and it's caused me to re-examine other passions I hold.  While I may not end up in a classroom setting, I can still find a way to use what I love about teaching--reaching out to others and helping them--in another arena.  Who knows what the future may hold in that respect?  I try to look at it as exciting rather than daunting, even in this hideous economy.  Meantime, watching J smile at me and grow a little each day fills me with love and the desire to do all I can for him and our family. 

So I look at September as a month of new possibilities anyway, just differently than I'd expected.  And I look forward to each day.

Closing a chapter

This week I packed up the last of my belongings from my previous job.  T picked them up on Friday and brought them home.  I don't work there anymore.  Since I live so close, it makes my feelings for the place...complex.  Yesterday as I walked the dog and baby, I saw kids getting ready for morning football practice.  One of them called out to me and asked about the baby, gave me a big smile.  It made me smile, but it'll take a little while to get used to the fact that that will not be a part of my life anymore.  Of course, that has its merits--no longer will I have to worry that I'll know the cashier at Rite Aid when I have to buy something personal.  That has actually happened more than once. 

I think the packing brought into sharp clarity that fear I mentioned from my last post--we have a newborn, I'm on unemployment, will we have enough to live on, will I become too expensive to hire because I ironically have too much experience....Nope.  Can't go down that road.  So I will try to look at this as a positive.  I feel so lucky that I'm getting this time to spend with my dear little man.  I don't regret a day of that.  This may give me the chance to try something different, something outside of teaching.  And I never quite felt comfortable at my job, honestly.  I don't want to get too far into it, but I never felt like I truly belonged.  This just gives me new opportunities, and I will try to take advantage of as many of them as I can.

Realizations

Well, it's a bit more of the same, although summer's coming to a close and I don't have a job yet, and frankly, that's scary.  I do have an interview, so I'm hopeful, but I don't even want to write any more about it...superstitious, you know.  I have a tendency to find things to worry about...I don't know if this is just part of my personality or inherited (my mom does spring to mind) or what, but for some reason I sometimes will think of ways that something won't work instead of looking on the bright side.  But as T pointed out, the only way we can think is positively because anything else becomes self-defeating.  We have a beautiful, healthy baby boy, and I give thanks for that miracle every day.  So as long as I remember the great things I do have and think in terms of when I'll get a job, we'll do just fine.  I think in this economy I have to play Pollyanna a bit, plus work hard to make my own luck.  That's the fine but important difference between expecting something good to happen and making something good happen.  I realized that if I think of my life right now in terms of doing for us and not for me, it gives me more impetus to get things done.

I apologize if this seems rambly; these thoughts have swirled around in my head for quite some time now, and I've just gotten the opportunity to give voice to them.  Bottom line, if I live my life fearing what bad things might happen, not as much good will happen, either.

Baby J has begun smiling more.  He rolls to the side and his little face lights up when I get him out of bed in the morning.  We've begun going for more morning walks with him in the Ergo; he tends to fall asleep and drool all over me.  I love it. 

New Mom Thoughts

So I have a few minutes, and I thought I'd write.  A few baby updates:

- He has begun gurgling, cooing, and smiling.  It's so thrilling I don't know how to express it.  He started at about five weeks (he's 6 and a half now--WOW) and T and I spend half our time just watching him and making noises back.  Cheap and wonderful entertainment, folks.  I truly love it.

- He weighs over 11lbs and sleeps well.  I don't even want to write more about it for fear he'll suddenly develop colic and scream for hours a day, poor little colicky babies.

- Apparently, the child likes funk and soul but not classic rock:  The Who came on and he began to cry, so we switched to The Spinners and he quieted right down.

- First official outing:  Taste Coffee House the next town over.  He slept the whole time.  It was very exciting.

- He's begun truly looking at things, especially this painting in our living room and the turtle mobile in his pack-n-play.  They don't even move and he gurgles at them like mad.

I'm writing this down partially for me...haven't begun a baby book yet and I know if I don't write these things somewhere, I'll forget.  So I apologize, but consider yourselves privileged that you're part of the record of his young life.

Recently I joined a parent group in my area--the Internet is a wonderful tool.  I realized I needed to meet some other moms in the area and this is the modern way to do it.  I knew they had to be out there; the schools wouldn't be so damned overcrowded otherwise.  Went to my first meeting at the one woman's house the other day, and it just felt nice to make myself part of a network of other women like me, at least in terms of having kids.  They all seemed quite nice and the group has TONS of outings.  The coordinator also pointed out that even if an event was geared toward older kids for me to come anyway and just hang out with the parents...that's part of the reason for the group.  I'm glad she reminded me of that.  I don't always reach out or ask for help when I need it, so I end up alone far too often.  I've written about this before: I'm not an unfriendly person, but I think I wait sometimes for opportunities to meet other people to present themselves instead of making the opportunity myself or seeking one out. So I'm making attempts and seeing what I can do to pull myself out of...myself.  I'm trying to make more calls to friends and keep connections going.

It's interesting: In a recent issue of Real Simple, I read an article on how to be a better friend.  It had suggestions from various experts and then the last one came from a nine year-old girl.  She pointed out that she has all day at school to see her friends, but adults don't have that and they need to do a better job of seeing their friends.  Talk about a case of out of the mouths of babes....

Still Here

Just checking in...I simply don't have a whole lot to report other than feeding frequency, diaper changes, watching Baby J grow and change (which is really amazing--he's a month and already almost 12lbs, according to our scientific method of weighing ourselves and then holding him and re-weighing), and realizing the beauty and wonder of showers and naps.  Oh, and the occasional job search.

Right now he's in the middle of a growth spurt, which means he's eating ALL THE TIME.  I love him so much, so I feel guilty when he cries and a part of me thinks, "Again?!", but I know this too shall pass (thank you, Ouiser) and I'm so lucky to have him in my life.  I sort of can't figure out what we did before we had him.

OK, he's crying, so I'm off to see what Mommy Magic I can pull off.  I'm thinking a drive around the neighborhood to calm him, likely in the A/C!  Promise I'll write more when he gets a wee bit more scheduled.