You should have been there. I walked into the room and headed straight for the name badge table. I could feel eyes on me, and not because I was wearing my favorite gray silk blouse and fetching accessories. No, this was more like curiosity staring, like when you see a balding woman in the produce aisle. You’re not trying to be rude, but you just can’t help but gawk a little.
I picked up my badge and began looking for a place to sit. Quick sweep of the room and I’m headed towards the big guy sitting by himself at the furthest table…perfect. I sat down, introduced myself and asked about him. Turns out he’s the new music teacher in a neighboring town. Hi, how are you. I could read his mind and knew his thoughts were echoing those around the room. They went something like this, “Uh, excuse me, ma’am. The seminar for nearly retired teachers is down the hall. THIS seminar is for NEW teachers. You’re a little confused. But that’s OK because senility is fairly common in people your age. Do you need assistance getting to your meeting? No? Well, be sure to take your time getting there so you don’t fall and break a hip or something.”
When the mentoring seminar for new teachers started there were the obligatory introductions. I resisted the urge to explain myself. Why do I always think I have to tell my entire story, as if I’m required to apologize for beginning my career when I’m nearly fifty? I guess on some level I still feel the societal pressure to conform to How Its Usually Done. Being the only middle-aged woman in a room full of twenty-somethings should probably make me just a hair self-conscious. And truthfully, it did (a little). But WHY?? What have I got to be apologetic or self-conscious about? I lived my life and made my decisions with clear objectives in mind. I have no regrets. I would do it the same way again.
So I’m having this internal debate with myself as others are introducing themselves and when it is my turn, I simply give the same brief introduction that everyone else does. I was quite proud of myself. No apologies. No explanations. I would take my rightful place at the table. This is who I am. Deal with it.
I was feeling pretty good about melding into the group throughout the course of the morning until we got to the part where we were supposed to do some small group brainstorming about classroom management difficulties. I felt the generation gap begin to widen. The first to share with the group described how he had a large enough classroom to afford boys and girls bathrooms within in his classroom (unimaginable luxury!!). His problem, he went on to lament, was that some prankster/thug/mentally unbalanced student had been smearing their poop on the walls of the bathroom. And this poor rookie teacher had been unable to determine the culprit. How should he handle it?
I was completely amused by the reaction of the group. Gasps and outcries exploded around me. One poor male reading specialist to my right moaned, “I did NOT just hear that!” The teacher with the Mad Pooper seemed just a little gratified that he had the full sympathies of his compatriots. The Gap is now a yawning chasm.
Me? I’m sitting there thinking, “Really? This kind of reaction is warranted for a little feces? It’s not like its radioactive waste or The Black Plague.” I guess it’s a mother thing, I don’t know. Once you’ve changed diapers for four children, fecal matter is not really such an awful, end of the world thing. I’m not saying I miss it or liked it, I’m just saying it’s not a deal breaker.
One of my most trying mothering days came when my oldest son was three, and his younger brother was a one-year-old. Older Brother wanted to help mommy out and decided to change his baby brother’s diaper…on my newly upholstered sofa. It was Poopapalooza in the Dahl house. It was EVERYWHERE. That was a baaaad day, for mommy and for poor Trevor.
The second event in my life that prepared me for Teacher’s Worst Nightmares was raising sheep for eight years. This may be a revelation to you city slickers, but livestock are not potty trained. They poop often and everywhere. I had a friend show up one day to look at my baby lambs wearing white canvass sneakers. Oh, you are really going to regret that…
Back to the seminar. I did enjoy the camaraderie of being with others who understood my frustrations, anxieties, and the overall roller coaster of a first year teacher. Someone commented that they were completely blown away by all the meetings that are required of a teacher. Amen to that! (I attended three today. THREE! One before school, one during lunch, and one after school). Teaching is my hobby, I guess. Attending meetings is my vocation. And to my fellow attendee’s credit, I really don’t think they were thinking disparaging thoughts about me. Everyone was very gracious and kind. If they thought my situation odd, they didn’t show it.
So I guess maybe its OK to have some life experience in my corner. There are drawbacks, certainly. Like, do you have any idea how old I’ll be before I can draw a full pension? Waaaaay old. But I love that I don’t have the pressures of a young family to worry about, and years of mothering a passel of young ‘uns is marvelous training for effective classroom management.
Elderly? Not quite yet, but I’ll gladly claim the title of Older Than Average. I think that maturity and wisdom are a pretty good trade-off.
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