Tales from a Teacher-Mama

When I’m lying in bed at night, waiting to fall asleep, I have tons of ideas to blog about. And now, in the light of midday, I can’t think of what they are. Maybe I should put a notebook and pen on my nightstand…but then I would probably be up jotting notes when I should be sleeping.

So until the ideas float back to me, I’m rambling. Babbling. Writing drivel. Why? Well, for one thing, if I don’t post regularly I’ll lose my account here. (I’ve already had to request to have it reinstated twice.) For another, it’s sort of a step in my therapy. Last week I talked with my counselor about wanting to be able to start something…AND finish it. Although we focused specifically on writing papers for the classes I’m taking, I’m generalizing her recommendations. She suggested that when I think about something I need to do–like write a paper–and I feel the anxiety causing me to shy away from the task, I should face it right then. Put in ten minutes on the paper, read through source material, work on the outline–something small, for a short time. Break it down into small, do-able pieces. Then go on with other things. Now, instead of having that paper (or whatever) hanging over my head as something I need to do, I’m in the process of doing it.

Of course, I knew this. I’m a teacher–I’ve given this advice to students. But it helps to have an outside, objective person help clear the fog of being overwhelmed and get back on track.

And now I have a new blog entry to post. It’s nothing earth-shattering (the counselor and I have also discussed my need for “perfection,” and the fact that it does not exist), but it’s done. I can check that off my to-do list and go on with my day…

I am addicted to reading. I have always loved to read, but my actual pursuit of this interest has waxed and waned. This year it is waxing. Just this month I’ve read 12 books, and will finish a 13th tonight before I go to bed. This summer when I discovered the Twilight books by Stephenie Meyer (yes I’m one of those people…), I read them each twice, then reread my favorite parts.

I read picture books with my kids, professional books related to my job, young adult novels, adult fiction and non-fiction, poetry, fantasy–genre doesn’t matter so long as the content catches my interest. Often I continue reading even when I’m not truly interested; I’m compelled to finish the book, like it or not.

When I finish a book, I immediately start figuring out what I will read next. If I don’t have a book lined up and ready to go, I start searching the bookshelves of the house. There’s usually something I haven’t read that I’ll give a try. But sometimes nothing strikes my fancy, and it’s too late to go out to the library or even a bookstore. Then I start walking aimlessly around the house, getting more and more anxious that I don’t have a book to read! My hands start shaking. I might try to abate my panic by reading a magazine, and that might help me at least get to bed for the night. The next day, though, I will go out and get myself a fresh stack of books. I don’t like to be without a ‘fix.’

It seems some of my passion for books rubs off on those around me. On my very first date with my husband Jeff, I went on and on about two books in particular: Holes by Louis Sachar and Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J. K. Rowling. The fact that he was sincerely interested in my retelling of each story was an indicator to me that he was a keeper. As we began dating, he asked me to tell him more about Harry Potter. Finally, I brought him my battered copy and read the book aloud to him. He quickly became addicted to the series, and over the years we have enjoyed reading all of them aloud to each other in turns. In part because of Jeff and me, my sister-in-law Tina also got hooked on Harry Potter. We even attended the midnight book release party for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows together–on the night before Tina’s wedding!

While our family was visiting for Thanksgiving, my father-in-law noticed my copy of The Story of My Life by Helen Keller sitting on a table. He commented that he remembered seeing the movie The Miracle Worker with Patty Duke and asked if the book was any good. I said I had enjoyed it and told him a little about it. Before he left he had read the first three chapters and asked to borrow it, which I was glad to have him do! Later when I told Tina and Jeff about this, they were both surprised as they’d rarely seen their dad pick up a book. Tina joked about my apparent “power” to get their family reading, and Jeff had similar thoughts. I laughed and said maybe that’s my superpower! I could be the superhero who foists books upon unsuspecting non-readers!

Whether I have a superpower or an addiction, I suppose there are a lot of things I might love that are worse than books.