Clean it up

what it looks like to be scrubbed at the car wash

Every once in a while I fall into a self pity trap. It’s not really that I don’t feel what I’m doing is good enough. It’s good enough. But that’s just it. It’s just “good enough”. It’s not spectacular. The best. The one. The thing that makes you go ooo and aaaa. Just “good enough”... and that frequently means that if there is a choice…. what I’ve done… or me… is not chosen. I am merely there and honestly, in most cases, I understand. I know there’s a better, more exciting, option and that’s cool. Take it. It’s there.

I am the cog. One cog. Important, as a piece, but individually maybe not even noticed when missing. Or at least, not noticed for a while.

Teacher appreciation day was interesting.

We all line up at the front and student government reads cute little things about each teacher as a tribute and for the most part, students run up and hand the teachers gifts. I joked with my neighbor teacher, “I wonder who they’ll forget this year”... because yeah, usually one teacher is sort of forgotten.

So they go through the list. Big flowers, plants, gift bags are all delivered. Students run up for hugs. The things student government says are cute and appropriate and sometimes funny. “So Croquet” was popular this year.

And then my turn - I’m nearly last. And a student I had just given a rave review in a recommendation is delivering my little blurb. This makes me happy. I’ve had her as a student for 9 years. She’s run track and cross country. It does mean something for her to read me my little blurb and it made me happy. She hands me the little certificate thing and I go back to my spot and that’s it. And I recognize in that moment that I am the one this year. I stand in the line of peers, each of them with arms laden, with my 8.5 x 11 piece of paper and receive the school blessing. I am not sad in the moment… I just recognize what’s happening.

After assembly some students rush and grab a tub of red licorice for me. I know there are other folks that have noticed.

I’m okay. Really. If someone is going to be forgotten, I would prefer it to be me. I have the shell of a sturdy turtle. But it does still hurt just that little bit.

I go back to my room and there are some home baked brownies and an affectionate thank you from a student. A succulent magically appears in my room during the day. I get a few cards. A couple of gift cards from the families that always give something. I appreciate it and know I am loved.

And throughout the day I get my normal hugs and high fives and shout outs from across the courtyard. I am that cog. I hope I am a source of comfort.

I was a chaperone

at the last middle school dance of the year. Not my favorite thing. If I was a student I wouldn’t want a teacher lurking around watching what I’m doing. I try to blend into the wall. I was a wallflower when I was kid… and now it’s kind of my job to be a wall flower.

So I’m sitting and watching and 2 girls run over. One of them is the student that made me brownies. During track she started calling me her “bestie”... makes me a little uncomfortable, honestly. Anyway. She starts talking a mile a minute. “My boyfriend is going to be here. He’s coming with B… Do you think he’s going to ask me to dance? I hope he asks me to dance. Will he ask me to dance?” and she looks at me with great expectation. “uh, I don’t know” and smile “we’ll have to see what happens”. And they run off.

A few minutes later the boy (from a different school) shows up and is talking to his friend. She runs over. “He’s here! Did you see him? He’s the tall one! Do you think he’s the one for me? Will he ask me to dance?” and on and on and I smile and nod and say, “I’m not going to pass any judgment on this…”

And so my attempts at being a wallflower are dashed. Young love. And I’m confused because if he’s her boyfriend why would it be a big deal for him to ask her to dance… wouldn’t that just happen?

The dance starts and the young couple lean against a wall and talk. A slow song starts. I can feel her hoping for him to ask her from across the room. Nothing. Nope. Some of their friends come over and pester them. Nope.

The next slow song starts. She pulls at his arm. Nope. Ahh, not a dancer. Too much pressure.

Third time is a charm. It took a while but he follows her out and they dance and her smile is energy across the room. Young love. So sweet. So open. So eager and honest.

After the second dance she runs over to me. “Mr. Swanson! Did you see!? Did you see!? He asked me to dance!” and she bounces offf….

By the third dance I had to go and tell them to give it a little space. Catholic school dance, after all.

And seeing all that young love is great but it does make me more aware of what I’m missing. Sigh.

That horrible 3 - Third time

Three hospices. Three endings. Katie always said deaths came in threes. About 3 weeks ago Katie’s uncle was put on hospice and died shortly after. My friend V’s dad was put on hospice and died about a week ago. My sister’s husband has been on hospice for a while and died 3 days ago. And it all brings back memories. That feeling of relief when someone that is in pain gets to move one. No longer suffer. That feeling as I held Katie in her last breaths and watched her go. That feeling of lonely when you know people that were important either to me or more directly to people I care about are no longer there. It is part of life but the emptiness left is real and tactile.

Sporty

I had to give out awards for Cross Country and Track at our sports banquet Thursday. I’m really not big on awards. Sometimes it just feels like a forced expectation. I didn’t have a speech prepared. I thought about focusing on the importance of showing up. Being there at practice and then being there at meets. It caused me to think about my own behavior and how important it is for me to be one of the people that shows up. That’s looking for a way to show up for others. I try. I do. But sometimes I forget that there are different ways to show up.

I talked a little about showing up. I gave the inspirational award for CC to the athlete that fell during her race and despite the fact that she was bleeding, saw a distraught team mate and went over to encourage her before her own race. And for Track to the one that starts pestering me in January about when Track is going to start and then shows up to virtually every practice and works hard… and the joy on both their faces as they received their awards filled my heart. Okay. Sometimes awards are okay.

Cleaning it up

I’ve been thinking about washing my car for a while. Yesterday our 8th grade class put on a fundraiser for a school that burned down in the LA fires. The teacher that’s running it is one I had a bit of a tiff with earlier in the year. Still a bit grumpy about the whole thing, honestly. But it’s a cool event. I like the kids. Fences need to be mended and so as I head out to see KS I stop and donate 20 and 18 8th graders pounce on my car with me in it. I take some pictures. They are smiling and laughing. They ask if they can get on my car… they climb on my car and keep scrubbing. The energy is positive and overflowing and they genuinely look so happy that I showed up for their event.

And then I drive off… an effervescent stream of happy emotional bubbles streaming behind my car.

And Trader Joes

I was in the parking of Trader Joes and thinking too much and diving into self pity this morning. Thinking of how aware I was of being alone as I woke this morning. Feeling under appreciated at school. Thinking about how much I’ve given because I think it’s important but also realizing that it has just sort of become an expectation. Folks do tire of saying thank you. Is there really a need? Would they notice if I stopped? I don’t really know. I don’t think I can just stop. And as the thought of coaching for 20 weeks of Cross Country and Track and then just having it end with seemingly little appreciation despite the seeming success I hear a voice, “Mr. Swanson, let me take that cart for you.” It’s a parent from school whose son ran track. He takes my cart and laces it with his own that he’s returning… and he pauses… and he turns to me “You know, we really appreciate all your effort and work with the track team this year…” followed by a little friendly banter.

And yes… it is all okay.