So I suppose the title says it all. Lately I've been feeling a little "buyer's remorse," not enough to change direction but certainly enough to occasionally stop walking and stare at the ceiling wondering, 'what is wrong with me?' or to sit through a cycle of a red-green-yellow-red light because I'm distractedly wondering if I've really given this enough thought or perhaps, I need a few more months (give or take a few years) to really consider what it means that I'd move my children and myself to about 7,000 feet down and 8 miles into one of the Wonders of the World. Just sayin'. It's kind of a big thing.
So for you all who are wondering, what is she, nuts? I suppose the answer is, Jen Kreps Frisch says I'm not. For you all who know Jen, you know that doesn't hold much water. Sorry, Krepsy. But she did point out that you're sane as long as you wonder if you're actually crazy. She's right, you know. Those guys mumbling to themselves in puddles of their own pee, they wouldn't actually say, "I think I'm losing it." In fact, they'll tell you all about the reasons why everyone else is insane and they're the ones with all the reasonable answers and explanations that we refuse to acknowledge, if you ask. I did that. Once.
So, I'm at this fabulous training for the IB in a nice urban city on the East coast this week. I'm leading a workshop, getting newcomers to the IB to come to Jesus and drink the Kool Aid (I have no qualms about mixing metaphors) to be 21st century educators. My participants are actually some of the nicest people I've ever met, considering I'm bombarding them with a brain dump of highly complex pedagogy and practice. As they filed out today, our second of three days of said brain dump, they're actually thanking me, telling me how helpful it is and how much they are learning. It occurs to me, I'm really good at this. I really know my stuff. Throw any question at me, no matter how far you reach with your "what if...," I know where all the dust bunnies are under the IB couch, where the loop holes are, and even what's coming in years ahead because I know the moles in the Europe office.
And I'm walking away from it all.
I'm a master teacher and teacher trainer, and yet I'm going to probably one of the few places I could go where the kids are going to take my butt, wrap it up with a neat little bow, and hand it back to me- probably all within the first few minutes I've been with them. I am telling you, I've been fairly warned. When I was down there, the superintendant closed the door and said to me and the two other hopeful applicants, "Just so you know, we have discipline problems here." He then noticed the school psychologist out the window, and called him in. He also closed the door, and said, "Just so you know, we have discipline problems here." Not much long after that, the principal said directly to me, "You don't cry easily, do you? Because just so you know, we have discipline problems here." You don't say.
I understand that the kids who find it amusing to climb on the roof of the school during the school day will point to the cliffs and say, "what's so dangerous about being up here? I was up there yesterrday." It's also my understanding that they just might, so I've been told, tell me to fuck off and leave the classroom (but at least turning off the lights when they leave, the principal remarked). And then apparently, there's the turning over of desks and fighting with one another at random intervals.
Confronted with this reality, I really do wonder, what the heck am I doing?
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