Autumn is my favorite season. I am envigorated by the crisp mornings and clear-sky, low-humidity afternoons. In Maryland, the low-humidity and bright blue skies provide an unmistakable sign that the sluggish days of summer are coming to an end and that exciting changes are in the air. For those of us in education, the changes include a refreshing and energetic new school year as well as the changes in atmosphere. In the fall, different colors adorn the treetops and different clothes move to the front of the closet.
This year for me, the fall also means coaching field hockey. The primary reason I volunteered to coach this year was not so that I could get to know students on different grounds or so that I could feed my competitve streak; I wanted to coach so that I could be outside. I played field hockey in high school, but I don't remember my team's record as much as I remember being outside every afternoon during this glorious seasonal trasformation. Longing for those couple hours a day when I "had" to be outside is what inspired me to volunteer to coach a sport this fall.
Even knowing why I signed up, when coaching first began this year I found myself drained by the time committment. My lazy Saturday mornings now required me to get up and hold practice when I'd rather be in bed. My weekday evenings have been filled with games and practices that keep me away from my own workout at the gym and impair my adjustment to marriage as well as limiting my social life outside of marriage.
But now, in spite of the time committment, I'm finding joy in this job. My team's record is not outstanding. We're 4 and 2 right now. Loss number 1 was our first game which happened to fall the Tuesday after Labor Day when my team was still half-asleep from the three-day weekend. Loss number 2 came this Saturday during sudden death overtime when the other team scored before us. At the end of that game, my girls were in tears because they so badly wanted to win. We sort of made up for it yesterday with a 12-0 victory over another team.
We have five games left, but regardless of how our record looks at the end of the season, I hope that my girls will take some of the memories with them that I carry with me--memories of blue skies, crisp autumn air, and changing leaves; memories that conjure up feelings of excitement and fun each time fall arrives, even when the game of field hockey itself is a distant memory.
According to a personality test I took several years ago, I am an "idealist." The description of "idealist" on my test results stated that I see the good in people and situations and believe that those same people and situations can become even better. I also believe, according to this test, that I can personally make a difference in the betterment of people, situations, and our world in general.
At this moment, as I sit here staring at my lonely computer, I ponder whether or not the same results would materialize if I took that personality test today.
I know that I got into my profession because of the idealism that underpins my personality. Certainly, the paycheck was not the reason that I used my college and graduate school years to become an educator. No, I am confident that I am sitting in this windowless office because I arrogantly believed that I could help people who could not otherwise help themselves.
I say "arrogantly" because today I recognize that helping people must be a mutual endeavor. In the end, it does not matter what I do by myself.
I have a huge heart for helping people who lack the resources--both financial and otherwise--to rise above their circumstances. Specifically, my compassion is directed at helping the poor and neglected members of our society. Even more specifically than that, I'm interested in helping the youth of that poor and neglected social group. So here I am--a school counselor with ideals that are slowly being tarnished by the people I came to "save."
Supergirl I am not. Supergirl would be able to lift everyone up to a higher place. I can't even lift one without some desire on their part to be lifted.
The cliche is true: you can't help those who don't want to be helped. When I try to offer help, my efforts are often slapped down by the very person whom I'm trying to assist. When my efforts are not slapped down, they are either not recognized at all or not accepted as good enough. Surprisingly, even some of the people who seek assistance at the same time think that they are entitled to even more. I guess a sense of entitlement is a by-product of living in the United States.
In spite of daily rejection, I get up in the dark each morning and drive to work with some blind idealistic hope that today I will make a difference.
Exhaustion weighs down my muscles and eyelids. Movement requires extreme effort that comes even slower due to the apathy of tiredness. It's only Monday. Weekends without rest lead to dragging weekdays peppered by stressed-out sighs and short-fuse growls. Daydreams reel on repeat in my mind, stirring within me a deep longing for the 7 hours I will spend in my bed tonight. I need 14, but I have time only for 7. I vaguely remember days when sleeping late did not seem to be an unattainable luxury. I took those days for granted, unaware that an increasingly-busy schedule would one day render even a normal night's worth of sleep impossible. Time is a precious commodity. I want to spend my share doing good, but I cannot do much good when I am even too tired to move my fingers on this keyboard any longer.
Yes, the rumors are true--I'm back!!! Allison worked her magic and resurrected my site from its moldy grave! I've missed posting, but I've been too busy the past two months with a new job, a new husband, and a new evening activity, coaching JV field hockey at the school where I work. It almost didn't matter that my site was not working, because I couldn't find the time to post anyway! Quick life update: The job is draining, but exciting with a new adolescent crisis brought to my desk every day. The new husband is still an adjustment; I love him dearly, but we have gone to bed (and woken up) angry more than a few times since the big day. Coaching is fun--we're 3 and 1 so far with a big game coming up on Saturday. Lessons learned: Jobs tend to appeal to me more on paper than in actuality; I'd rather win the Maryland Mega Millions lottery and move on to a stage in my life that does not include work. Marriage takes work, but the good times are worth the bad. I like being outside with coaching, but my allergies are tortorous! In fact, I just sneezed again. How this all effects you, my faithful readers: With my new work schedule, I'm going to have to find a new time to post, which could result in few, but less hurried, posts from me. With my new marriage, expect the occasional emotional and therefore nonsensical rant that I will most likely completely retract the next day. With my new coaching job, well, not much of that effects you other than that it limits my time to post even more. But we have less than a month to go in the season, so that last trend will be short-lived.