The piece I wrote last week for Dad Gone Wild got picked up by Chalkbeat, a national education blog. I’m really excited to get a wider audience for an important topic: school segregation. Check it out if you didn’t see it yet!
I got to see Roxane Gay last night and she was delightful and hilarious. The entire crowd really enjoyed her sense of humor. Some topics she covered: HGTV’s Tiny Houses, online trolls, Beyonce, Outlander recaps, and writing about trauma. She said she thinks of herself primarily as a fiction writer, though she is more well known for her opinion writing and personal essays. She discussed the writer’s conflict between wanting to be seen and understood, and wanting to be invisible, and the way that writing is always misunderstood. Once an audience question got her started trashing the president, she had a hard time stopping, understandably. As a mom of two toddler boys, I deeply sympathize with her wish for “a year of male silence.” Her favorite book is The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton–a book with an ending that blew me away. Two lines I found motivating and inspiring as a writer: “things that intimidate me are the things that I find most intellectually satisfying,” and “do something no one else is doing.”
She’s finishing her book tour to promote her memoir, Hunger. I read the first 100 pages or so while waiting, and it’s incredible. I knew some of the bare bones of her harrowing personal story from reading Bad Feminist, but here it’s really raw, the focus of an entire book rather than a shorter piece. Her voice is one that’s so necessary in the sphere of fat acceptance, which too often is limited to the idea of accepting size 12 bodies. I’m looking forward to finishing the book, and hoping to get into her fiction soon as well!
So today I turned 33. Because good food is really all you need to have a happy day, I had sushi for lunch, and fajitas and margaritas for dinner, with ice cream cake for desert. And of course, sharing that food with family. I had tuna rolls with the guy who first introduced me to sushi, and my four-year-old had his first tortilla, and my one-year-old made a funny face when he tasted the lime from my margarita and then got super excited about taking tiny bites of ice cream.
I’m a little sad I didn’t get to see my mom today. Since having my kids I’ve realized that birthdays are celebrations for mothers too. Every time one of my boys has a birthday, I want to get a picture of just me with him, the two of us together as a unit like we were the day he was born. My boy’s birthday is a chance to congratulate myself on keeping him alive for another year, to celebrate his growth and the care I’ve put into it. I don’t think I’ll feel differently in 30 years. My mom is the person I miss the most since moving away from the family, and I especially wish my sons could see her more often because they love each other so much. And I also remember how she baked Barbie cakes and threw pool parties for me and my sister and took us to Johnny’s Toy Store to use our keys to the castle. She made our birthdays special, and since mine is in June, it was always in the middle of a summer that we spent at the pool and the library. So I miss my mom on my birthday.
I’m getting to be old enough where birthdays make me have existential thoughts and wonder about the direction of my life. 33 is in my head as a key year for some reason–I’ve heard it called the “Jesus year” because that’s how old He was when He died. It seems like a pivotal number, even though it’s not really any official milestone. So I’m asking myself, Am I on track? Is my life going the way I want it to? Will I have regrets someday because of the things I didn’t do this year?
Looking at my life like this, I think one thing I can say for sure is that I’m proud of my children and my family life. I’ve made some choices to prioritize that aspect of my life, and though I wish I could have everything and not have to choose, I would make the same decisions again. I do regret not writing more, or more ambitiously, and I’ve resolved to change that. It’s a matter of habits and scheduling and confidence.
As a teacher with a summer birthday, I get a day to myself that’s a vacation day, just as I did when I was a kid. The years of my life overlap with the school year, and the academic calendar, not the Gregorian, dominates my life, so that birthdays seem like a more natural time for me to make resolutions than January 1. The free time I get in the summer is time I like to use to kick off good new habits, try new things, and rejuvenate myself in lots of ways. I’ve been doing a good bit of that work this year, but I’ve been keeping quiet about it so far. I’m hoping these efforts will come to fruition in the next month, so that I can have good habits established when the school year starts again. I hope I can make 33 live up to the hype I’ve been giving it.
I wrote something about my experience in an alternative teacher licensure program and sent it to TC Webber of Dad Gone Wild. He posted it and hopefully it will get the conversation going about teacher training. Here’s a permanent link. I’m super excited that Diane Ravitch retweeted me!
— Diane Ravitch (@DianeRavitch) March 7, 2017
An essay I wrote is going up today on HerStory, a blog of women’s writing. It’s kind of a journal entry from almost a year ago. I wrote the meat of it back in March 2016 about how miserable I was at the end of my pregnancy, and returned to in October. That was when I cleaned it up and made sense of it to present to an audience. I hope it helps explain some of my time away from the blog. Here’s a permanent link. Enjoy!