I had a telephone interview yesterday, wrote up a resume, and asked some current and former colleagues for references.
I also engaged in a tremendous amount of stewing over this 1-day a week teaching position.
If I am offered this job and accept it, I would miss seeing G off on his first day of kindergarten, which was making me feel terribly guilty yesterday.
Nevermind that the boy gets up at the crack of dawn, which would allow me to snap his photo on the front porch as I have on his first days of 3- and 4-year-old preschool.
Nevermind that because his older sister attends the same school, they will both ride the bus to school and I wouldn't even be going up to the school to get him settled (cause isn't that what big sisters are for???).
Nevermind that the boy has seen so much of the school between having speech therapy there and being there constantly for events with his sister, he knows his way around pretty darn well anyway and could likely get to his kindergarten classroom himself.
Nevermind that I have a husband with a very flexible schedule who could do the honors if necessary.
Nevermind that I have been in attendance at every other single solitary thing G has ever done in his 5.5 years of existence.
But damned if I don't feel a sinking sense of doom at the prospect of missing this one.little.tiny.thing.that.G.will.not.remember.one.way.or.the.other.
I am being irrational.
And I think it is because I am "scurred."
Nine years of stay-at-home motherhood is equal to the entire period of time I worked after graduating college with my bachelors degree (5 as an editor and 4 as a teacher).
I don't feel like the same person I was 9 years ago before I was a mom, and so I worry that I am no longer as good of a worker, a teacher, a colleague. Do I still have it? Is it possible to feel like an entirely different person and still be the same person professionally?
It seems the universe, in bringing these jobs to my door more or less, is sending me a message. I have not been "looking" for teaching jobs in any way, shape or form. A teaching job was offered to me earlier this year completely out of the blue. Information about this 1-day a week job came to me at a skate party by a woman I barely know. When life keeps sending me similar signals, I can't help but think it means something.
Being the eternal optimist (snort), I wonder if life is trying to tell me, "Carrie, quit yer bitchin!" I declined the first job because I would have had to put M in daycare 3 days a week, and I just couldn't do it. I couldn't give up that much time with him. I wonder if, with this 1-day a week job, my guilt at even the prospect of not seeing G step onto the school bus is proof that I need to just shut up and carry on for the next two years until M begins full-time school.
But I know I would be the world's biggest fool to not accept a 1-day-a-week position because I would miss the 2 minutes of my kid stepping onto a school bus.
Fear can make really goofy things take on monumentally critical importance.
As much as I yearn for a rediscovery of myself and the things I used to love (like teaching), I'm scared of what such a change, even a little change, would mean for me. I have gotten very used to my routine, so much so that I am bored stiff at the prospect of it staying exactly the same for the next two years.
I think I should file this under "No one can have it all."
I also engaged in a tremendous amount of stewing over this 1-day a week teaching position.
If I am offered this job and accept it, I would miss seeing G off on his first day of kindergarten, which was making me feel terribly guilty yesterday.
Nevermind that the boy gets up at the crack of dawn, which would allow me to snap his photo on the front porch as I have on his first days of 3- and 4-year-old preschool.
Nevermind that because his older sister attends the same school, they will both ride the bus to school and I wouldn't even be going up to the school to get him settled (cause isn't that what big sisters are for???).
Nevermind that the boy has seen so much of the school between having speech therapy there and being there constantly for events with his sister, he knows his way around pretty darn well anyway and could likely get to his kindergarten classroom himself.
Nevermind that I have a husband with a very flexible schedule who could do the honors if necessary.
Nevermind that I have been in attendance at every other single solitary thing G has ever done in his 5.5 years of existence.
But damned if I don't feel a sinking sense of doom at the prospect of missing this one.little.tiny.thing.that.G.will.not.remember.one.way.or.the.other.
I am being irrational.
And I think it is because I am "scurred."
Nine years of stay-at-home motherhood is equal to the entire period of time I worked after graduating college with my bachelors degree (5 as an editor and 4 as a teacher).
I don't feel like the same person I was 9 years ago before I was a mom, and so I worry that I am no longer as good of a worker, a teacher, a colleague. Do I still have it? Is it possible to feel like an entirely different person and still be the same person professionally?
It seems the universe, in bringing these jobs to my door more or less, is sending me a message. I have not been "looking" for teaching jobs in any way, shape or form. A teaching job was offered to me earlier this year completely out of the blue. Information about this 1-day a week job came to me at a skate party by a woman I barely know. When life keeps sending me similar signals, I can't help but think it means something.
Being the eternal optimist (snort), I wonder if life is trying to tell me, "Carrie, quit yer bitchin!" I declined the first job because I would have had to put M in daycare 3 days a week, and I just couldn't do it. I couldn't give up that much time with him. I wonder if, with this 1-day a week job, my guilt at even the prospect of not seeing G step onto the school bus is proof that I need to just shut up and carry on for the next two years until M begins full-time school.
But I know I would be the world's biggest fool to not accept a 1-day-a-week position because I would miss the 2 minutes of my kid stepping onto a school bus.
Fear can make really goofy things take on monumentally critical importance.
As much as I yearn for a rediscovery of myself and the things I used to love (like teaching), I'm scared of what such a change, even a little change, would mean for me. I have gotten very used to my routine, so much so that I am bored stiff at the prospect of it staying exactly the same for the next two years.
I think I should file this under "No one can have it all."
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