Looking forward

Right now Providence is experiencing a mixture of rain and snow. In Massachusetts, where I teach, we're supposed to get up to 14 inches of snow tomorrow (yes, seriously). (And yes, April starts tomorrow.) Spring seems such a long time away.

But inside my little apartment, it's bright and cozy. Bread dough, shaped into two neat loaves, is rising in the oven. Pasta cooks on the stove for tomorrow's lunch. Later, J will come over for dinner, and we'll snuggle under blankets and watch old TV shows. And my two iris bulbs have pushed up through the soil in their pots, set to their internal rhythms, blithely unaware that the weather has decided to delay the coming of spring.

I'm looking forward to April.

Take a letter

A few days ago I was feeling especially low when I got home from school. But when I opened my mailbox, I found a letter!

This one was from my good friend N. He's currently in Armenia, finishing up his second year in the Peace Corps, and we've been sending transatlantic letters to each other since he started. Even though we can email pretty easily (and text, too), we save the letters for longer, more drawn-out thoughts and stories. Lately we've been swapping horror stories about teaching.

There's something about letters that email just can't touch. Maybe it's the anticipation--you have to wait longer to receive a reply, and the longer you wait the more exciting it is when you finally hold it in your hands. I've heard that what makes it special is that someone took the time to sit down and write to you, instead of dashing off an email. I guess that's part of it. For me, it's also the way letters force me to sit down and write, to collect my thoughts and focus consciously on what the other person said. It makes me feel more present.

I do wish we sent more letters. There's nothing like holding a slim, tissue-thin envelope in your hands when you get home from work. And those red and blue stripes make it even more fun.

Indulgences

As February drags on, I'm finding that I allow myself more indulgences.* Little things, like buying French vanilla coffee at the cafe by school instead of brewing a batch of plain coffee in my stained coffeemaker at home. Or baking scones one afternoon, just because. Or spending a weeknight watching the next Harry Potter movie on my list instead of grading. Or buying flowers once a week to brighten up the kitchen.

I used to worry about budgeting for things like flowers and breakfast out. You're supposed to save in your twenties, so I've heard, and it is good advice. I've even been guilty of over-budgeting, so much so that my mom will periodically call me and tell me to go out and buy some shoes, already. And while the little indulgences add up over time, they're just that: indulgences. As long as they don't take over your daily routine (as the Harry Potter habit is threatening to do), as long as they brighten up your day (or week), then they've done your job. You do what you can to get through February.


*My high school history teacher must really have made an impact on me if the first thing I think of when I use the word "indulgences" is not rewards, but the reason why Martin Luther decided the Catholic church needed reforming. Oh dear.

The shape of a day

A snow day, that is. Yes, another one! (Even though the roads were clear by 9 that morning....shhh.)

It starts with my new favorite breakfast: a puffed pancake (recipe from Naomi of rockstar diaries), drizzled with Ohio maple syrup, plus fresh coffee and orange juice. Eaten at the kitchen counter while reading a rediscovered children's book. With an immense feeling of satisfaction at having finally conquered the pancake's tendency to stick to the pan.

Then there's some research for a project.

While there are lesson plans due next week, I don't feel guilty about ignoring them. Because we weren't supposed to have this day anyway.

After lunch, a long walk with a friend along our favorite route, followed by cups of hot chocolate at the end of the road. We split up to be productive, which means settling down with The Hobbit to prepare for an upcoming literature unit at school. (So there is some work after all.)

Lately I've been having trouble feeling entirely at home in Providence, and things at school have felt like the start of the year all over again (like winter break was five weeks long instead of two). But yesterday was sort of a reintroduction to my apartment and one of the best parts of the city, and today things are looking a lot brighter.

Happy weekend, looking ahead.

Keeping calm

 So...it's, um, December.

The end of December.

I think I underestimated this little job of mine. And I'm not sure why; I grew up around teachers, knowing that their evenings usually consist of lesson plans and a pile of papers to grade. But somehow I neglected to consider that all my ambitious projects might become, well, too ambitious, once the school year really kicked in. Especially since the first year of teaching is supposed to be the hardest.

(And I sure hope so, because I can't imagine another year like this semester.)

December found me lying on the couch every night, pretending to do work when all I could really manage was watching TV. All my plans to research, to work on this little blog, to write, even to read for my book club: out the window. Instead I was racing to grade research papers, create lesson plans, and play handbells in the school choir (but that's another story). And I surfaced about a week ago, back home on winter break, to discover that the year is basically over.

Really, the only manageable goal for this first year of teaching seems to be: "keep calm." Or, as a poster in my coworker's office says, "Keep calm and drink coffee." (Adapted from those WWII-era Brits, who knew what was up.)

So that's what I've been doing lately: keeping calm. And drinking a lot of coffee (and tea). And one of these candles my sister gave me for Christmas has been helping, too. It makes me think I'm strolling on a windswept beach somewhere, instead of holed up with a backlog of research papers.