How many tears do I have in me? They keep running down my cheeks. I let them. I am sad and hurt and confused. I accept these emotions. I blow my nose, wipe my eyes, take deep breaths and the tears dry up. I need to write.
Eight days ago I received a whole load of negative feedback, without a single word of positive, at work. I can't share in detail. All I can say that it was like an unexpected punch in my stomach, shaking my core, wounding my heart. I could not recognize myself in the description I heard.
I felt numb, returned to classroom and kept myself busy with helping the kids. Mindfulness and self-compassion kept me form falling apart until the day was over. Then I cried. Like a child. After a while I washed my face, straightened myself up and walked to a bookshop to meet my oldest daughter.
I was very proud of myself for having the resilience and bouncing back so quickly. I was able to spend the weekend calmly and joyfully.
"Dare" is my OLW for this year. It's almost as if life decided to throw this situation on my way to allow me to use my word. I had a choice to let the hurtful words to get to me or to do something. I chose to write a letter to stand up for myself. The letter was received but not responded to. So I still don't know whether the letter made things better or worse.
All week long I was almost fine. Not a tear. Most of the time I didn't mull over the situation. Today I sent hubby to a countryside, sorted some cupboards, deleted old photos, read "Flowers of Mold," helped my youngest to make a birthday cake for her friend. After driving her to the birthday, I returned home, sat down and suddenly the tears came uncontrollably. Alicia Keys' "Girl on Fire" played on radio.
How many tears do I have in me? They keep running down my cheeks. I let them. I am sad and hurt and confused. I accept these emotions. I blow my nose, wipe my eyes, take deep breaths and the tears dry up. I need to write. I turn to gratitude.
Here are the things I am grateful for:
Hugs from my hubby.
My students who have shown creativity and being risk-takers.
The great thinking my students have shared during read aloud discussions.
Daily mindfulness.
Friends who have listened to me with compassion.
That I have Brene Brown's books to turn to.
The silent moments of writing in class.
Awesome heart, hand, head and other detailed personal maps the students created.
The four boxes of books that the librarian allowed me to open.
The smell of new books.
A positive note from a parent.
A personal request to give a workshop to a team of teachers.
An art exhibition.
Chocolate.
A meeting with other workshop leaders.
Tweets from friends I hadn't heard from for some time.
This space.
I know who I am.
I am enough. I matter. I am daring.
I make a difference.
Oh Terje, I am shocked, as I know you were. I know that you are a great teacher from all the posts and experiences I read in your sharing all the years we read each other's words. I know that you have made a difference in many children's and parent's lives by your caring ways and expertise, and you've helped teachers grow in the way they teach, always bettering their knowledge, and helping them to feel good about new learning. As we both know when giving feedback, the way to help people (children, professionals) improve is to focus on all the good things happening and share what might work in better ways. If I could speak to that terrible, thoughtless person who gave you such feedback, I would tell her or him that they needed to go back to leadership school to learn quite a few things about leading. Sending many hugs to you, I love those last lines, exactly perfectly right!
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