There have been many times in my life where opportunity comes knocking, even slaps me upside the head, and I don’t even notice. Maybe there’s something wrong with the method of delivery.

Not many days ago, perhaps a week, I posted a picture on Facebook of a door with the message of opportunity. Pretty colorful door. I’ve been trying to teach myself the signs of a knock, what it may look like instead of what it may feel like. I’ve been on the lookout.

A day after my posting, I didn’t get a job that I really thought I wanted. I convinced myself that this round, I would be able to “handle” seventh graders. Everything was great. The majority of the staff and I meshed. I was so excited that I started creating lesson plans for years to come. I had taken the bait I fed myself hook, line and sinker. I really convinced myself that this would be my forever job and I was ready to get a tiger tat to pledge my loyalty. I even got these gumby-like tiger twistable things that were going to make great gadgets for the fidgiters in the class, including myself. When I teach, I have to always have something in my hand. I would have stools planted all over the room as I paced and walked the room.

There was one teaching evaluation I got from a boss that only visited the classroom once a year or sometimes less, and he said that I needed to get away from my desk more. My first pair of boots wore out I did so much walking, and I’m not just talking FTX or parades, but just cruising the classroom. (Cruising isn’t quite the fit, but sometimes Alliteration trumps word choice.)

Anyway, after being told that I wasn’t the  right fit for this small middle school, though there weren’t specifics to justify his choice, except that the guy was a better match, It didn’t take me long to realize how right he was. I should send him a thank you letter. I would have been miserable. I would have been stressed out every day. The days would have been endless. I’m not convinced this is true as my instincts were telling me that once I donned my monkey hat, I had established a working relationship with the kids. for the most of them, I really felt a connection. But, I will admit, that I’m extremely good at flat out lying to myself. I’m so good at faking myself out about what I really want that the sales pitch is unbeatable. Once when I was living in a studio apartment with my partner, I almost bought a set of encyclopedias; it would have taken up half of the apartment. I can be gullible.

Immediately after not getting onto the horrendous roller coaster ride in J.C., I worked with second graders. Three different schools. Talk about ways to heal my heart. I had taken a day off to recharge my batteries after the seventh graders because two days just doesn’t do it anymore. After working with the young uns, I didn’t have to take a day off. I was ready to keep going and not even have a weekend.

This week hasn’t been as smooth. I had another pe opportunity with grade school kids. For the most part, it was a delight. I had so much fun playing and singing with them, but there were a couple of butt heads. Mostly fifth graders who have developed the middle school mentality that I know everything and you don’t know anything. Mostly what was getting me mad was the lack of respect the kids had for each other. I’m still talking only a slight minority of kids. I pointed out the sign of no bullying several times; there was one class that was so horrific, telling others they were stupid or too slow and really convinced that they were only saying words of encouragement. This one girl was in tears after being told by boys that she wasn’t good at basketball. She had never played basketball before, but these two so-close-to-the NBA superstars, had to tell her the truth. After a few of these squabbles, a boy being proud that he could steal a ball away from a younger girl and actually trash talk her. I think my discussion and talk fell on deaf ears. I was shocked.

This blog now takes a radical turn off the beaten path. I’ve been rambling on about opportunities. Today I dropped off my resume to a used and new bookstore in Eugene. I hadn’t realize what  powerful dream this would be. I love teaching, but the ten years have been trying. Getting this job would be such a change for me, a change that’s really important. Prayers. Wishes. Positive Energy. Today I was extremely helpful and friendly to everyone around me. Karma points can’t hurt. One woman thought I was opening the door for her because she was older than I, but I am constantly fighting with men over holding the door for them. Can you relate?

A few days ago, or so, I started reading Elizabeth Engstrom’s book Lizzie Borden. It’s been waiting patiently for me to read for a dozen years. I saw her at the Writer’s Conference last year. I had such a fantastic time. I don’t think I can go this year as I’ve got to save money for a trip to Europe in May. I’m so excited. I’ve never been. Sorry for the whiplash bends in thought direction. This must be my peculiar mode of writing.

The other day a friend of mine told me that my writing was peculiar, at least that’s what her partner said. My friend thought that perhaps I was nervous as I was writing to a published author and I must have felt nervous or apprehensive. Never crossed my mind to feel that way. I still haven’t quite figured out whether being a peculiar writer is good or bad and am trying to decide that it could be a neutral trait or perhaps a comment without judgment of good or bad. That’s a possibility.

I think it’s time to turn to the novel and get ready for tomorrow’s roller coaster ride if a sub job comes my way. Meanwhile, keep those positive vibes humming that I’ll get a job at Tsunami Books in Eugene. I better not have jinxed myself.


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