Day 4: A Month of Friday's Eve, or My Life Coach Job Opportunities

I was talking with a couple of friends at the end of the school day today as one of them was explaining why May is his favorite month. “It’s warm, the days are longer, and you can enjoy it all while knowing that the entire summer is still ahead of you,” he said with great enthusiasm. “It’s like being eighteen again when you have your whole life ahead of you to enjoy! It’s not just the moment, it’s the anticipation of the coming summer! It’s like a monthlong Friday’s Eve!”

Right there he encapsulated everything about May that I love. When I realized that, I had a brief flash of crisis in realizing that if I was going to spend the entire month focusing on the negative and overthinking everything that’s built up to leave me feeling on the verge of burning out, I was going to miss the glorious springtime weather and happy anticipation that comes with the school year drawing to an end. It made a ton of difference for me to have regained that perspective, and made me wonder how great it would be to always have one person in your life who had the job of just stepping in to reframe things like that when it became necessary.

This reminded me of a story I saw in the newspaper a couple mornings ago, about what I didn’t realize was a growing trend of people hiring specialized life coaches. Apparently these people are available for nearly any area of self-improvement someone may want to pursue, although at a fairly significant cost. But who needs to pay someone $1,500 a week to help get them right when I just have to talk to a guy I know for five minutes and walk away with an improved state of mind? I felt like I just secretly took him on as a super-temporary Perspective Coach...and thinking that helped me remember a story idea I have stashed away in the vault. 

Years, YEARS ago, I had a plan for National Novel Writing Month to try writing a book with…wait for it…adult characters. In a nutshell, it was going to be about a young woman frustrated with the direction of her post-college life who wanted to make a change but didn’t know where to start. Eventually she puts together a plan: Instead of investing her no money at all into hiring a life coach, she begins examining the advice she receives from the people in her life and starts seeing patterns. As an experiment, she chooses seven people she knows, ages ranging from a pre-teen to a senior citizen, and decides to start following every bit of advice they offer her to the letter. She doesn’t tell any of them she’s doing this to keep the advice they give pure, and assigns each different person an area of her life to guide her through. (Sidebar: Yeah, another female protagonist; I actually prefer writing female characters since I can’t relate to them in any real way, which forces to me to either develop them more completely or suffer through them becoming one-dimensional place holders.)

For the record, I’ve never worked with, or even considered working with, or doubt I will ever be moved to hire, a life coach. I’ve worked with several instructional coaches assigned to my school over the past fifteen years or so, which has been a mixed bag of experiences. But if there was someone out there I knew I could trust to guide me down the righteous path of self-improvement? What might be the harm (other than thousands of dollars thrown away)? So with all of this business spinning around in my head while I was driving home tonight, I began to wonder: If I were to collect a team of life coaches like that, either directly or anonymously, what areas would I want to work on? What are my gaps, or my deficiencies, or my failings, and are any of them salvageable? I came up with a short list of who I’d need on my team, and why: 

*Driving Coach: I’m really a pretty good driver. Generally aware of my surroundings, very conscientious about observing posted speed limits and following all traffic laws. But once I get into the city and there are so many signs and cars and flashing lights and people and arrows pointing God alone knows where, any remnants of the attention deficit that defined my childhood kicks in and overstimulates me into inventing reasons that will quadruple whatever level of anxiety I might already be feeling. 

*Cooking Coach: If I can take something frozen from a box and heat it up in the oven instead of the microwave, I basically feel like I'm the champion of the world. Anything beyond that and I’m pretty much out of my element. 

*Social Networking Coach: I feel I’ve got Facebook figured out, and I’m getting closer on Twitter. Instagram is fairly easy for the little I use it, and I know enough about blogging to get YOU to follow the link that led to your reading this post, didn't I? That’s all fine and good for now, but when I look at other people in the writing community, I feel like my online presence is just slightly below negligible. I’m quietly hoping that if writing takes off and my internet footprint becomes more important, people will either see me as some mysterious and enigmatic figure that no one knows too much about, or they'll be thinking like, “OH, right. Him. Yeah, well, he is in his 40s, after all, and you know, technology and THAT age group. He probably spends more time thinking about his prostate than his hit count.”

*Dating Coach: Admittedly, this might be a lost cause.

*Male-Bonding Small Talk Coach: You know that time when a bunch of guys who don’t really know each other congregate at some social event, usually in a garage, because they want a safe place where they don’t have to talk to anyone about anything personal and can just drink beer and grunt? They tend to stick to the same four or five topics, and will share their opinions on these topics at safe, non-controversial levels (unless extra beer is involved). Those four or five topics? I honestly couldn’t care less about any of them, so I’ll wind up standing there spilt between hoping I’ll die soon or wishing there were some women in the room who might make the conversation even slightly more interesting.

*Travel Coach: Some people travel alone really well. I’m not one of them. If I’m not traveling with someone, or on my way to see someone, I fail to see legitimate reasons for letting my home sit unsupervised for days on end. There are a lot of places I’d like to visit and things I’d like to see and experience, but I just need to know how anyone can do this on their own.

*Single Life Domesticity Approximation Coach: I go to my sister’s house, and it’s a house. It’s planned out comfortably, attractively, and efficiently. It’s got decor, and plants, and dogs, and stuff, and it feels like a place where people live. I come home to my house and it feels like an overly-intentional set design for a play. My sister: “I’d like a gas fire pit for my patio, and therefore we shall buy one today.” Me: “I’m going to consider the pros and cons of buying new blinds for the kitchen, and then I’ll think about it for three months, and then I’ll take another month to decide I’m going to actually look at what’s available and start pricing some, and then….”

*Minnesota Coach: I’ve lived in Minnesota my entire life. It really seems like there’s a lot of it I haven’t seen or experienced. 

*Procrastination Coach: True story: After finishing my taxes last month (yes, in April), I filled up a grocery bag with old papers and junk mail and the like that I wanted to sort and decide what I should save and shred and so on. I took this grocery bag and dumped it out on the living room floor behind my love seat, which put it in plain sight every time I walked into the living room but would never be directly in my walking path. I figured that pile of stuff would eventually remind me to sort it out and look it over. Three weeks later I found out my parents were dropping off their dogs for the weekend, so I picked it all back up and put it back in the bag and put the bag in my office, where it is currently sitting on floor, still untouched, four feet behind me as I write this.

*Fashion Coach: This is nothing short of tragic. I have a few small things I can do right (or, more accurately, don't miserably fail at), but overall, no. Just no. I might be beyond hope.

And this is just the short list of things that came from ten minutes of thinking. Any volunteers want to fix me? I might not say no. Or, I might just start paying really close attention to what you tell me I should do without you ever knowing….

Day 3: Not Just National Fill in the Blank Day

I hesitate to start like this because I know how easily it could be interpreted as complaining, but I really think Teacher Appreciation Day is a bit of a joke. Can it be said that true appreciation exists if there needs to be a national reminder to express it? There are absolutely people out there who see Teacher Appreciation Day as having equal importance to things like Dance Like a Chicken Day, or Burrito Day, or Public Sleeping Day. There are also absolutely people out there who are baffled how teachers need a special day to be recognized for their efforts. After all, aren't those teachers and their unions and their summers off some of the main reasons our society is slowly crumbling into dust?

It’s totally true that, in my role as a teacher, I spend about 99.543% of the time feeling completely unappreciated. Generally I’m fine with this. As long as my paychecks continue to clear, I’m good. I’m fine with not receiving basketfuls of well-intended yet perfectly perfunctory Pinterest platitudes (I’m not really that bitter; that’s just a quick Teacher Appreciation shout-out to people who enjoy alliteration and yet also know how much I truly detest it). Nearly any teacher appreciation gift reminds me too much of a student I had just a couple of years ago, who came up to my desk on the last day before winter break, set down a wrapped present and said “My mom wanted me to give you this,” then turned and walked away without another word, his responsibilities having been fulfilled.

The simple truth of it is that (if I can be allowed a high-horse moment) the only people in our society who have any true understanding of exactly how hard of a job teaching is are the teachers themselves. It’s a lot like trying to play Whack-a-Mole on a giant rotating Rubik’s cube with salt water in your eyes and an ever-increasing crowd watching and waiting for you to miss. But, generally, I’m fine with this. Since there’s nothing I can do to change this perception, it’s easier to just accept it as the way things are. Of course there are several moments when I’m much less nonchalant and much more frustrated about it all, and this frustration can absolutely be a contributing factor to the burn out that so many teachers — including me — are at the risk of facing. But this is okay. Because there are always moments of true appreciation that come along, and they tend to make everything worthwhile.

Today my total haul for Teacher Appreciation Day was one handmade notebook paper card, from a girl in my afternoon class who had a few of her friends sign it. But she chose to take the time to do this (even if I’m pretty sure part of the reason she made the card is because she just can't stop drawing). There was also a card I received years ago, that had some gift card tucked inside of it but included a simple message that stuck with me: “Thank you for taking care of our daughter.” There was another card from parents thanking me for bringing their daughter out of her shell. Her mother had talked to me at Open House, specifically concerned that her daughter was so quiet and so easy for teachers to overlook, and she didn't want to see that happen. I made it my mission to be sure it didn't, and she was a different person by the end of 5th grade. 

I’ll also admit it’s nice to see former students working their ways into the coming generations of teaching ranks, and knowing that I had some kind impact on them when they were mine, whether it’s because they still remember the books I had read to them in class, or stay in touch after more than a decade later, or because someday I might get a message like this out of nowhere from one of them: 

“I can’t remember if I told you this, but appreciation has become exceedingly clear the more I teach, due to its extreme absence. I just wanted to tell you that you are the reason I became a teacher. You taught me to love reading and writing, even at such a young age. Keep doing what you’re doing. You’re an amazing teacher, and I’ll always cite you as the reason for my passion and profession.”

Seriously. I got the message one day. Trust me, a sentiment like that offered genuinely is worth more than 5,000 apple-shaped pads of sticky notes.

Day 2: The Astonishing

Music is very important to me, which should be clear to even the most casual readers of ‘Summer Vacation.’ Different people have different interests and passions, and music is one of mine. One of my all-time favorite bands is progressive rock titans Dream Theater.  Seemingly hyperbolic labels such as “progressive rock titans” are usually included when Dream Theater is mentioned online or in print, because they're so far out of the mainstream even after more than thirty years of existence that most people have little to no idea who they are. Mostly this is because they are far too awesome for the dementedly generic post-millennial over-produced playlist that 21st century radio has become. Plus, since Dream Theater’s songs probably average somewhere near twelve minutes in length, they’ve never exactly been radio friendly. Suffice it to say this is a band of rock musicians who perform with such aggressive virtuosity that each member of the band is arguably one of the best at his respective instrument playing today, if not ever. As you’d expect, that level of musicianship translates into their music, which is so carefully constructed that for many pieces it isn’t enough to call them mere songs, but more accurately compositions, and compositions with a degree of mastery that require such things as their drummer occasionally playing in one time signature with the right side of his body and a different one with his left. Being the music nerd I am, I love that kind of thing. 

They’re currently touring to support their most recent album, a two-hour-plus rock opera called “The Astonishing,” which was released this past winter. For at least this leg of the tour, they’ve put aside their entire back catalog to play through this new release from beginning to end to preserve the continuity of the storyline. This was the second time I’ve seen them flawlessly play through an entire album live, which they also did the first time I saw them back in 2000, when they played through what is probably still today my all-time favorite album. The show I saw them at last night was the eighth time I’ve seen them perform, and it was a perfect time for me to see them.

You see, Sundays aren’t really good for me right now. Saturday is a nice respite in the week from anything school related that might be threatening to burn me out, but on Sunday morning I’m immediately aware of how all of it is only one day away from starting back up, and then I have the rest of the day to think about it and feel it approaching. I don’t mean to make going back to school on Monday sound like some kind of a horror movie, but when you’re all too aware of the toll something is taking on you, usually it seems the anticipation of getting back to it is even worse than actually returning. Because of this, I spent most of the day more aware of the concert being that night than looking forward to it. I knew once I got there it would all become real and I’d get excited, but most of the day I wasn’t there yet.

My sister Jenny bought our tickets the day they went on sale, so we ended up with great seats, in the front part of the balcony where we could see the stage in full view without having to worry about some 6’ 9” headbanger standing in front of us the whole time.

I bought a tour shirt on the way in, because of course I did. The show started more or less on time, and it really was incredible — seeing the story play out on the video screens behind the stage, hearing so many songs I’ve connected with, watching these musicians that I’ve followed so closely and listened to for so long it was almost like seeing old friends again. It was a great show and a great night.

Recently I heard someone say how they didn’t understand why simply hearing a song was enough to make a person cry. I can’t relate to that mindset at all. If you’re unable to find the intangible quality of music that makes it live inside of you and touches you at a primordial level, I just don’t get you. Last night I heard an album played straight through in its two-plus hours entirety, which I’ve already listened to repeatedly in recent months, and there were tears all over my face at least three different times. It came from how perfect the songs were, and how skillfully they were played, and because of what they’ve come to mean to me, and because I was seeing and hearing them performed by the people who created them. 

By the time the show was over and we were on our way home, I was in a much better mood. I felt I had just witnessed something much bigger and greater than my own collection of problems and complaints. I witnessed some of the music I love happen at the highest level of proficiency. In a very real way, I felt I had experienced a kind of healing. It stayed with me long enough to carry over into this morning; I’m not saying I hopped out of bed on a Monday morning ready to attack the day, but I was at least ready for it and openly willing to participate. On some days, especially those godforsaken Mondays, that’s more than enough.

Music can be the entertainment on a fun night out, but sometimes it can also be much more. It’s something that can permeate our lives so thoroughly that the songs and the feelings they inspire stay with us like ever-present companions, always at the ready to step in and help us put the events of our lives into a proper perspective. It can provide an escape, or existential healing, or help us pull back from feelings of burn out and realize that we might actually be more on top of things than we think we are.

Most importantly of all though, as it’s labeled in “The Astonishing” and addressed so strongly throughout the storyline of the album, music can be a gift.