August without School Bells

People keep asking me if I have fun plans when school starts in a couple of days. I don’t know how to answer that. I haven’t given going back to school much thought. I know I spent around fifty years of my life getting ready for the school year to start, but it honestly feels pretty far from my mind.

I did teach a class called “Siege” at the museum to elementary age kids. It was a small group and we studied Leonardo DaVinci’s designs around bridges, catapults, and tanks and tried to design our own versions. It was fun and I enjoyed the experience. It did not make me want to go back in the classroom. If anything, it solidified my absolute conviction that I made the right decision. I realized that the creativity it takes to be innovative in the classroom depletes my creativity for my own projects.

Speaking of my own projects. I am still learning stained glass. I did an address panel and I learned a lot in the process. I drove the panel out to Nebraska to drop it off.

Usually the road is a place of freedom for me. I turn up the radio and just marvel at the beauty of the incredible landscape in this country. This time however, it was a different experience. I really struggled to stay awake. I had a flat tire, got off course, and couldn’t stay on a schedule. Instead of finding peace, my mind couldn’t turn off about what comes next for me.

The two promises I made to myself when I retired were to be healthier in my mind, body, and spirit. And to take my writing more seriously. I think I started off well on that course, but then hijacked myself by getting a job. The job itself is not hard and sometimes it is fun, but being “on” wears me out and I don’t love driving to Pueblo. I thought about quitting, but am holding off for a little longer. Maybe if I really keep the hours to part-time and double down on my goals, it will be okay.

I am still working on my memoir. It’s kind of tough because memoirs are focused on a particular aspect of life. I have had so many things happen that it has been a journey to sort out the story that I want to tell. I am getting there.

I have always wanted to write a comic strip. I guess I kind of tried a little with Charlie, my cat, but that was also when I found out he had cancer and I just couldn’t write about him anymore. I have been playing with the idea of “Storm.” A comic loosely based on my son and his dog. I think the concept of schizophrenia and a pit bull emotional support animal is intriguing. Both are misunderstood and vastly more complicated than usually portrayed. But now that I have started, I am not sure it’s fair for me to write about the voices. I have no idea what it is like to live with them in my head. I only know what it is like to watch them torture someone I love. It’s not really a subject to exploit. But I am still playing with the idea of a comic strip tbough. Maybe in drawing it, it will find its way to what it is supposed to be.

For so long August meant preparing to teach. Lesson plans. Class lists. New pencils. New students. Now August is asking a different question: What do I want to learn? What do I want to create?

I don’t have all the answers yet. I know I want to write. I know I want to create. I know I want to be healthier in my mind, body, and spirit. I know I don’t want to spend all my creativity on other people, before I get home.

Maybe the comic strip will become something meaningful. Maybe it won’t. Maybe the museum job will stay, or maybe it will become another stepping stone. For the first time in a very long time, I don’t have a syllabus telling me what comes next.

That uncertainty is unsettling. But it also feels like possibility. And after fifty plus years of living by the school calendar, I think it’s fair to tear the pages up and let the wind take them.