The Time In Between
I don't think any Sontag experience has ever put me through the wringer like this one.
Right after leaving on Friday, I fished out all of my workout clothes and drove to the nearest TJ Maxx (in North Andover, interestingly enough) for a new towel. I made a beeline for the nearest YMCA (in Andover; maybe I was just subconsciously trying my damnedest to get out of Lawrence), checked in, changed, and lifted.
Lifting has become this strange refuge for me. Two years ago, I gave up the pursuit of marathoning in favor of learning powerlifting, and I've welcomed the change. There was something refreshing in the idea of being a novice lifter; I had lifted on machines before, but never the massive plates and barbells that came with powerlifting. I learned quickly and love it, which is admittedly counterintuitive; who actually enjoys the torture of that much weight?
I got my rage and anger out with a bar. I lifted away every "Jesus, Mister," and every "I'm tired, Mister," and every "no, Mister," and every shriek and whine and complaint. I lifted away the moment when I was forced out of my room because a belligerent student wouldn't leave (more on that later). I lifted away the frustration of students who wouldn't work. I lifted away the fear that my last Sontag journey would be my last because I couldn't make kids work. I lifted it all away.
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To say that I feel like this year was an abject failure is a gross understatement. Not only did I not accomplish what I had hoped to accomplish, but the ultimate goal of moving my kids closer to graduation seems like a pie in the sky.
On Thursday, I walked around the building and observed the artwork. There are tons of murals hanging at Lawrence High School, and I figured that, if this was to indeed be my last year, I wanted to appreciate what was hanging in the halls. "We have a lot of talented kids, Mister," my future nurse (or now, future dental hygienist) said as I walked the halls on Wednesday.
It is wonderful to know that artwork still inspires and binds, no matter where you go.
I'll be writing about my last two days next, but for now, enjoy what is hanging in the halls at LHS.
Right after leaving on Friday, I fished out all of my workout clothes and drove to the nearest TJ Maxx (in North Andover, interestingly enough) for a new towel. I made a beeline for the nearest YMCA (in Andover; maybe I was just subconsciously trying my damnedest to get out of Lawrence), checked in, changed, and lifted.
Lifting has become this strange refuge for me. Two years ago, I gave up the pursuit of marathoning in favor of learning powerlifting, and I've welcomed the change. There was something refreshing in the idea of being a novice lifter; I had lifted on machines before, but never the massive plates and barbells that came with powerlifting. I learned quickly and love it, which is admittedly counterintuitive; who actually enjoys the torture of that much weight?
I got my rage and anger out with a bar. I lifted away every "Jesus, Mister," and every "I'm tired, Mister," and every "no, Mister," and every shriek and whine and complaint. I lifted away the moment when I was forced out of my room because a belligerent student wouldn't leave (more on that later). I lifted away the frustration of students who wouldn't work. I lifted away the fear that my last Sontag journey would be my last because I couldn't make kids work. I lifted it all away.
-------------------------
To say that I feel like this year was an abject failure is a gross understatement. Not only did I not accomplish what I had hoped to accomplish, but the ultimate goal of moving my kids closer to graduation seems like a pie in the sky.
On Thursday, I walked around the building and observed the artwork. There are tons of murals hanging at Lawrence High School, and I figured that, if this was to indeed be my last year, I wanted to appreciate what was hanging in the halls. "We have a lot of talented kids, Mister," my future nurse (or now, future dental hygienist) said as I walked the halls on Wednesday.
It is wonderful to know that artwork still inspires and binds, no matter where you go.
I'll be writing about my last two days next, but for now, enjoy what is hanging in the halls at LHS.
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