A Reserved Presence is Often Linked to a Vehement Mind

Not everyone is emboldened to take a stand. Confident enough to speak their mind. Not everyone feels they have the right to. So many of us, remain reserved and quiet. It is where we feel comfortable and safe. I know it is where I am usually found, in the background listening. But, sometimes we have to speak up- for many of us though, we just haven't found our voice yet. This is a story I know will be familiar to some. I am hoping by sharing it, that I inspire others, who may feel like the can't or shouldn't be able to speak their mind, will find their strength to do so. Everyone has something important to say, their time, feelings, and spirit matters. Be kind, be mindful, be respectful and help everyone find their steady voice, this is how respect overshadow's negativity.

When Reserved Gets Angry

I think maybe why I am so quiet most of the time, is that I hate conflict. I mean I really just want everyone to be happy. At the first sign of contention, I buckle. Often leading, as my husband tells me frequently, other people to take advantage of me. I hate being aggressive or pushy and I think it shows. So when I ask nicely, many adults smile and agree, but then ignore my request. Students, they see me as someone they can trust and they respect my authority, but adults are another matter. 

This week a few things happened to reinforce this in my mind. One, because I felt I couldn't be pushy, lead me to get frustrated and as a result, a bit testy. I verbally had to speak up so that a group of adults would listen. This of course made me feel and look like the bad guy, which I wasn't. All I can say upon reflection is - leave on time please and be respectful. This sounds easy for many people, just tell them to leave, my husband said. But, to me, there were so many adults and my voice just caved. They were aware of my trepidation, its happened before and thus, they overstayed their welcome.

I know I need to take a stand and be more direct and persistent in my interactions, I am working on it. But yesterday, still stings. It is a heavy feeling to know I have to be aggressive to get something to happen. Somewhere along the way, in my life, I convinced myself I am replaceable, I do not deserve the respect others receive. This in turn comes off as, I am a pushover and won't defend myself. I know this is why my reserved presence has taken shape. Why my mind is busy all the time because it overshadows my doubts and insecurities.

I am afraid to make people upset, and as a result they get to take the lead. I need to keep my mindful approach but be more boisterous, make sure that adults see that I have a voice and an opinion. I just haven't found my strength to do it more often yet, in a mindful way that other adults will listen to. Just as I am about to respond in a witty banter, or smile and justify my point-of-view, I am full of fear and the moment passes. Yesterday, I tried very hard, but I had to get angry first. Then I went in to a tail spin and it is still oscillating. 

Earlier this week, another situation happened, but I took my usual course, mindfulness and calm. So, it didn't bother me, it actually made me more sympathetic.

A Reserved Presence

I have to admit, that frequently, I make it through a school day, without speaking in length, to another adult, is that bad?  I teach and interact with my students, I eat lunch in my room, listening to Spotify, I have a club after-school and then I exit the building. Now, this does not mean I don't say "Hello," in the hallway. I just don't have long drawn out conversations with people, on most days. I know this about myself and on a good day, when I am feeling chatty, I force myself to walk down the hall and start talking to a colleague. But, most days, I am quiet and introspective. My mind constantly designing, editing and reformulating my lesson plans. I am literally "in my head," the greater part of the day.

I have always been an introvert, self-reliant and self-contained, even as a child. Being bullied, I just created my own 'imaginary friends.' They were always there, an audience created for one. Audience in Latin, literally means listen, so my perfect companions, made the best cohort for me to talk things through with and my Dyslexia needed an outlet. The world is a very noisy place and in order for my thoughts to make sense I need to isolate myself a bit. So this is what I tend to do, even as an adult.

Of course, now, I no longer have' imaginary friends,' but the same character trait still exists: I like to think things through, embrace the quiet and just let my thoughts guide me. I have never been popular, trendy or famous. No one ever comes to my classroom just to talk, other than my students. I don't feel unaccepted or disliked, but maybe a little misunderstood. This I know, at least a little bit, is my fault, because I choose to stay more on the outskirts, on my own trail, not with a megaphone, but with headphones. It is the only way I know how to be.

An Eye Opener Keeps Me Focused

Earlier this week, I had a few things to deliver to my students in other classrooms. So at the end of my planning period, I ventured out to two classrooms to deliver them. As I approached the first classroom, I peeked in the window to make sure the class wouldn't be disturbed and I knocked on the door. Our classroom doors remain locked during the day and thus travelling from room to room requires a key or a knock. As I entered, the room, the teacher was walking around and helping students, so I quietly walked up to her. The teacher greeted me, and I asked if I could give something to a student. She smiled and said of course. This prompted students to greet me too. They smiled and in unison, began to shout out hellos and salutations. I handed my student the item and then turned to leave, thanking the teacher and apologizing for any disruption. She replied, "Not at all, we love visitors. Have a great day Mrs. CJ." I left with a smile. This by the way, is how I greet visitors to my classroom.

The next classroom was two doors down. As I approached it, another teacher was entering the room, they had a key. They let the door close, not noticing me as I walked up to the door. I peered through the window. The class remained focused on their assignment, undisturbed, as the second teacher joined the classroom teacher behind their desk. I paused and after seeing the two strike up a conversation, I knocked on the door. A student opened it saying with excitement "Hey, Mrs. CJ." I greeted them back. Then the classroom erupted with various greetings and high-fives- I slapped a few fist bumps as I made my way to the front of the room.

The two teachers looked at me with disgust. If they had spoken something aloud, at that moment, it would have been "These popular teachers, so rude to come in here and be welcomed by these students." Instead, the classroom teacher said, "How can I help you Mrs. CJ?" In response, a little intimidated, if I say so myself, I said "Can I give this to a student?" She glared at me. "No, I will take it and they can get it at the end of class." I slowly walked over to her desk and set it down. Then I started backing out of the room. ”Thank you," I said as I neared the door. Students got quiet for a moment. Observing, anticipating some kind of response from me, other than thank you. But I smiled. Waved at them and they broke out in good byes and see you later's. Which spurred a comment from the two standing in the front of the room, loud enough for me to hear.

Now, at this point I must explain a few things: one of these teachers is what I call a resting witch face teacher, they are seriously scowling all the time- so I think students do not quite know how to relate to them. The other is the IC of their department and you could tell, did not want to be there. The class was not focused on anything in particular- it was the last five minutes of class and they were beginning to pack up. It felt a lot more awkward than it should have.

Back to the comment. "Well it is clear now what type of teacher these students actually like." one of them said. The other responded, "It must be nice to be a 'popular' teacher."

I was shocked for so many reasons. One, me popular, seriously. I hate the word popular. I have never been popular, trendy or famous, as I mentioned earlier. In this moment, I was deprived of it, even if I had wanted it. Which I didn’t, popularity and trends come and go. They pass with the click of a Tweet. I want no part of that. I would prefer to be endearing and respected. At that moment, students turned boisterous. A friendly reaction transformed into a parsimonious incursion. In hind sight, I should have had a witty banter to toss back at them. I know my students were counting on one. But, instead, my quiet, reclusive demeanor just smiled and repeated, "Thank you, sorry for the disturbance."

Reserved Keeps You Mindful and It Shows

But my students, they took offense and said in my defense "We love you Mrs. CJ," and "We were packing up anyway so you didn't disturb us at all." and as the door was closing I heard the classroom teacher say "It disturbed me." As I walked back to my room, I pondered that comment. I could have gotten angry or defensive but, I didn't. I took it as a compliment. A challenge. A reminder that this is why I do not seek out conversations with other adults in my building. 

This is why my peaceful, positive, reserved classroom is my safe haven. A place without judgment. A venue for free expression and independent thinking. A locale not of envy or antagonism but of pride and acceptance. A classroom has revolving doors, as much as we keep them closed, we need to remember that as adventurers enter and leave our stomping ground, that they take with them a little piece of us. If it is a memory of kindness and optimism. They will see us and have a fondness in their hearts. But, if it is a recollection of parsimony and pettiness, these same students will be reluctant to trust and in turn they will be weary and jaded in our presence. It is so important, that every encounter we have with our students is a positive one. That every exchange is meaningful and mindful. When they are, when we enter a room students are happy to see us, they want to let us know they appreciate us. When they aren't, they become complacent and this complacency is what hinders learning, halts relationships and hampers a positive school culture.

This is one of my favorite sayings- when I get stressed, I repeat it to myself and say Walt Disney had to be boisterous, he had opinions and let them be known. This man, he created the "Happiest Place on Earth."

Around here, we don’t look backwards for very long… We keep moving forward, opening up new doors and doing new things because we’re curious… and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.-Walt Disney

Forces Balanced: A Brief Story of Realignment

There was a gnat buzzing, appearing and disappearing, in the glare of the early afternoon sun. Swat…swat… then another one joined in the rebellion. It was a minute event, infinitesimal in the scheme of things, but it was the beginning of the rip, the tear in the fabric. A sound once distant, got louder, more distinctive, as it pushed away the voices nearby. It was a concentrated noise, drawing every inch of her consciousness, to a centered, focal point.

It was a tone, high pitched enough that she felt aligned with the pack of neighborhood dogs, as they wandered down the street. Even they paused and looked around, just as the sound reached her ears. Funny how a simple noise can suddenly unite, even if for a split second. The dogs picked up their pace, the gnats found other organisms to encircle and she, well she remained still, so still in fact that, she forgot she was alive. Every ounce of her being felt connected, blended, whole with the universe. Atoms merged, energy collided, forces balanced.

An orange tabby cat peered out from behind a nearby bush. The fur on his tail was fluffed, something had spooked him. He stepped out into the sunlight, but quickly, second guessed himself and retreated into the shadows. She remained motionless, inanimate, feeling like she too had to take cover at any moment. She chose however, to be stationary, unassuming, so she could determine the cause of her trepidation. The root of disharmony. Nothing happened immediately. It was several minutes before anything of importance occurred at all. Her nerves had settled, and she forgot about the humming, just long enough to let her guard down. The fabric began to separate.

The warmth of the sun felt nice. She rarely sat outside, grass gave her a rash. But today, of all days, she was reading outside. It was a quiet neighborhood and inside seemed so loud and distracting today. The buzz of electricity, the hum of the fans. The walls seemed to have a voice, creaking and stretching from the late summer heat. The windows were shiny, almost blinding, even with the shades pulled. Everything was in sync within the house, every angle nudging her outside, but she didn’t know why. All she knew, looking back on it now, was that something lured her outside and her house knew what she needed most. So, there she sat, itchy legs from the fresh mowed lawn, watching insects fly, cats hide, dogs wander and hearing the most peculiar of notes. The fabric vibrated.

The turbulence was not loud, most people who were out and about, didn’t even appear to hear it. Yet, they seemed to be in a deliberate daze. Like they too were lured outside, and they hadn’t quite figured out why. Some stood in their drive ways debating whether to wash their car. Children were kicking around a ball, not really playing, but more running through the motions of playing. Their smiles were genuine, but their faces almost looked as if they were being pulled upwards, by invisible strings. She continued to remain steadfast, spellbound by the merging of real life and science-fiction. It appeared real enough, to almost anyone else, it would play out like any other day. But to her, something was amiss: Missing cohesion, missing alignment, missing density. She closed her eyes, focusing on one thing, her breath. In, out, in out. Her heart beat slowed its pace. The fabric softened.

She decided to move, at last, slowly, ghost-like. Everything appeared intangible, distant, tenuous. She stood, the ground felt ethereal, like she was floating. Colors seemed brighter, more defined. Edges once unnoticeable, darkened making everything look traced, outlined. She reached out for the leaves of the bush, where the orange tabby was still hidden beneath. The leaves felt solid, but appeared to her mind at least, to be more important somehow than just mere structures for photosynthesis. Their edges, pushing the background and pulling the foreground. Like there was a shift in placement, even though they never moved an inch. There was a transport of energy, a connection to nature she never felt before. Fabric sewn into tapestry.

She crossed the lawn, every blade of grass was telling a story, an infinitesimal story. They seemed to be repairing some rip or tear that formed in the fabric, each a tiny thread, wrapping around one another until there was an appearance of normalcy. She paused, wiggled her toes, allowing the wetness to coat the bottom of her feet. That sensation she remembered. The rash on her legs became less itchy. The sun less blinding. The pause button seemed to be undone and the ripples faded leaving science-fiction behind. Bringing real life back up to full speed.

The tactile vibration of the focusing noise lingered, but the audible vibration disappeared, and giggles sharpened, as the children across the street became noticeable.  The buzzing of the gnat returned. Swat…swat, to no avail and another one joined in the rebellion. The green door, her front door, seemed to lure her back inside. The concrete howled from the heat of the sun. The trees creaked and stretched in the late summer breeze. Even the wind seemed to be nudging her back inside. The door knob glistened, she turned it and the shadow of inside swallowed her whole. But the vibration remains.