Sunday, May 11, 2014
Frantically writing lesson plans on Friday afternoon before a meeting with the principal paid off in a big way this weekend. This was maybe the first weekend since I started teaching that I felt like I was doing things I love, not just bingeing on Netflix in an effort to hurry up and relax.
This morning George and I drove way too far away to find dry ice for my students tomorrow, and happened upon some seriously on sale strawberries. All I had to say was, “Freezer jam?” and the next thing I knew we were driving back to Rogers Park with an absurd amount of strawberries, some pectin, and super cool plastic Ball jars.
George had to leave mid-jam-making for lunch with his grandmother, so I was left in the kitchen stirring strawberries when it hit me: it was mother’s day and I was doing something that I used to do with my grandma and mom every year. This feeling of comfort just washed over me, and I knew that my grandmother would be proud of the way I live my life. The jam-making ritual felt very symbolic of following the steps of two incredibly strong, compassionate, loving women.
I have been so lucky to be surrounded by independent women my whole life. Women who taught me to be poised and practical, calm and confident. And they taught me all of that without my even knowing. They taught me while teaching me to bake and harmonize and apologize and write a letter and find an encyclopedia entry.
It’s pretty important to be reminded of those women and their lessons frequently, and today I’m so thankful for them. Especially for my momma, without whom I’d be pretty darn directionless.