S.L.J.V. - Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

My Very Own Epilogue

I opened my eyes to find a place that was new and yet so familiar.  I stood there for the longest time, just taking it all in. The crash of the familiar waves echoed through the landscape of green.  Those sounds were deafening but, oh, so pleasant.

I stepped into the sand and made my way to the ocean before me.  My husband walked beside me towards the vast body of water that was now our home.  I held my daughter, Keeva, on my hip as my feet hit the salty water, sending a fresh feeling between my toes.  My husband held the hand of our son, Killian, as they too made their way into the salty coast.

We had finally learned to live and we were living our dream.  There was no better feeling that stepping onto that beach for the first time and knowing that this is my home – I will be happy for the rest of my life.

And even though we stood there watching the sun set on this day, we knew that there was always going to be a tomorrow and we knew that we would live it to the fullest.

S.L.J.V. - Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Lesson to Live

“But you can’t leave us!  At least wait ‘til we graduate!”

“You wouldn’t do that to us!”

“But… why?”

“No one could replace you.”

“Don’t leave us with someone else…”

“Well, at least I’m graduating.”

I tested the waters today.  During my brief time of sanity with the normal ‘lunch crew’ in my art room I let it ‘slip’ that I had decided to move along.  My time here was done and it was time to move on to somewhere that would make me happy.  The kids responded as if I was dying.  It made my head swell a little bit, but at the same time it sort of made me regret even telling them.  Their reactions made all of this so much worse.  In fact, for a brief moment, I had a lapse in judgment and I believed that I was making a huge mistake.  But shaking my head, I reminded myself that it was time to live for me. 

Simply put… it was just time to live.

I had done a lot for myself in the past few months.  Succeeding in so many things gave me hope that my life wasn’t going to be one big disappointment after the other.  I wasn’t necessarily going to fail for taking a risk.  In the past couple months, I had completed a sculpture that I was proud of and I had put it in an art show.  It was a big hit with me, my husband, and my friends.  I’m not sure how everyone else reacted to it.  But then again, I didn’t give a shit.  Randomly, I had also written a book.  I was still dodging the publishers because I was afraid to bear my sole like that.  I mean, I still get embarrassed just explaining what my book is about – even though secretly I am so proud of myself.  I do intend to eventually get up enough courage to call back one of the publishers.  And if you’re reading this now – well then I’ve succeeded again.

Recently, I had been searching for an art teaching job in any school near a coastline.  And suddenly, it was like I had something to look forward to.  It was like I had cast aside the curtains in a dimly lit room and the sunlight had just come pouring in, filling me with hope and happiness.  It was time for my husband and me to begin our life together.  It was time to get unstuck, and we sure as hell were fighting against some heavy-duty superglue.  But we were breaking out the thinner because we were determined to move on.  Our dreams were waiting.  Hell, the rest of our life was waiting.

My husband and I had come a long way in the past few months.  We had learned to listen to each other and to ourselves – not all those other people.  We were tired of being told what we should and shouldn’t do based on people that had never lived for themselves.  We didn’t want to make that same mistake.  We wanted to take a risk and start living.  We wanted to start our own family and I really think that that’s what sparked the whole revelation within us.

It was decided that within the next year, we wanted to start a family.  Of course we knew that we both had always wanted children.  But as of late, it seemed like all that we talked about.  We gave ourselves a year to get our shit together and then we were going to dive on in – straight into the deep end.  And we both decided that it would be better if we had already taken our life-sized risk before another one came into our lives.  I guess maybe I was just at the point in my life where I wanted to hold a child of my own.  I wanted to be a mother.  And strangely enough, without even saying anything to my husband about it, he admitted that he was at that point in his life when he wanted to be a father. 

I guess without us realizing it, life was just beginning to run its race.  Life had reached the starting line and we were just waiting for the gunshot.

S.L.J.V. - Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

That First Taste of It

Today was a much needed change in the rage that I had been feeling at school.  The room was completely silent with the exception of calculators clicking, pages rattling, and pencils writing.  It was the last week of school before Christmas break and today was an exam day.  Given that I teach art, my exam had been days ago – which was probably a good thing given all of the snow days and delays we’d had in the last week.  So today, I’m proctoring a pre-calculus test.  I pray that they don’t have any questions, or at least they don’t expect me to know any answers because like hell I’d know anything to do with this.  Now, don’t get me wrong, when I was in high school myself, I was pretty damn smart – or at least I thought I was.  I was in a math analysis class when I was a senior, which was the top math class you could take back then.  Back then – man I say it like it was forever ago.  But I suppose, even though it doesn’t seem that long, when I think that the students I’m proctoring now where probably 10 years old – well I guess that puts it in perspective.

I’m really not sure what had happened to me since then.  I believe that maybe during college my brain moved towards the right side, embracing the creative aspect of myself.  The way I think of it is that while I was so in tune with the concept of creativity, my intelligence in the logical hemisphere dwindled severely.  But even though there are times that I feel like I’m inferior in intelligence – maybe even stupid – I think I would still rather be more creative and skillful in the arts when given the choice.  

Seriously, I wouldn’t have been able to create my Technological Singularity had it not been for my creative eye.  The greatest part is that he’s nearly complete, lacking a few minor adjustments and some technological additions.  I think I’m going to make him light up on the inside using a battery and a Christmas bulb.  Now that would be an awesome addendum.  I have 2 weeks until the art show and for once, I’m excited – even proud – to show off what I have done.  I suppose most of that is due to the fact that my husband took one look at my work and couldn’t stop going on about it.  He even went as far as to brag to his coworkers about it.  He may not realize it, but when he likes something that I’ve done my whole world tends to light up.  I don’t think he understands the power that his praise holds on me.

But with that aside, I’m proud (for once) of my accomplishments.  I’m proud that I have creating something I want to show off.  I’m just… fulfilled.  I’ve tasted success and now I crave it more than ever.

S.L.J.V. - Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Maintenance Requested

So today was the day I reached my boiling point.  Today was the last straw.  It wasn’t my choice to come back to school after Thanksgiving break, it was something I was forced to do.  But could I just come back and deal with a normal day at work?  No… I had to be greeted at 6:30 a.m. by someone pissing all over my art department.  I hadn’t even made it into the fucking door of the school yet! 

Here’s the backstory:  In the spring of last year, my advanced art class had completed a Learn and Serve project.  Basically, this was a project that would somehow serve the community, fit into my curriculum, and out of it, the kids got to go on a field trip and they would receive money to complete a project that would normally be impossible.  Trips and money are two very rare things in my school district.  And surprise – I actually go out of my way to try and give my students opportunities and experiences that they would otherwise miss out on. 

The project that we chose to do was create large sculptures for our new (and barren) school grounds using recycled materials.  It was a very successful project that spawned life-sized warriors (our mascot), over-sized wind chimes that spelled out our school initials, and a 20 foot tomahawk.  The tomahawk was the prize of the project and it was cemented into the ground outside of the school entrance, near a set of huge windows belonging to the cafeteria. 

Of course, this amazing project that the kids had worked so hard on was the subject of my anger.  As I approached the school doors, I realize that the project looks strange, like a large mass peering out of the darkness.  At first I think my eyes are playing tricks on me, that I’m still half asleep or something – after all it has been a few days since I’d been up that early.  I reach the end of the sidewalk and just stand there, dumbfounded, and I just stare that the heap of ¾” rebar, wire, and recycled items.  Somehow this massive, sturdy artwork had been rolled up into an unrecoverable pumpkin roll over the Thanksgiving break.  

Someone must have really hated me.  Someone must have really wanted revenge for something.  Someone must have had a lot of help.  And that someone must have had a truck.

I have to wait a while before the principle gets to school.  Meanwhile, I stay in my classroom, stewing, getting even more pissed with every second that goes by.  Finally when I know she has arrived, I storm to the office.  I’m shaking with rage by the time I get to her office and I ask to see the video footage from the outside cameras from over break.  I ask as calmly as I can, but it’s not hard to know when I’m fucking pissed.  Well, after a long conversation on the situation and a few attempts to recover the footage, it’s deemed that the outside cameras were down over break.  There is no way to tell who did it. 

Irony.  A cruel joke.  A sign that says ‘Get the Fuck Out as Soon as You Can!’  Whatever it is that I take it as, I go back to my classroom and slam the door.  I shut out the world until 7:30 – I wish I could shut them all out forever.

Of course, I felt angry, but it was the surge of wanting to do physical harm coursing through my body that made me pick up a hammer and take all the rage out some random pieces of metal that were sitting around my technological artwork.  I almost wanted to take it out on the artwork itself.  But I knew better.  I think that the only reason that thought even crossed my mind was the fact that I felt that this artwork held the possibility of failure. 

I hated the prospect of disappointment.  I cringed at the mere speck of not getting approval.  I was afraid to fail.  It was as simple as that.  I didn’t want to go forward for fear of setbacks.  I didn’t want to try anything new for fear of not succeeding.  Was my constant need to please everyone the only reason I was miserable myself?  Was it the assurance of doing well financially the only reason that held me here in this hellhole – keeping me from getting away from it all and starting my life?  Perhaps, it was even the fact that someone had gotten the better of me in destroying the tomahawk, making feel stupid – a failure to my students for not protecting their accomplishments.

And at that moment, I realized I was done.  Completely done with the fear of failure.  Done with my hesitant outlook on life.  Done with taking everyone else’s advice and not my own.  Done with listening to my head and not my heart. 

With that determination still coursing through my veins, I went to my desk and grabbed the neglected Art Show application that had been sitting on my desk for days.  Before I knew, the form was faxed, the endeavor was complete, and a weight was lifted.  I almost felt like I had got my revenge at that moment.  It was like the asshole that had destroyed my students’ artwork and the years of denying myself happiness had melding into one - and at that moment, I defeated both of them.  And for the first time, I felt like I was coming out of my own abyss and finally living my life – even if that feeling was only briefly relished and was suddenly interrupted by the sound of 7:30 a.m. school bell and the rush of the world intruding upon me once again.

S.L.J.V. - Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

The Little Push I Needed Came From a Freight Train

Now I know that I’m no Jade Vantishi and I’m no Airika Oishin either, but damn I felt like taking on a few of their traits and knocking some heads today.  And you know now that I think of it, maybe I’m living vicariously through my characters because we have so much in common.  Where Jade is my serious side, my strong side, the side of me that gets shit done; Airika is my fun, playful, silly side.  I suppose my personal character leans more towards Airika and my hesitation for happiness derives from Miss Vantishi.  But enough of that, back to why I’m so damn angry.

Today was the final straw in the scenario of my school system and I’m just about put over the edge.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my students, I love my classroom, I love the fact that I’m finally developing an art program that I’m proud of.  What I’m not enjoying is the fact that the administration runs in a way that screws its teachers in any way possible.  I mean come on, I’m in my third year of teaching and I’m still at a first year teacher’s salary.  If it weren’t for my husband, I would probably be on fucking food stamps with my wages.  But even that’s not enough.  No, let us put our teachers in a position where they never know if they’re going to have a job the following year.  Let’s strike the fear of unemployment into their hearts so they’ll kiss our asses for the whole year. 

They’ve kept me in that position for the last 2 years, and frankly, I am pretty damn sick of it.  And the worst part is, if they are going to lay you off, well they don’t tell you right away.  No, they wait until the last possible moment so that if you are one of the ones that gets let go you have no chance to sign on with another school – all of those positions are already filled.  To put it plain and simple:  You’re fucked.

I heard through the grapevine that this might actually be my year to go.  And I know it’s only a rumor right now, but if I wait until they make it reality, I’m completely screwed.  And I’m not waiting for that shit. I had heard that someone had been talking to so-in-so and they were told that my school district, in all of their glorious wisdom, were doing away with all of the elementary level ‘specials’ – i.e. music, gym, art, etc…  They are going to attempt to make the regular classroom teachers take care of that.  Now, this isn’t the first time that I’ve heard this proposal.  Someone had mentioned it last year when all of the layoffs were taking place, but no one could come to a compromise.  And some are probably thinking, well why am I worried?  I’m a high school art teacher, what does this have to do with me?  Here’s the thing – if that truly does happen, the elementary art teacher has many more years’ experience than I do.  She will easily bump me straight into the unemployment line.

With all of this going on, the fear and panic of the unknowing returns.  I tense up, afraid to really go for anything anymore.  One would think that this is the push I need to just jump ahead and go searching for a new job, a new location, anything to get my life going again.  But instead, I feel like I’ve been hit by a freight train.  Now that the time is here to make a move, all of those ‘what ifs’ return to my mind, making me back down in my time of resolution.

 My escalator is no longer broken – it’s now running in reverse.