Cupcake Cones and Appreciating Entropy

Cups with varying levels of water litter the sink, dirty clothes spill out of the hamper, and shoes rarely make their way to the rack under our bed.  While I value cleanliness and order, fatigue and an impetuous desire for time with my husband overwhelm the clamor of the clutter, especially during the week.

However, when guests are expected, somehow clean cups teleport into the cabinets, shoes scramble beneath the bed, and Tide-scented shirts populate the formerly empty hangers in our closets.

Our guests receive the Facebook version of our lives- polished, Tide-scented, serene, and fictitious.

Two years ago, after an emotionally poignant argument with Glenn, I arrived unannounced at one of my closest friend's apartments.  I have a key, so I entered unannounced.  Clothes were scattered across the living room, dishes littered the table, and the bed covers were tousled and thrown around the bedroom.

She was incredibly embarrassed, while I found her mess strangely consoling.

While social media is a wonderful tool for maintaining contact with distant friends and family, it is also cruel in its distortion of reality.  Life is not polished, Tide-scented, and serene.  Many times, real life is more like a failed Pinterest project.

Last year, an amazing teacher spoke at our county's commencement ceremony.  He inspired all of us with his tireless energy and vignettes from his experience in the classroom.  His dynamic passion still inspires me each day as I prepare to go to work.

As he closed his monologue, he offered a final analogy characterizing teachers as travelers on a tire-less bus.  The best educators are the 'runners,' driving the bus forward.  The walkers are permissible due to their potential to become runners and thus contribute... and then there are the riders, the laggards who missed their stop last year.

The analogy stuck with me.  It motivated me, but it also fed my comparative transgression.  I wanted to be a runner, and every day I endeavored to sprint ahead with creative planning and picture-perfect presentations.  I was compelled by a desire to attain the runner status and a longing to be Pinterest-perfect.

Each week, I left school exhausted.  By the end of the first quarter, I felt dissatisfied, discontent, and discouraged.  Occasionally, I received praise for my originality and drive, but the accolades were unmerited because my motives were entirely selfish and, as such, the hunger for recognition became insatiable.

The Pinterest-perfect photos and plans were displayed on my blog, but many days my classroom more closely resembled the cupcake cones pictured above.

In my endeavor to attain status, I only saw the road ahead instead of my fellow travelers.  Sometimes, my students needed the proverbial bus to pause.  After a student's death, everyone on the bus needed to slow down, and some days I needed to be the laggard and depend on my school community to keep me moving.

My beliefs as an educator were undermined by my sinfully competitive and selfish nature.

Four years ago, when I decided to pursue my teaching license, I reflected a lot on my own academic experience.  As a student, I most admired the teachers who were sincere in their care for me and interest in my personal success.  I do not clearly remember any of their creative projects or lesson plans, I only remember the way that I felt in their classrooms.  There were moments last year, when I entirely lost sight of my original motive for teaching.

This year, I have already experienced a few 'Pinterest fails.'  Technology does not always cooperate, and my plans are not always executed as seamlessly as anticipated.  Yet, I am hoping to leave my door open and refrain from exclusively posting pictures that distort the reality.  Being a runner every day is unrealistic and untenable.

While I aspire to incorporate original and engaging ideas, more than anything, I want my students to see the classroom as a safe and responsive place where they are valued, even on their laggard days.